Medieval RPG (update).

MARKED BY KRAETHON (Phenomenon/Legend)

Every few years—no one has been able to predict the exact interval, although scholars of the Silent Veil place it between one and three decades—an individual of any species, with no apparent pattern of lineage, location, or merit, is "touched" by Kraethon, the Hungry One. There is no ritual that invokes him, nor sacrifice that guarantees it: it occurs, according to the few documented cases, in moments of extreme desperation, hunger, or near death, as if the god of emptiness sensed a crack in the world thin enough to slip a part of himself through it.

The result is devastating in its potential: the marked individual experiences an exponential improvement in some aspect of their being—immense strength, combat mastery that rivals warriors with a lifetime of training, or an intelligence that allows them to understand magic and strategy as if they had always mastered them. These are not gradual improvements: they are leaps that defy all logic of effort and time. Along with this gift comes a subtle but constant physical mark: a perceptible absence, difficult to describe precisely—a shadow that doesn't behave as it should, a silence around the person that no sound fully fills, eyes that seem to stare at a point slightly behind where they should be.

Almost without exception, the Marked are corrupted by their own gift. It's unclear whether Kraethon is actively working on their minds, or if the sheer weight of such absolute power over any ordinary person eventually erodes any principles they once held. They begin by questioning limits, continue to ignore them, and end up seeing those around them as mere obstacles or resources—a disturbing echo of their patron god's own philosophy of absolute consumption. The history of Aethermoor documents entire wars, the fall of cities, and the collapse of entire religious orders, all attributable to a single Marked individual who chose to use their gift without restraint.

This is precisely the threat that the Silent Veil watches with the greatest obsession. It is rumored—without public confirmation, of course—that the almost total absence of documented Marked Ones in the last century does not mean they have stopped appearing, but rather that the order has learned to identify them before their corruption is complete, and acts accordingly long before the world learns that there was, once again, someone chosen by the Hungry One.

THE SILENT VEIL (Hidden Faction/Order)

The Silent Veil appears in no official records, has no temple, flag, or seat on any Guild Council. It was founded generations ago by a handful of the most exceptional warriors from three bloodlines that would normally never collaborate: mages from all three known orders, ninja who had deserted their own protective units, and elves—both Dawn and Duskari—who decided that protecting the entire world mattered more than protecting only their own people. Its founding was neither announced nor celebrated: one day, they simply ceased to exist for the rest of Aethermoor and began to exist solely for the purpose they had set for themselves.

Their mandate is simple to state and impossible to carry out without sacrifice: to intervene when a threat jeopardizes not just a city, not just a kingdom, but the very existence of the known world. This includes the potential incursion of a Primordial Demon or even a god crossing over from the Ancient Dimension, wars whose scale threatens to destabilize entire continents, individuals—champions, corrupt mages, fallen Heralds—whose personal power approaches the apocalyptic, and any interdimensional entity that manages to slip beyond the Sea of ​​No Return without being stopped by the Leviathans.

They operate under a principle they call "the Necessary Paradox": to protect the world, they must remain completely invisible to it, because public knowledge of threats of that magnitude would generate panic, cult-like behavior, or both. Each member renounces their name, lineage, and any previous allegiances upon acceptance; they are known only by functional designations (Blade, Candle, Cipher) within the order. They do not recruit openly: they observe individuals of extraordinary ability for years—a mage who survived something they shouldn't have, a ninja who broke their code for the right reason, an elf who renounced a throne—before making contact, and only when the person has demonstrated that they would put the world before themselves.

Their base of operations, if there is one, is a secret that even the most elaborate rumors have failed to pinpoint; some theories suggest they are constantly on the move, others that they exist in a space between planes, similar to how the gods inhabit the Ancient Dimension. What is known—or suspected with sufficient circumstantial evidence—is that certain "unexplained" events in Aethermoor's history (wars that ended abruptly for no apparent reason, Leviathan sightings that coincided with the disappearance of "strange" ships before they crossed, the complete absence of Kraethon Marked individuals documented in the last hundred years) might not be coincidences, but rather the deliberately erased trace of the Silent Veil at work before the world knew it needed saving.

