The Western Shores

A land of high fantasy and melodrama, where the effects of magic are felt through all the land. Bounded by the sea to the west, the reptillian kingdom to the south, the feline empire to the east and with nothing but ice, giants and dragons to the north.

Humans dominate, and the Church is but one step behind every throne. The gods of the Aesir play with the lives of their worshipers while Odin the Allfather watches.

A land that has been ravaged by war, daemonic invasion and megalomaniacal mages bent on obtaining godlike power. Rebuilt, repaired and still struggling. The Church Inquisition always on the look out for potential new sorcerous threats, and eager to hear the gossip of any.

Barely tolerated magical races are balkanised into less travelled areas - the four breeds of Elf (few know of the fifth, the councillors), the earth elemental Dwarfs, the Centaur and Leomachi. The breeding of slave warriors by necromancers in the past, the Orc, the Goblin, the Ogre and the Troll, has instilled wariness and xenophobia in all humanity for the different.

And then there is the myth of the Elven Golden-Age-That-Never-Was. Supposedly destroyed by a human, giving the Elves their own reasons for distrust.

But there are heroes still, rising in times of trouble and regarded with awe.

And magic flows, every festival there are miracles. Praying to the gods gives good crops, and priests receive answers to their questions. Many more would become priests, if there were less bureaucracy involved in the training. And Odin help any who even mention the word “corruption” in the same breath.