The continent of Kale is infected. It is a plauge. It is a disease as old as time, and for which there is no cure: corruption.

The Tyrant-Queen Garonne and her five Elder Princes rule over their nation as iron-fisted dictators. Justice, is a word long forgotten by the people of principalities. The slave-serfs of the land live in obscene poverty and perpetual suffering. Oppression is not nearly strong enough a term to describe the horrors of their regime. The Realm of Garonne, is filled with slavers, torturers, and fear.

To their south lies a loose confederation of pirate lords known as “The Unified Waters of the Most Noble Triumverate of Destrina, Kelph, and Omarrionaria and Omarrion’s Lady”. Destrina and Kelph rule over small islands nations filled to the brim with docks and ports, as well as large armadas. Omarrionaria does not actually contain land mass, it is entirely made up of marine vehicles. There are rumors of large artificial islands made from ships being rigged together. Regardless of any gossip, it is clear that the largest vessel in the “nation” is Omarrion’s Lady, the personal warship of Omarrion, as well as the capital “city”. Nearly the size of a small island itself, Omarrion’s lady is also the most famous vessel amongst the pirates of the Triumvirate.

The Federation of Parm encoroaches from the North. Parm has layed waste to everything in its path. This nation of goblinoids is in the holy service of Bane, and it seeks to destroy all outsiders. Interested only in devastation, they leave their conquered lands in smoldering heap behind them, as they march forward to their next target. They do not take prisoners. They do not honor parley. They do not surrender.

In the west, the Five Kingdoms are carved into the mountains of Ehl. They stand in stoic resistance to all invaders. They are the oldest of nations, and have an air of wisdom because of it. They kingdoms mostly keep to themselves, but in times of great need they form The Allegiance. The last time the kingdoms came together, it was to fight against giants of old.

The dread necromancer Darsyl has been building an army of undead. His undead legionnaires reside in the Tomb Caverns of Kal Alil. Though he holds a massive army at his beck and call, the eccentric sorcerer has shown no interest in largescale war. Small guerrilla attacks and raids remind the populace of his presence, but they are uncertain as to his goals. This ambiguous methodology makes him feared as a folk villain. He is mysterious. He is unpredictable. And, if the rumors hold true, he is on the precipice of full transformation into a foul creature of unlife: a lich.

And in the hearts of everyone, lives the constant fear of the return of the slumbering giants. The Empire of Firth once ruled over the entire world… but they were defeated, and laid to rest in the earth. The giants of Firth are were not destroyed, but imprisoned in sleep. No one knows for how long… and most, would rather not find out.

This is a story. But this is not a story at all… it is an intellectual tattoo. You must shape it with your creativity, and your insight, and I shall redraw it in my own style. You must put your thoughts together, so that I might see your group as a sketch. I will refine that sketch. You are a part of this tale, this tale is about you. You are this tale.

But it is my tale to tell.


TheWaterBear K0hakukitty sircricketofawesometon foxxymito Kwapanda