FEATHERS (added to Breeds and Species)

The Featherweavers were not born of any natural union: they are an aberration, the result of something gone wrong—or "different"—in creatures that were once common birds of the heights, exposed for generations to streams of wild magic seeping from fissures in the Iron Mountains or from arcane ruins abandoned on inaccessible crags. What emerged is not majestic or elegant: it is disturbing. Elongated, asymmetrical bodies, feathers growing at angles that should not be possible, extra joints in their wings that allow them to perch and move in ways that unsettle anyone who observes them closely. And yet, in their eyes—too large, too still—there is an undeniable, ancient intelligence that utterly contradicts their grotesque appearance.

They inhabit the highest and most inaccessible peaks of the Iron Mountains and certain forgotten crags on the edges of the known world, forming small territorial groups around nests that are actually complex, almost architectural structures, woven from branches, bones, and metal fragments stolen from failed expeditions. Within their territory, they are cold, calculating, and ruthless: any intruder—be they a climber, treasure hunter, or dwarven expedition—is observed, assessed, and, if deemed a threat or merely a resource, eliminated without warning or negotiation. Diplomacy is impossible within their domain.

Outside their territory, however, they are completely different. A Featherweaver who has decided to bond with someone—a bond they initiate themselves and that no one has been able to force or buy—becomes a companion of absolute loyalty: an aerial messenger capable of crossing impossible distances in a fraction of the time it would take by land, a silent observer who remembers routes, faces, and conversations with unnatural precision, and an unexpectedly wise advisor, as if their current form contained fragments of wisdom that even they themselves cannot fully explain.

They are sought after by scholars who wish to study their origins, nobles who desire an incorruptible messenger, and hunters who covet their feathers—it is rumored that certain Featherweaver feathers, when ground, enhance potions of perception and detection to extraordinary degrees. No one has ever managed to tame one by force; those who have tried rarely attempt it again.

NINJAS (Race/Subrace)

Ninjas are a human subrace created through deliberate crossbreeding between humans, mages, and elves, seeking protectors who could overcome the limitations of each lineage individually. They are stronger than the average human, remarkably fast, and possess superhuman agility, inherited from elven lightness and the arcane discipline of mages.

Their purpose is the discreet surveillance of specific areas: cities and human towns under their watch. They neither govern nor collect tribute openly; they operate from the shadows, intervening only in the face of genuine threats (bandits, dungeon creatures, even Scavenger clans) and vanishing before the population notices anything. Most people consider them urban legends.

They wield a wide variety of weapons (short swords, chains, throwing daggers, bows) and complement combat with unique abilities: silent steps that evade magical detection, brief bursts of partial invisibility, and an ability to read their surroundings and anticipate ambushes. They don't cast elaborate spells, but instinctively channel small amounts of the Deep Stream to enhance their senses and reflexes.

They are organized into tightly knit cells of three to six members, each assigned to a specific territory. There is no confirmed central authority; a hidden parent organization is suspected, but neither its existence nor its location has been proven. They avoid discussing their origins, even with allies, fueling the question: are they protecting out of altruism, or are they pursuing an unknown agenda?

CLAN AND NOTABLE HUNTER

Dryclaw Clan: one of the most feared Scavenger clans, they haunt the trade routes of the Greylands. They are guided by "Mother Scent," an elderly female whose sense for detecting laden caravans has not failed her in years, giving her an unusually long reign over the clan. They attack at night, silently until the very last moment, and leave few survivors so as not to alert future routes.

Kessa Dryclaw, bounty hunter: She was born in Dryclaw but left the clan after refusing to devour a wounded survivor, an act seen as unforgivable treason by her own kind (who would likely kill her if they found her). She settled in the border towns as a headhunter and freelance bounty hunter.

She is both feared and respected: her inherited speed and keen sense of smell make her virtually impossible to lose, and she never fails to deliver on a contract once she's accepted. Unlike most Scavengers, she's paid in gold, not spoils, and she's known for keeping her word with almost uncanny honesty. Some hire her specifically to track other Scavengers, something she accepts without hesitation or explanation.

She can be an ambiguous ally, an informant, or an antagonist depending on the contract she has active.

SCAVENGERS (Base breed)

The Scavengers are descendants of humans who mixed their blood with other species (orcs, goblins, dark bloodlines) for so many generations that they ceased to be recognizably human. They retain humanoid facial features, but their bodies have been rewritten: slightly stronger than a human, and extremely fast, with reflexes and stamina that rival those of natural predators.

They inhabit the edges of the world: deserts, Greylands, and the fringes of the Red Wind Steppes, near where the map becomes indistinct. They live in nomadic clans of up to 100 members, without fixed cities, following caravans and isolated settlements.

