Elders say the oceans nearly covered the world once. All you know is that’s a distant memory. The waters have receded long ago, the world’s seas nearly sucked dry from the Visitors. Now you just try to eek out a meager existence among rusted hulks of great ships that once nestled in a large port.

Darting out at night to get what shellfish you can from salt pools, fortunately the metal husks of ancient ships are great rain catchers, and offer a means to escape any scans from patrolling Visitor drones. Life is hard and any moment that offers respite, you hold it tight, and drink deep. Link.

An unstoppable army of faceless creatures march among giants.Link.

A perfect image of ever-slipping sanity, or a haunting memory from a fervid dream. Link.

Perched atop a hill, overlooking the abundant farm plains, Giant’s Toe Hold is a bastion of order on the Bleak Frontier. Simple hovels which dot the periphery of the fortress, have peasants go about their work peacefully. They know that any orc or goblin raids which come, they can seek safety within the thick stone and granite walls, able to weather any siege for almost a year due to the ample holds of grain locked away in its deep vaults. Link.

A warren of thieves, beggars, whores, urchins, and cutthroats, the Soot is a quarter of the Imperial city one should avoid. Named for the choking foul air from the smokestacks of ever-burning wood and coal, it’s a haven for rogues and assassins. However it’s also the perfect place for those seeking unsavory work, ill gotten goods, or a place of refuge from the law. Link.

Known for their survival and tracking skills, the ward elves are highly sought as guides through the dense forests of the Western Reaches. They take their namesake from the arcane glyphs of protection which adorn their body. Tales say it is from the blood of their first kill, infused into their skin through some ritual of primal magic. Link.

A temple of an isolated sect of monks, renowned for their arts of healing and martial prowess. Link.