The Freehold of Tyinchar and the Waning Lands

Roaming covens of demons and monsters; corpulent kings holding their fractured realms together by the employ of moon-crazed warlords; slave-empires under the heel of merchant emperors; orders of knights who each prostrate themselves before the whims of a different, profane, god.   This is what writhes amidst the Waning Lands, a world heavy with the weight of the dead, where the ruins of empires lie half buried beneath the sands, so long forgotten only their stones remain, themselves built upon the foundations of those who came before. And throughout it all scavengers pick away at the old, trying to eek life from the dust; and demons roam, echoes of the tide of blood born of countless ages of horror, swelling just beyond perception.   But here in Tyinchar there is safety. At least as much as can be found in this fading world. In the west lies the Bay of Fools and the Basking Sea, dazzling and alluring in the reflections of the faltering sun, a hope as deadly in this dying age as any other.   In all other directions you will find naught but the ruby-red sands of the Waning Lands. A hell you would be wise to avoid. So stay here instead, the walls of the Freehold of Tyinchar are thick and old. You can wile away the end of all things here, watch from the battlements as death and dust consume the rest of this aging world.