They attack in swarms: they surround their prey from multiple sides, using their speed to prevent them from forming a defense. They steal everything of value (gold, weapons, water, mana crystals) and, if hunger drives them or the prey isn't worth loot, they devour it without ritual, out of habit and necessity.

They have no permanent leaders: each clan follows whoever has the "best nose" (detects prey, water, or caravans from miles away). They lose their position as soon as they fail, without ceremony.

They are feared and hunted by caravans and dwarves, but within their clans they show fierce family loyalty towards young and old, contradicting their reputation as soulless monsters.

SYSTEM OF MAGIC AND RELIGION
Magic comes from the Deep Stream and manifests in five disciplines: Elemental (fire, water, earth, air), Arcane (pure manipulation of energy), Natural (life, healing, growth), Shadow (death, shadows, illusion) and Binding (magic of pacts and contracts, extremely powerful and dangerous).
The gods exist, but they are distant. They do not speak directly; they send signs, dreams, and champions. There are six major gods and dozens of minor or local gods. Clerics receive real power in exchange for real devotion: if a cleric acts against their god's principles, they gradually lose their abilities.
This is the world of Aethermoor. Everything is interconnected, everything has a story, and around every corner there is something to discover, negotiate, fight, or simply experience.

BIG CITIES
The cities of Aethermoor are complex organisms divided by species, culture, and wealth. The largest city is called Vaelthar and has over 80,000 inhabitants.
Each city has distinct districts:
The Human District is the most chaotic and commercial: narrow streets, permanent markets, thieves' guilds operating almost openly, and a guard that looks the other way if paid well.
The Dwarf District is literally built in descending layers beneath the city: what you see on the surface is just the facade. Its forges work day and night, and the sound of hammer on anvil never stops.
The Elven Enclave is always located in the highest and most beautiful part of the city, with living wooden architecture and gardens that bloom in every season. The elves levy an unofficial tax on any non-elf who wants to do business there.
The Lesser Races Quarter is where goblins, fungari, nagas, and other marginalized species live together. It is dangerous but incredibly rich in information, rare artifacts, and unusual abilities.
Cities also have powerful institutions: Guild Councils that control trade, Magic Academies with their own political agendas, Orders of Chivalry linked to different gods, and a spy network that no one acknowledges but everyone knows about.

SMALL TOWNS
Villages are centers of daily life, generally with between 80 and 400 inhabitants, a mix mainly of humans and dwarves. Each village has its own identity: one might be famous for its mushroom beer, another for its blacksmiths who work with meteorites, and yet another for being the only place where magical pigs that can smell gold are bred.
Typical village services: blacksmith (weapons, armor, tools), tavern (information, side quests, fights), weekly market (rare materials, seeds, domesticated beasts), healer (basic potions, diagnosis of curses), and sometimes a small chapel dedicated to some minor god.
The materials the user can collect include: common iron, silver (effective against spectral creatures), mana crystals (for potions and spells), beast hides, medicinal plants, dungeon fungi with unique properties, and on rare occasions fragments of Aetherstone, the most valuable material in the world.
Life in a small town has its own conflicts: debts between families, land disputes, a corrupt mayor, rumors of a newly discovered nearby dungeon, or a creature that steals cattle at night.

THE DUNGEONS
The dungeons of Aethermoor are not mere caves: they are ancient structures with a purpose. Some were temples of forgotten gods, others prisons for unkillable creatures, and still others were laboratories of mages who mysteriously vanished.
Each dungeon has between 3 and 12 floors, and the difficulty increases with depth. The first few levels usually have weak guardians like walking skeletons, wandering spirits, or acid slimes. The middle levels feature mechanical traps (arrows, false floors, gases), arcane puzzles (runes that must be activated in order, mirrors that reflect the past), and intelligent enemies like lesser vampires or undead mages. The deepest levels hold the true dangers: liches with centuries of accumulated power, beasts bound by ancient magic that cannot be killed with ordinary weapons, and trophy chambers where the prize can range from a legendary weapon to a fragment of a dead god.
The hidden rooms are activated in different ways: pressing a specific torch, speaking words in an ancient language, solving a mathematical riddle with stars on the ceiling, or simply waiting silently for a full minute. Some hidden rooms don't contain treasure but information: books that reveal the history of the world, or visions of the place's past.
Dungeons also have internal ecosystems: creatures that don't attack the player because they're busy attacking each other, warring monster factions that could be exploited, and even wandering merchants stuck in mid-levels selling rare items at absurd prices.

