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The Smuggler’s Haven In Greymire, you can buy anything—stolen grain, a name that ain’t yours, a dagger meant for a friend’s back. Gold still changes hands, but silver? Silver’s worth more than life. You don’t spend it here, you guard it, ‘cause the moment s...

Steel and Suffering I came here hoping for safety, but all I found was more death. The enforcers don’t see us as people—just a burden. They say Ebonmoor is safe, but none of us will ever get past that cursed gate. I’ve seen mothers beg to be let through, on...

Steel and Sacrifice Valkenheim is a golden lantern in the dark, its light a promise against the creeping night. It stands tall, unwavering, a symbol of warmth and safety for those who call it home. Yet, even the brightest lantern must be tended, its flame c...

As compiled by Royal Scholar Gorrin of the Royal Archives Throughout the annals of our history, there have existed those among us who have wielded relics of unparalleled craft and mystery. The common folk whisper of these artifacts as gifts from the gods, w...

In game, silvered weapons will deal an additional 1d8 damage against any creature infected with the Rotmire Blight. This effect can stack with Relic weapons such as +1 weapons, etc. Once, silver was a symbol of prosperity, wealth, and divine favor. Its coinag...

The spread of the Rotmire Blight has forced the people of Norvostra to adopt whatever means they can to avoid infection, yet the vast gulf between wealth and poverty dictates the effectiveness of these efforts. From the lowest peasant to the highest noble, eac...

A Crumbling Sanctuary As long as I draw breath, Blackholt will not close its gates to those in need. Faulmoor's people are not just subjects to be ruled, but lives to be protected. If the Blight has taken their homes, if the nobles have turned their backs, ...

The Unclaimed Heights of Faulmoor The Ash Peaks? A land of untamed beauty and forgotten history! Every ridge hides a story, every cave whispers of something lost to time. The fools call it treacherous—I call it an open invitation. There’s glory to be found ...

The Forgotten Past Southeast of Valkenheim, where the mountains meet the marsh, the past lies drowned beneath the mire. The gods do not speak in words, but in echoes of the past. Harrowgate is where their voices still linger, where the faithful may listen....

The Town That Wealth Devoured I don’t see what all the fuss is about. We pay them, don’t we? They should be grateful to have work at all—better than rotting away in some plague-ridden gutter. Honestly, the way they whine, you’d think we weren’t the ones kee...

Fenmire, the most forsaken region of Faulmoor, is a vast expanse of deep bogs, brackish fens, and mist-choked waterways stretching toward the Greymere Sea. The land is half-drowned, characterized by sinking peat, twisted mangroves, and decaying reeds, making...

By Mire and Might. Fenwatch is no jewel, no grand city of polished stone and gold. It is wood and iron, grit and toil, built by those who endure, not those who dream. The swamp rises to claim it, the Blight knocks at its gates, but we remain. We do not bow,...

A Grave of Silver You dig long enough in Thornmere, and the silver starts feeling less like fortune and more like a curse. The deeper we go, the stranger the earth becomes—veins that twist in ways they shouldn’t, tunnels that weren’t carved by our hands. So...

The Drowned Halls The Pale Ruins? A graveyard of stone and silence. People think there's treasure buried in those halls, but all I've ever found is a feeling—like something is watching, something old. The walls hum when the air is still, and the mist moves ...

A Town Swallowed by Mire and Blight We had no choice. The bridges had to burn, lest the Blight cross with them. I tell myself this, over and over, yet still, I see their faces in the flames. And if faced with the choice again, I would set them alight withou...

The Last Haven of the Lost The world out there is dying, but not here. Not in Bogsend. We are not the lost—we are the ones who endure, the ones who build while others crumble. Let the Blight take its cities, let the lords war over their ruins. We have carve...

Where Loyalty Stands Unshaken We do not yield, we do not falter. Let the Blight claw at our gates, let the faithless whisper of our ruin—I will not let Mirefield fall. We hold the line, not just for ourselves, but for all of Fenmire. If the world must break...

A Town Built on Bones At first, it was just old stone—good, solid, nothing more. We built our homes with it, walked our streets over it, never thought twice. But the deeper we dug, the stranger it became. Walls too perfect, carvings too fine, steps leading ...