This isn't meant to be anything formal. Just an easy link I can share with RP Partners when I want to reference my fantasy setting. Have fun reading, if you want. I didn't proofread this.
The Grey Coast and Kingdoms, a Low-ish Fantasy setting in a barely tamed land.
Origins
Three centuries ago, the hubris of the Council of Twelve caused the Great Plague. The forces of Darkness managed to corrupt even the highest political office. Protected by the Knights of the Blazing Sun, the Church and a few thousand refugees crossed the great ocean, heading east into only barely charted seas. Explorers had talked about the land beyond the sea, but none had dared approach after a hostile people had been encountered off the coast. Now, with nowhere else to run to, the Church of Ahrun declared their right to sail across the waves and claim land there. If the locals were amicable, they would be enlightened by the Grace of the Sun. If not, they would fall. The refugees had no choice, as their home was being devoured by death and shadow.
Upon arriving, there was resistance. The people here, known as the Illorni Empire, immediately dispatched a fleet to stop the people, but were overwhelmed. Every vessel fought, firing arrows or boarding. Civilians and soldiers alike took up arms for their new home. They made landfall on the coast itself and quickly established fortifications against further attackers. The Illorni were sending troops to deal with these foreigners. The Knights of the Blazing Sun held the line with little relief. Each one of them was practically alight with holy purpose, and when the first wave of Illorni conscripts descended upon them, the five hundred Knights held the defenses against the thousands of slave soldiers - humans, dwarves, and elves - that rushed them. Their fury was unmatched, and not a single Knight fell in battle against the foe. It didn’t take long for a reprisal to come back - Imperial troops this time, elite of elite, ancient and masters of the way of war. The Knights fought again, still fueled by holy fervor. They bought the refugees time to organize, to arm, to build. The battle is written in legend now, known as the Clash of Righteousness. It lasted three days, the clash between the Knights of the Blazing Sun and the Imperial Swordmasters. In that time, the refugees were finishing up preparing an organized military to relieve the long worn paladins. On the third evening of the battle, human soldiers struck out from the camp their people had made and went to find the Knights.
Every Knight was slain, and only a single Swordsmaster lived, wounded and crippled by the Grandmaster’s sword. The blow was delivered as he bled from a thousand wounds, and the last of his life fled from him before he could finish off the Imperial soldier. With a prisoner, the Church learned about the Illorni. An ancient empire of elves, their power base was built on slaves and criminals. Their Emperor, supposedly blessed by their Gods, was marshalling troops to deal with these ‘invaders’. The refugees sent him with terms that would see peace between their forces, and allow the refugees a small plot of land to live in before finding a new home. The Emperor flayed the messengers, and the Swordsmaster who had survived the battle. The response was clear, it would be war.
The Illorni Empire regretted their decision. The three thousand refugees quickly marshalled their forces. The Church may have lost the Knights of the Blazing Sun, but they were recruiting new members from the refugees daily. For ten years, the Illorni and the humans fought. The Humans inspired the dwarves, oppressed into servitude for the elves, to rebel. Bolstered by the slave revolts, and taking advantage of an already collapsing regieme, the refugees overwhelmed the Emperor in his capitol. After a decade of conflict, and more refugees arriving from the West, the Grey Coast was finally claimed. In truth, the Illorni were doomed long before Men arrived. Excluding slaves, there were maybe ten thousands free elves remaining in the Empire. The Dwarves were freed, and asked to return to their homes in the south, and those elves that remained swore fealty to the Church and the Lords that would claim their territories.
The Lords of the Grey Coast quickly went to work building themselves a home in the new land. Castles were raised, farms were planted. The land was fertile, and animals of all kinds roamed the forests and plains, and the region was fairly safe. They had allies in the south, with the Dwarves grateful for the assistance given. The first thing the Dwarves warned about were the Wood Elves. It became clear that the Illorni had enemies, and the Wood Elves were the primary antagonist. Interested in destroying society, these elves split from the Illorni a millenia ago. Since then, the Grey Folk (as the refugees called themselves) prepared for another enemy.
The elves were patient, however, and lulled the new Grey Kingdoms into a sense of security. They hid their intention and waited, biding their time while the men built and toiled. These barely mortal creatures, with life spans so pitiful, could hardly hold agains the forces of nature. After fifty years, the elves began their campaign. Castles near the Western Wood were found empty, save for the corpses. Caravans would be left on the side of the road covered in arrows. Any diplomat sent would be strung up for the carrion birds. The Church sent its newest Order, the Order of Twilight, into the forest to learn more about the enemy. The best hunters, scouts, and rangers were sent, and while many never returned, the ones that did were successful. The Wood Elves worshiped profane gods, dark entities of primal power that challenged the order and law of the world. Their gods weaved foul magic to hide the homes and fortresses of the Wood Elves, and to bless their soldiers with wicked powers and evil corruption. Their goal was clear - the destruction of order. Nature was the only structure required. The chaos of evolution was a true guiding hand that would bring balance to the world. There was no diplomacy with these people, and war was declared. It was a vicious fight too. For two years, the Grey Folk and Wood Elves threw forces at each other. It was vicious, but fate would intercede before the end of the war.