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The Ethereal Leviathans are the most disturbing and least documented. They are described as translucent, almost luminous figures, visible underwater on nights of a full moon, with forms that the human eye cannot properly process. The few who have seen them and survived report recurring nightmares for years, in which the leviathan looks down on them and in the dream always seems about to say something.
The Leviathans don't guard the sea out of simple territorial instinct. Or at least that's what those who have studied them from the safe distance of the cliffs believe. They seem to have a purpose. They don't attack fishing boats that don't venture too far out. They don't pursue those who retreat. They only act when something or someone tries to cross into what lies beyond, as if they were guardians of a border they didn't establish but have obeyed since before any civilization existed on Aethermoor.
There is a minor religious order, the Eyes of the Abyss, who believe that the leviathans are not enemies but tests. That passage to the ancestral dimension is not achieved by evading or destroying them, but by somehow being recognized by them as worthy of crossing. How this is accomplished, no one knows. The members of this order spend their lives in ports and on cliffs, observing the sea, taking notes, and hoping to understand something that perhaps has no translation in mortal language.

THE LEVIATHANS
They are the closest thing to a willful force of nature that exists on Aethermoor. They are not animals in any useful sense of the word: they are marine entities of incomprehensible scale, some of which have been sighted from cliffs and described as "moving islands," with backs covered in coral and creatures living upon them unaware that they inhabit a living being.
No one knows how many leviathans exist. Historical records document at least twelve distinct sightings that could correspond to different individuals, although some scholars argue that it could be the same creature at different times, given that no sailor has been able to observe them long enough to make comparisons. What is known is that they don't act randomly: when a ship crosses a certain threshold of ocean depth, the leviathans appear. They don't always attack immediately. Sometimes they simply surround the vessel and wait, as if assessing the situation. But the end result is always the same. There are documented differences between the sightings that suggest at least three distinct types:
Surface Leviathans, the most common in relative terms, are those that partially emerge and whose bodies can be glimpsed from above. They have vaguely serpentine shapes with appendages that some describe as fins and others as rudimentary arms. Their roar, if it can be called that, generates waves up to ten meters high.
Deep Leviathans never surface. They are only detected by the sudden darkness beneath the ship's hull and the abrupt drop in temperature of the surrounding water. Their existence is known because some ships have been destroyed from below without anything surfacing.

Gorvath the Broken—God of war, chaos, and creative destruction. He is not evil in the simple sense: he represents the idea that some things must be destroyed so that others may be born. Orcs invoke him before battles, though he has never answered any tribe directly.
Ysolde, the Deep Green One—Goddess of nature, growth, and cycles. The Sylvari (Tree Men) consider her their literal mother. Druids and shamans are her closest intermediaries. It is said that when she walks the world, her footsteps cause trees to sprout that take centuries to grow.
Vel, the Balance—the most mysterious of all. It has no clergy, no temples, no established symbol. It represents the precise point between magic and non-magic, between life and death, between order and chaos. Philosophers debate whether Vel is truly a god or rather a law of the universe with its own consciousness.
Kraethon, the Hungry One—The seventh god, and the only one the others consider dangerous even to themselves. He is the god of emptiness, oblivion, and absolute consumption. He does not destroy to create: he destroys for the sake of destruction. His followers are secret cults that seek to hasten the end of all things. It is rumored that Kraethon is not asleep like the others: he is waiting.
No god intervenes directly in mortal affairs on a regular basis. What they do is send signs: dreams that seem too real, impossible coincidences, divine messengers called Heralds who are creatures halfway between mortal and divine. A Herald isn't a fairytale angel: it's something that makes people instinctively cross to the other side of the street without knowing why.
Faith in Aethermoor is not blind: the gods demonstrably exist. But that doesn't make them benevolent, approachable, or interested in anyone's individual well-being. Praying to Auren doesn't guarantee their protection; it only guarantees that your attempt is recorded somewhere in the cosmic record.

