The World

To the north, the barren desert and infinite ice beyond,

The south lays the Fellmarsh and its lost inhabitants.

In the middle the Ironwoods lay,

Dangerous with great treasure to be found.

The east lays the land of Rathorn and science.

On the west we find the Greylim Confederacy and its chaos.

A war between one and defiance.

Elona is a world of magic and science, divided by politics with a dark past. One hundred score years ago an empire of man conquered the continent, led by a dark God-King, and his empire held for half that time years of tyranny. The Empire rose out of the mountains of Rathorn and slowly absorbed the world. Science progressed, fueled by magic and ingenuity on the back of Gnomish and Dwarven slaves. The Kobolds of the great desert, Ishtan, worked the foundries to produce the metal so necessary for the machinations of the God-King. These were the dark days, the root of the current wars and long held animosity.

After a thousand years of abuse the chiefs of five clans- a man, an elf, a dwarf, an orc, and a dragonkin- banded together and managed to shake the power of the God-King, banishing him to the many layers of Hell, where he now resides and rules as Asmodeus. The five companions left each other’s company and went back to their tribes, letting the dark empire fall apart. After a century, all that remained were small, localized kingdoms controlled by their own rulers. The kingdoms were as numerous as there were peoples, with their own animosities and hatred. Man was largely pushed out of Rathorn, vilified for the actions of their former leader.

A century ago a Dwarven regent in Rathorn began to unify the small kingdoms around his holding, establishing New Rathorn, an empire of his own. Unlike the God-King, his is a government designed, as he sees it, for the people. He is Imperator, his word is law, and he stands in final judgment of all earthly affairs within his empire. Below him lay the two houses, one consisting of the Kings whose kingdoms he has taken over and the other of elected officials, each coming from those same kingdoms and who hold their offices by the grace and will of their citizens.

His actions led to the foundation of the Greylim Confederacy, so named for the city-state that organized and held the First Conclave of Lords. The Confederacy is a loosely allied group of states opposing Rathorn’s expansion, the memory of the last “Great Empire” still bitter in their minds. Mostly plains, the Confederacy is responsible for much of the world’s agriculture. Exotic fruits come from the far Southwestern Tropics, a series of islands situated off the mainland that get vibrant sun and counterbalance the extreme cold of the northern parts of Ishtan.

Ishtan itself remains neutral, serving as a trading hub between the two factions, though it is said they favor the freedoms the Confederacy. Theirs is a world of city-states amidst the dunes, each controlled by a sheik or warlord with roaming bands of raiders and brigands. Colorful markets and exotic locales where anything can be bought and sold, even people, but everything comes with a warning: buyers beware. The practice of slavery has earned them the ire of New Rathorn, but they are too valuable to be pushed and taking the desert would be a pointless waste of manpower. Without the trade, all one would control would be a kingdom of sand.

No one speaks of the Fellmarsh if they can avoid it. A land populated by undead horrors, some find solace in the murky swamps and marshes. While dangerous, it often offers a more direct alternative than taking the desert routs, and the Great Road provides some protection to travelers.

Much of the middle of the world is dominated by the Grand Ironwood. Home to the elves and the last area to fall to the God-King, some say the trees of the deep forest are older than the world itself and their roots are, in fact, what binds everything together. Even more dangerous than the Fellmarsh, if you stray from the roads in the Ironwood you will likely die. If the elves don’t kill you for trespassing, the monsters that haunt the grand old wood will.

Binding all of these disparate areas together are a series of roads collectively called The Great Road. The Road has branches everywhere, though the main line goes from East to West, with the shattered capital of the old Empire, Mt. Anges at its easternmost point and Greylim at the far west. No one is sure what protects the road, but it never degrades and never needs upkeep. Many smaller roads branch off, some having gained enough status and usage to actually become part of the Road themselves. Some theorize that, like the Ironwood, the Road is powered by the very essence of Elona. Many have ventured to find the root of the Road’s magic. None have ever found suitable answers.

Age of Elona