There were forces within the Wood Elves that wanted a kind of peace. They knew a true enemy was coming, and didn’t trust in the fanatics would be able to stop them. Their own kind had betrayed their long assigned duty in favor of Fae worship, and the impossible quest of restoring the world to Nature. While small, these elements stayed out of the conflict with the Grey Folk. When the true enemy arrived, they found their radical cousins nearly slain, and their strength pitiful to stop the coming Tide. Peace was immediately called, and the Order of Twilight met with the Glade Council that ran the woodland realms. The Council explained that a Black Tide was coming, one of the largest in a century. The mountains their forest surrounded held the Heart of Shadow, a scar on the world and a source of power for the armies of darkness. The Church agreed to the peace. Any ally against the Shadows would be worth having in this new land.
Orks were a new enemy the Church had never seen. Each Ork was nearly seven feet tall, with obsidian black skin and burning red eyes. Their flesh grew hard as they matured, cracking like the dry desert sand. The creatures look molten, with an intense hatred burning in them for anything else living. Naturally proficient warriors, these beings would quickly enslave nearby creatures that couldn’t resist their power. The bred upon them, siring hosts of monstrous soldiers that matured quickly with the aid of shadow magic. The Wood Elves knew of them, there was always a threat of a raid on a given day, and they knew that every so often, a Champion would arise within the crater of the Krannor. This champion would marshal their forces in a great tide of shadowed flesh. Forests would be burned, villages pillaged and prisoners taken for rape and torture. It has been the Wood Elves that held against them in the past, and for nearly a millennium, they remained without a Champion. Now, however, they had found one. The Grey Folk, Wood Elves, and the Dwarves mobilized to stop this threat, and together, after a bloody, brutal conflict, they managed to win the day.
The final battle was in the Riverlands - the Order of the Blazing Sun had exhausted most of it’s strength reinforcing battle lines and directing their most holy warriors against the corruption. The Wood Elves were glad to have such powerful divine magic aiding them, as their Gods had, apparently, long since fled these lands. In the end, it was the act of a Squire that brought down the Champion. The massive Ork, nearly twelve feet tall, bloated and powerful with shadow and capable of wielding magic as a child would a toy. The Knights were slain, the army routed, and the Champion had nothing standing between him and Port Enambur and the Temple of Light. The girl stood away from her slain Lord and took up his sword against the foul warrior. As she charged, tears in her eyes at the sadness of the slain troops, and the hatred for such an evil entity, a choir of light shone around her. The sword blazed with light, and as she lept, huge wings of glowing divinity bore her up into the air. The girl’s body burned in the purity, it’s mortal form engulfed in holy fire as a new Scion was born - the first since Creation. The angelic form cut through the corrupted flesh of the Champion, slashing with the massive golden blade made of the very light of the dawn. They battled - Orks gathered to watch the show, and remaining Grey Folk, Elves, and Dwarves came to the sight of daylight in the late night air. The champion was powerful, but the Light was stronger. When the Champion fell, the angelic Scion turned to the hordes of whimpering, cowering monsters. With a sweep of her wings, she dispelled the blessings given by the champion, crippling the Orks and returning their weakness to sunlight. They burned, screamed, and tried to flee, but the remnants of the Allied forces crushed them. The Black Tide was restrained
The Squire, Anya, was Canonized by the Church. The Wood Elves and the Grey Folk struck a rough peace. Humans would be given the Eastern Woods as reparations for the slaughter at the beginning of the war, but now were also in charge of fighting the Black Tide when it came. The Church grew exponentially after Anya’s sacrifice. As the church grew, so did the Orders. The venerable Order of the Dawn spread the word of God from every corner of the Grey Kingdoms. The Order of Twilight grew, training new rangers and soldiers to help against the next Black Tide. The Order of the Blazing Sun led their crusades against enemies of the church, and fought skirmishes with radical elves, savage Northmen, and Ork Raids.