In Aethermoor there are exactly seven gods, though some sages debate whether that number is definitive or simply represents those who have left a mark on the world's history. They are not metaphors or abstract forces: they are real entities of unimaginable power, whose mere physical presence alters reality for miles around. The sky changes color, animals flee or prostrate themselves, and weak-minded mortals can lose their sanity at the mere sight of them from afar.
They are, however, almost impossible to find. They do not live in temples or accessible celestial palaces. Some dwell on planes of existence adjacent to the physical world, others move through Aethermoor in forms no mortal can recognize, and at least one, according to the oldest texts, has slumbered for centuries somewhere beneath the bottom of the Arcane Sea. Finding a god is not a matter of merit or faith: it is a convergence of circumstances that perhaps occurs only once per age.
The seven known gods are:
Auren, the Eternal Dawn—God of light, justice, and order. His symbol is a sun split into two perfect halves. He is associated with paladins and legal systems. It is said that his voice sounds like thousands of bells at once and that whoever hears it cannot lie for seven days.
Morveth, the Weaver—Goddess of fate, the threads of time, and consequences. Neither good nor evil: simply inevitable. Soothsayers pray to her before reading the future. She appears, supposedly, as an old woman who is always sewing something, though no one has ever been able to see what.
Duskara, the Nameless One—Goddess of shadows, secrets, and voluntary death. The Dark Elves worship her above all else. Her true name is forbidden to be spoken aloud; "Duskara" is merely the epithet given to her by humans. Her priests never show her face.

However, not all orcs belong to this cycle of violence. There is a minority called in their own language "Vrak'sol," which could be translated as "those who walk alone." These are orcs who at some point in their lives—after a defeat, a loss, a revelation, or simply weary of so much conflict—abandoned their tribe. This act is considered the ultimate dishonor by their own kind, and any Vrak'sol found by their former tribe will be attacked without mercy.
Lone orcs who manage to stray far enough often end up on the fringes of small towns or in the lesser-race neighborhoods of large cities. They are distrustful by nature and rarely speak of their past. Some work as guards, porters, or mercenaries, professions where their strength becomes a commodity. A few, the rarest, manage to form genuine bonds with other species—especially dwarves, who value strength and straightforward honesty—and become allies with an almost unbreakable loyalty. A Vrak'sol orc who chooses to protect someone does so with the same ferocity with which he once conquered.

ORCS (added to Races and Species)
Orcs are one of the most feared species in Aethermoor. Physically, they resemble goblins in their facial features—flat noses, pointed ears, and greenish or grayish skin—but that's where the resemblance ends: where a goblin stands little more than a meter tall, the average orc is over two and a half meters, with musculature that rivals that of lesser giants. Their lower canines protrude like natural daggers, and their hands can bend iron bars effortlessly.
They are predators by nature and conquerors by culture. Orc tribes are organized under the law of the strongest: the chief, called Grauth, gains his position by killing his predecessor in open combat and loses it in the same way. There is no diplomacy within the tribe, only the hierarchy of muscle and scars. Their settlements are fortified camps made of beast bones, uprooted timbers, and trophies of their conquests nailed to posts as warnings.
When an orc tribe decides to expand, it lays waste to everything in its path: villages, caravans, military outposts. Not out of senseless cruelty, but because in their worldview, territory is power, and power is survival. Orcs respect strength above all else; a warrior who faces them fearlessly and survives will earn something akin to their respect, though they will never admit it in words.

Goblins — Small, ingenious, and chaotic. They love mechanisms, traps, and shady dealings. Some villages tolerate them as artisans of clocks and artifacts; others expel them for their pranks, which sometimes kill. They have their own language of hisses and clicks.
Tree Men (Sylvari) — Plant creatures of slow movement but immense strength. They do not speak often; when they do, their words carry literal weight: it is said that their promises are etched into their bark. They live for centuries and hold the memory of forests that no longer exist.
Rare Species: the Nagas (serpent humanoids, masters of poison magic), the Fungari (mushroom beings with hive minds, silent and unpredictable), the Living Sands of the southern desert (sand elementals with fragmented consciousness), and the Star Mimics (creatures that perfectly imitate people, no one knows how many are infiltrated in the cities).

