Midgard, the Central Realm. It is here that life as most know it dwells; many races struggle, some together and some alone, to recreate the a world not plagued by horror and perhaps even retrieve pieces of the glory and knowledge of the world as it was before the Moonfall.

Once, order in Midgard was kept by the Humans, the race appointed as its curators by the Vanished Gods, but in the great wars of old they betrayed their duty and brought ruin to the land, and now few remain, outcasts who are often hunted and killed.

Within this central of the three realms, it could be said that three more exist: the continents of Aland, Faroe, and Svalbard.

Aland in the west, where the Kindred of Chaos preserve what remains of their old ways and hold the mountains and valleys against the Wilding as best they can, where the Elves and their Dukedoms hold sway over much and turn a blind eye to the world at large, where the capitol of the Caesium Legion rests and cares not for the affairs of any as they take and war with all the world, where the Conservatory Arcanum work tirelessly to master the arcane and rain death upon the spawn of the Wilding that rise from the south. The enormous mountain range known as the Shield of Stone serves as a barrier between yet farther southern lands long lost to the Wilding, protecting for now the plains, the grasslands, the great forests.

Faroe in between, the great chain of islands and the closest thing to a sanctuary that exists in these times, a place where all are accepted or at worst tolerated. The boats and ships of the Halflings move trade and life endlessly, and in the south those agents of The Frontier approved by the Heartland Isles work to hold off the Wilding’s approach. Here there is something close to prosperity, and where the the massive and insidious swarms of the Caesium Legion’s pirates have not pillaged and burned, the islands teem with life and the ever-present seas glitter and roar.

Svalbard in the east, accursed land of the fallen moon, relentlessly enduring, where the northern lands of The Reclaimed, governed by the great council of the Dragonborn, the Tieflings, and the Dwarves, who send their greatest and all who volunteer to join with The Frontier to expand the territory of The Reclaimed nation, waging a fierce war against the Wilding in the very places where it is oldest and strongest. The land is hard and rocky, resistant to the life that The Reclaimed and The Frontier force upon it, and bitter winds carry tainted dust from the south.

In Midgard there were once what exist now as mere enigmas lost to the past and the fall of the moon: the Old Roads where it is said that one could travel to the Severed upper and lower realms, paths to Vanaheim and Jotunheim. But these roads are long lost to all, the slightest hints of their locations and nature forgotten by the march of centuries, and none can say now who and what truly dwell in those realms.

Here is the land where one by one the stars flicker and die and every season the sun’s light and warmth weakens, every winter longer than the last, where madness encroaches ever deeper into habitable lands. Here, what remains of the world struggles to survive the age now known as the Years of the Long Night.


Midgard: Years of the Long Night MalkuthSephira