Within a decade, the Grey Kingdoms were growing healthily. A navy was built to help patrol the waters from Pirates, given the large number of small islands and waterways throughout the new land. The first encounters with the Amber Isle Elves happened shortly after. Enigmatic and isolationist, the Amber Island Elves, known as Sea Elves, sail sleek vessels captained by powerful wizards and mechanical contraptions. The Illorni histories spoke about the Amber Isles as a place for prisoners and despots. An island nation trapped amongst the seas, controlled by mages, and policed by powerful warships of heretical magic and advanced engineering. These ships didn’t have sails, or hulls of wood, but instead ran on great engines steam or arcane furnaces that drove powerful paddles beneath the boat. They fought with swords, but eschewed arrows for fire throwing cannons and deadly accurate shot rods. It was rumored that not even heavy plate mail could protect against their tools, and quickly the Church worked to find out about these people. A single ship of diplomats was sent to the Amber Isles. They were welcomed by the inhabitants, albeit coldly. The diplomats verified that the Illorni used to have dominion here, but since their fall, the oppressed rose up and claimed their own freedom. Their culture, steeped in magical and scientific research, was dedicated to progress by any means. The Grey Kingdoms would be allowed to stay, assuming the Amber Isles were left alone.
When the diplomats returned, the Church worried that ‘Progress by Any Means’ would include corruption. They saw in the Amber Isles, the same Hubris that brought about the fall of their old home. The eldest among the priests knew this couldn’t stand, and summoned a fleet to take the isles. One hundred vessels left, armed with the best soldiers the Kingdoms could provide, supported by the Church’s mages, and the Order of the Blazing Sun Knights.
One ship returned, with only one mage left alive, beside the skeleton crew to sail it. The Amber Isles would not be subjugated again. Another breach of the peace, and the Grey Kingdoms would be eliminated. The Church, not willing to risk their new kingdom any further, agreed to those terms. Over the centuries, the Sea Elves have proven to be both a blessing and a curse. Their ships generally leave everyone alone, though if they want your vessel, they will take it. Few survivors come back from those attacks. Others talk about how, seemingly out of nowhere, Sea Elf ships will arrive to strike at a pirate that was chasing them, or save them from some ill fate. Most coastal cities have no problem trading with them, though that hasn’t always been the case. Only in the last few decades has trade in the Port Ironhold and in Westport been allowed.
After a century, Port Enambur had become the beating heart of the Grey Kingdoms. The city was once the seat of the Illorni Empire, but most of the old buildings have been razed in favor of more traditional architecture. The Temple of Light was built a few days travel from Port Enambur. The seat of the Church houses the training grounds for each of the Orders. The Order of the Dawn, Order of the Blazing Sun, and the Order of Twilight were all well known to the people of the Grey Kingdoms. Before the seventieth year after the New Founding (N.F. 70), magic had started to become a concern for the church. In previous ages, those with magical aptitude were sent to some of the many mages guilds of the Old World. In this new land, however, there was no such instruction outside of the Sea Elves, who refused visitors. The Church was also concerned about the application of magic, since it was believed that the Guilds had a major hand in releasing the plagues that destroyed the Old World. They decided a new Order was needed. They would oversee magical training within the Church, and it would be a requirement for young children displaying magical aptitude to be sent to this new Order for instruction. Unsanctioned magic was deemed illegal, and all mages need proof of their certification from the Church. The Order of Sentinel was established, named after the Scion’s stronghold in the sky. Within the Order of Sentinel, the practice of magic was allowed by any member, but only those certified by the High Council - proven by a badge given upon graduation - could work their miracles out in the common world. Life within the Order of Sentinel is hardly restrictive. Arguably, it’s the least pious of the Orders, being focused on learning instead of prayer, but all authority still lies in the hands of the Bishops. It would be much later in history that a schism between the Order of Sentinel and the Bishops would move their training facilities across the Bay of Leaves to the newly built Sentinel’s Tower. Aspiring mages now have three options. Make the Pilgrimage to Sentinel’s Tower - the Church refuses to aid in this Pilgrimage, other than sanctioning it - where the youth is given to the Tower for training, submit themselves to the Church in one of the many monasteries across the land, forever suppressing their magical talents through prayer and meditation, or live as an Apostate, hiding their wild talents from those around them, lest they draw the attention of the Inquisitors of the Church. There was an attempt to make a free place for those of magical talent to live, away from the Church and outside of threat from the common folk, but such an idea turned sour soon after it began. The once verdant islands in the Bay of Leaves had to be scoured when the mages living there opened a gate into the Shadow Realm inadvertently. The Order of the Blazing Sun arrived only in time to close the gate, not save the thousands that perished in the hellfire unleashed by the Umbrals that came through the tear in reality.