BREEDS AND SPECIES
Humans — The most adaptable race. They are found in almost every corner of the world. They are traders, soldiers, farmers, thieves, and rulers. Their short lifespans make them ambitious.
Elves — Beings with a lifespan of thousands, arrogant by nature, though not always out of malice. They have two main branches: the Dawn Elves (cities in the treetops, magic of light and nature) and the Dark Elves or Duskari (live underground, master shadow magic and poisons, trade in secrets).
Dwarves—Masters of forging and engineering. They build their cities by digging downwards, creating vast subterranean chambers illuminated by magma crystals. They are wary of strangers but fiercely loyal to their allies. They possess generational memory: they remember offenses from three centuries ago as if they were yesterday.
Giants — There are several subspecies: Stone Giants (slow, wise, live for millennia), Storm Giants (nomadic, live in the clouds above snowy peaks), and Bone Giants (degenerate and violent, products of corrupt magic). Not all are hostile; some offer protection to small villages in exchange for tribute or companionship.
Unicorns—They are not mere magical horses. They are sentient beings of great intelligence who only reveal themselves to those they consider "pure of intention," though they define that purity themselves using mysterious criteria. Their horn possesses extraordinary healing properties, making them a target for poachers.
Mages — They are not a race but a vocation, although some are born with an innate arcane aptitude. There are three main orders: the Blue Order (elemental magic, accepts any race), the Brotherhood of the Veil (specializing in illusions and espionage, highly secretive), and the Red Mages (outlaws who experiment with necromania and creature fusion).

But the gods would not be the only inhabitants.
They speak of the Primordial Demons, beings that are not evil in the moral sense but in the structural sense: their existence contradicts that of the ordered world, like a musical note that destroys the instrument that produces it. They were not created by any god; they predate them, remnants of what existed before anything with form existed. The gods contain them there, in the Ancestral Dimension, in the same way that a dam contains water: with constant effort and without eternal guarantees.
And then there are the Nameless Beings, entities that even the most daring texts do not venture to describe. Their existence is only mentioned as a fact known to the gods, who prefer not to reveal it. It is said that a god, when asked by a Herald what lay beyond even the Ancestral Dimension, responded with a single phrase that the Herald refused to repeat aloud.
What is consistent across all sources is this: the Ancestral Dimension is neither empty nor abandoned. It is full, active, and observes the material world with an attention that no one should wish to attract.

THE END OF THE KNOWN WORLD
Aethermoor has edges. Not in the sense of a precipice or a wall, but in something more unsettling: in every direction, if one travels far enough, the habitable territory ends and the Sea of ​​No Return begins, an ocean that stretches towards a horizon that never changes, under a sky that from a certain point ceases to have clouds and acquires a tone between pearl gray and muted violet, as if the air itself were different there.
The world's most daring cartographers have managed to map as far as what they call the Fog Line, a natural boundary where visibility drops to zero and compasses cease to function. Beyond that line, ships that have ventured in have not returned, with two exceptions: a dwarf sailor who reached port completely gray-haired and mute, unable to describe what he saw, and a ghost ship found adrift with its entire crew dead but without any visible injuries, their faces frozen in an expression that witnesses described as "too happy to be natural."
The reason no one crosses the Fog Line isn't fear of the unknown. It's something much more concrete. WHAT LIES ON THE OTHER SIDE
No one knows for sure. But theories, ancient texts, and the dreams of certain prophets all point in a consistent direction: if a mortal were to cross the Leviathan Zone and venture beyond the Mist Line, they would reach what the world's oldest texts call the Ancestral Dimension.
It is not a physical place in the conventional sense. It is described as a layer of reality superimposed on the material world, where the laws of physics, time, and causality operate differently. There, the seven gods are said to have originally resided before the world took its current form, and there they continue to dwell in their true forms, not as projections or signs, but as what they truly are.

🌍 The World of Aethermoor — Bible of the Universe
Year: ~1500 | Era: Medieval Fantasy
THE WORLD AND ITS COSMOLOGY
The world is called Aethermoor, a plane of existence where magic is not a rare phenomenon but a natural force as real as wind or fire. It floats on an ocean of arcane energy called the Deepstream, which nourishes all magical creatures and allows sorcerers to channel power. There are three moons: Solara (golden, linked to light magic), Umbrel (silver, linked to illusion and shadows), and Keth (red, associated with war and necromania). Depending on the lunar phase, certain spells become more or less powerful.
The world has six major geographical regions: the Central Plains (where mixed towns and cities abound), the Iron Mountains (ancestral home of the dwarves), the Everwoods (elven territory), the Red Wind Steppes (dominated by giants and nomads), the Greylands (barren areas filled with dungeons and ruins), and the Shores of the Arcane Sea (home to amphibious races and traders).