Story World | For Players
Intro | Boxed Text
Wildendrem! Where quests unfurl like the petals of the blood-red poppy. Where monsters haunt the edges of the world—and the edges of the world draw ever nearer.
Aerthur the Hornèd King is gone, but his shining vision lives on, borne by countless knights over a land in the grips of a sorcerous delirium. The sun has gone strange, and the roads are beset by phantoms and brigands. The once united provinces grow ever more isolated, ever more themselves.
Now the valiant and the foolhardy alike seek glory in regions riddled with sinister enchantments. Oaths sworn, oaths broken, treasures claimed and lost and claimed again—and so the whirligig of the seasons unveils its perilous mysteries.
Wildendrem! Your golden age is ended. New adventures unfold in the light of a ragged sun.
Gnolune, the Valley of Flowers—Gnolune is the wealthiest of Wildendrem’s nine provinces. Here prosperity grows unchecked even as cruel miracles blossom in the ever-encroaching wilds. Here the fruitful abundance of a lost age overripens and ferments while relics of terrible power whisper from the wine-drunk shadows.
With Aerthur gone, Gnolune’s rulers descend deeper into decadence. Conflict is brewing—between the spirit-bound Riverkeeper League and the depraved Silvered Nobles, between the mystagogues of the Conclave of the Ordered Firmament and the recently reawakened powers of the ancient world.
Their struggles for dominance play out over the province’s five regions:
Verinwine Vale: a fertile floodplain of gently sloping meadows and sprawling orchards. At its heart stands Gnolune’s capital, Cimbrine, with its hundred splendid towers.
Brobdin Wood: inhabited by proud outlaws, smugglers, and bootleggers, all working under the protection of rebellious nobles who claim giants as their ancestors.
Becqueshire: a mountainous region of isolated estates, ancient ruins, wild magic, and a people devoted to arts most peculiar.
The Gnarl: a dangerous wilderness haunted by foul beasts, malicious specters, and animal-headed bandits.
Ylgotha: a torn and wasted hill country, the site of a devastating battle between Aerthur’s forces and the Selenian war-wizards of old.
Once
A sprawling empire of cruel delights, of beauty and blood sport, of soaring aqueducts, winding roads, and temples innumerable. This playground of the gods covered the whole of the land, but now its terrible wisdom is lost; even its name is lost. It is known only as *Once, the dark mystery underfoot, the labyrinthine ruin of depth-bound marvels, gleaming troves, and hungering shadow.
The Era of Saints
The empire ended with a brief and devastating confluence of sorcery and holy fire. Were they revolutionaries, those Saints of old? Would-be tyrants under new banners? Or servants of even older powers? The Saints brought down the gods and bound their quintessence to relics of wondrous power. But the incandescent dreamings of the Saints soon overflowed those mean vessels, and a searing ruination followed.
The Golden Age
Only with the rise of Hornèd Aerthur the King was the world repaired. Then intrepid knights quested for the relics of the saints, slew monsters of the ancient world, sealed the old tombs, and brought peace to every corner of Wildendrem. A new prosperity was forged, and with it a new faith, governed by the Conclave of the Ordered Firmament, to better contain the perilous wonders of old. A just and abiding power reigned, and would reign forever, it seemed, until...
Now
Aerthur is missing, and the sun has gone strange and monstrous. The steward Unther, a hollow suit of armor, makes oracular proclamations, mystifying the old king’s ministers. An intoxicating strangeness ripples over the land as knights of myriad orders, in the grips of lunatic passions, undertake quests of dubious provenance. Meanwhile, the people of Wildendrem stray from the faith, seeking the forbidden mysteries of old. Tensions rise among the nine provinces as relics and treasures thought lost or secured long ago return to the light of day.
And into this new and feverish light come those who would claim the treasures for themselves—wanderers, adventurers, and rogues, the inevitable nuisance of every age, worth nothing more than the stories they leave in their wake.