There are subversive factions in the Grey Kingdoms, of course. Cults that worship one kind of Umbral or another, or the primal Fae that the Wood Elves pay homage to. The woods are fraught with danger, from the elves themselves, to some of the more monstrous creatures that try to rebel against civilization between Tides. Goblins, Hobgoblins, things from below the mountains all salivate at the chance to destroy or desecrate. Worse are the fell beasts. Massive wyverns, drakes, and other horrors that feed on fear and draw power from shadow and flame. In the Redspire Mountains to the far north, recent clans of dwarves were discovered, who violently defend their mountains. Uninterested in trade or politics, they hide within their mountain strongholds and refuse any form of communication beyond violence. There is conflict between Lords as well. In the Grey Kingdoms, each Lord is given their land by the Church, but it is their responsibility to keep and defend it. There is a bloody game of politics and conflict that may see a small skirmish decide the ruler of a few acres, or two massive alliance of banners, come together in some great conflict. Only twice in the history of the Grey Kingdoms has the Church intervened. It is these Lords’ right to wage war, but there may be times when the conflict will cause more harm than good. There are mundane threats as well - bandits, pirates, warlords, and murderers. From the hot sands of the southern deserts to the frozen north, outlaws can be found. The Northmen are a constant threat to the northern lords, raiding from their mountain strongholds to make sacrifices to gods so old the bear no names. Every crusade to purge them is ‘successful’, but they return after a time.
Geography and Culture.
The Marches feature the harsh granite cliffs that the coast gets its name for, and offers little in the way of farmable land. The rocky flats and stone covered hills offer little soil, but provide good grazing for goats and sheep. Westport is well situated for trade, allowing people of all kinds to come and go by land or by sea. The people are very metropolitan. Most performers, merchants, and craftsmen come from the Marches. The land doesn’t lend itself to farming, so wealth is earned any way it can be. The courts of the Marches are brutal, duplicitous places, where a word will earn you enemy and ally alike. Etiquette wields more power than swords, for the most part, but when the Marcher Lords mobilize, they can command some of the most skilled armies in the Grey Kingdoms. Following the road away from Port Enambur leads you to the Northlands. Port Ironhold is the easiest access to water. Lumber from Northlands is put on ships and sailed to any part of the Grey Kingdoms from there. The people in the Northlands are hard and hearty, used to savage winters and hard summers. They’re under constant threat from raiders and reavers, and beasts of all kinds call the mountains home. As a result, they’re less sociable, but tighter knit than the other Kingdoms. Each Lord in the Northlands knows his neighbor, and will fight and die for him, because they know one day, they will need the help as well. East of Port Enambur and the Temple of Light is the Riverlands. Simple folk with simple lives. The River Barons are peaceful rulers, more interested in a good harvest than extra territory. This attitude makes them vitally important to the Kingdom, as almost all Lords buy their winter stores from the River Barons. The Common Folk here are most populous, and most superstitious. Mostly pious, they see signs in every little thing - good omens and bad. There is some truth to their legends, as the Eastern Wood is home to many nightmares, and when Sentinel wanes into the Night of Darkness, who knows what can come into the Riverlands. Port Enambur itself is a luxurious city, crowded with stores, services, and holy sites. The King of Port Enambur, while not technically a king of anything beyond the city limits, is well respected by every Lord among the Grey Kingdoms. The dynasty has changed a number of times, with successors appointed by the Church if no clear heir is apparent. It’s an odd mix of Holy city and metropolitan centerpiece. Politics of all kinds are argued here once a year, in a grand Winter Revel that is held in the Great Palace. Representatives from every house try to be in the city for winter, even if they weren’t invited to the Revel itself. Port Enambur is also where foreign embassies exist. The Dwarves of Hul-Barak have permanent offices here, as do the Wood Elves, though much more reluctantly. Recently, the tribes of diminutive halflings that live on the polar ice flows beyond the Redspire Mountains were offered a place, which was tentatively filled by a Northerner appointed by the tribes. North of Port Enambur is the Bloodstone Peaks - vicious, untamed, and generally dangerous mountains that surround the pit of corruption that is the Krannor. There are way stations throughout the range - small strongholds built by the Order of Twilight and Wood Elves to provide shelter for rangers. All sorts of evils hide in the forests and cliffs. Across the Bay of Leaves is the stretch of land referred to as ‘The South’. The mountain holds of Hul-Barak broder the Riverlands and the Kaskar Desert. The hot, uninhabitable sands make the journey by land to the Southcraig Mountains dangerous. The Mountains, however, are a wet, marshy place with tall cliffs that find themselves soaked with rain most months of the year. Dense jungle and barely tamed valleys make up the southernmost lands of the Grey Kingdoms. The Lords here are explorers by choice, looking to settle these mountains and the lush rainforests south of them in search of riches and relics. Sentinel’s Tower was moved to the inner bay of Southcraig, away from most civilization. Their isolation has given them a form of freedom, however, as they are free to research any subject without the Church’s constant meddling. They don’t stray much, of course, since they do not wish to be declared heretics. The laws in Southcraig are very lax. Most Lords own a small outpost with fishing ships near the coast. Few could defend the lands if an organized threat came, but the Tower itself would be a nightmare for an army to take with the Wizards staffing it.
