Norian Lore

The world of Norian arose from the ashes of a once great material plane. The ruins of the old world, from crumbling temples to battered remains of immense cities, are the only reminders of this epoch of glory. It was once true that Men, Elves and Dwarves, coexisted and flourished under the old gods. It is said the gods have forsaken this world; it is not difficult to see why. 

The material plane once housed the city of Elion, a hub of trade and commerce, where Half-Elven kings and queens ruled fairly over their realm. Elion’s walls were high, their temples grandiose, and the palace’s iconic and royal architecture can now only be seen in faded and torn pages of scripts from the great libraries of old. 

Far to the west within the depths of Eras Dorne, the oldest and greatest of forests, upon which magic is intertwined so deeply with nature that those within its borders are forever changed by its power, the Elves resided in their living castles of trees older than even the race of Men. Shut away from the world, they knew too well the age of glory was coming to its end. 

The Dwarves resided in the kingdom of Duērredune, in the Smoking Mountains to the east. Their capitol Korrēmor, or Boulderton in the common tongue, was a marvel of Dwarven stonework and masonry. The treasures they uncovered in that mountain are all but lost to time itself. The Dwarves fared far worse than the Elves in the coming fateful events which capsized the Second Age of Norian. 

Of all races, it was Men who fared worst of all. All but destroyed by The One Legion, a Hobgoblin force greater than the world had ever seen, the kingdom of Men under the kings of Elion lost more than the fair Elves or the wary Dwarves. Had it not been for the heroes of the realm: a Stormborne Sorceress, a Barbarian Wyvern rider, an Elemental Druid, a Ranger Elf from the south and a Wyvern rider Cleric trained in the ways of The Forsaken, they would have lost more. The One Legion was brought to its knees; but so were the great kingdoms of old. No one knows how such a force of Hobgoblins came to work together, and abandon the ways of legions destroying each other to gain power and influence. The armies marched on the Dwarves to the East, the elves to the West, and the Men. The Hobgoblins were ruthless warriors; their cold and calculated battle tactics saw them to the gates of the great city of Elion. The rest, is history. 

Now in the Third Age, nearly 1200 years since the fall from greatness, broken factions, power-hungry warlords, and some great leaders have given the realm of Norian some sense of structure and balance. Ryeberry is the closest town to our heroes, who find themselves in the swamps of Roften Moor; a desolate and expansive marshland which borders the Dwarven mountains of old. To the south, the once prosperous kingdom of the Sand Peoples lies broken and scattered. All that remains are tribes and factions. To the west, Eras Dorne still stands as tall and ominous as ever, and there are whispers that the Elven people survived the events of the Second Age, and wait until the world falls upon the favour of fate once more. Men have been reduced to roving bands of war tribes; some cities stand but they are few and far between. 

Welcome to Norian. Not everything is as it seems.