Yoranta

Yoranta is a land defined by its contrasts. The Old and the Young, Order and Chaos and the more (relatively) recent Divine and the Arcane. From the soaring bone-white peaks of the Dolmari ranges, the verdant jungles of the Heartlands to the cliffs and coves of the Jagged Coast, it is home to many peoples who's walks of life are as varied as the lands that give them a home.   The Old and the New   Eight hundred years ago, a vast fleet carrying the refugees of an entire species of Kith arrived on Yoranta's lonely shores. The native peoples of the land saw little of interest in the cold and barren shores, bereft of gods or people, and so gave little resistance to the new arrivals.   Now the human cities of the Jagged Coast are the epicentres of trade and society. Their gods, once the old and forgotten of Yoranta, have become rejuvenated with their worship and give their blessings freely. It is a time of progress and riches, the jungles watch with jealous eyes yet the mountains remain cold and silent...   Order and Chaos   One hundred years ago the K'voli Empire, once a people of exiles, criminals and the disgraced, returned to their motherlands with new power. Bringing with them the fire of their distant mountain god, the K'voli tore first the Heartlands then the entire Jagged Coast apart and rebuilt it in their image. Though once nothing more than a penal colony for the worst the young human nations, the invaders bore the likeness of devils and fiends, wearing their colours with pride. They no longer followed a chaotic path, and instead subjugated those they conquered to a life of absolute law.   But the K'voli Empire fell, and as their precious order collapsed and the devil-folk seemingly vanished from the world in an event known only as The Fall, chaos rose up to take their place. The natural order has been forever changed, the human nations have united into only a handful of states and the Heartlands, once almost tamed, have returned to the Old Ways. Whilst merchants pedal the latest wares from their barges, the ancient groves and waterways echo with the chants of war and raids...   The Divine and the Arcane   Nineteen hundred years ago, should the legends be believed, eight of the worlds greatest practitioners of magic came together for a single ritual. Each had forged their own path and sought to offer their strength in the Rite of the Mortal Claim. Regardless of the truth, the Mortal Tongues were discovered and suddenly mortals no longer had to rely on gifts from gods or worse for their magic.   In this world, magic is not a mystic pool of energy, nor a weave of creation, but instead the manipulation of the world around you through the Magical Languages, languages of runes and nigh-impossible to understand grammar. From the Old Languages of the gods to the freshly born Languages of the Mortal Claim such as Evocation and Conjuration to the diabolical speech of the Fiends, all who wield magic must first be fluent in one such language.   The gods, or Eidolon as they are known, are also strange. Not the great deities who's portfolio's command the respect of all, but little gods of brook, dale and tree who rely on those who live around them for their strength. They are a constant presence, who are shaped by their worshippers and in turn shape them. But with new magic at their fingertips and tips of their tongues, some mortals wonder why they still wait upon the wishes of mere spirits...