Col Fen

Col Fen was once a busy village, serving the transient community of workers traveling to and from the mines in the Blackfang Mountains. The onset of war led to the decline of mining in the region and the withdrawal of the garrison protecting the region from the creatures of The Morass. In the 5 years since, the settlement has seen a steep decline in fortune and now finds itself bereft of industry and in a state of near siege from the undead horrors of the south.

The Morass

The Morass, known locally as “Grey Marsh” or simply “The Bog”, is a huge region of swampland, about 100 miles across, along the southwestern edge of the Blackfang Mountains. Few souls have ventured into its heart, leaving the region largely uncharted and untamed. Under the reign of Haryld the Great, a drainage system was engineered and a ring of watchtowers was built around the perimeter of the swamp, keeping its foul denizens at bay and allowing the settlement and cultivation of the surrounding lands. The garrisons were recalled at the beginning of the war, leaving the towers to fall into ruin and the evils of the mire to escape into the surrounding lands. As the drainage system has fallen into disrepair, the swamp has begun to expand once more, swallowing up whole communities in a matter of days.

Every so often a desperate vagrant or vainglorious treasure hunter ventures into the marsh, searching for a mythical horde of treasure said to have been left by an ancient king. Invariably the unfortunate soul finds her demise in the stinking morass, to one day return to the surface as a shambling creature of the night.

The Tehama Mountains

The Tehama mountains comprise essentially three ranges of ever higher mountains, surmounted on their eastern edge by the formidable Injuk Glacier field. The western most mountains are hospitable enough to sustain a small population of nomadic tribesmen, grazing sheep and ibex on the lower slopes. The most notable settlement in the Tehama mountains is the dwarven city of Qal’at-Hisn which lies, part carved into the living rock of the mountains themselves.

The Shrouded Peak

At the very heart of the sacred plateau, towering over the huge mountains around it, lies the Shrouded Peak. The royal cartographers of the house of Ambroushire have estimated its height to be well over 25 miles. An accurate calculation is impossible as the summit lies in a permanent cloud of mist. It is said that this cloud is composed of droplets of air itself, condensing in the frigid cold of the heavens. First hand accounts of the foolhardy few who have tried scaling its lower, sister peaks, tell of nights so cold that air falls like rain, forming puddles of frozen liquid that burn careless or curious fingers.

Those who choose to brave the treacherous rockfalls of the Tehama Mountains and the permanent winter of the Injuk Glaciers, or pass unseen under the cruel gaze of the frost giants of the Pass of King Bohr may get a glimpse of the shrouded peak and the strange lights that play on its vertiginous upper slopes.


The Fable of Ipsissimus

Told to children at a young age as a warning against pride and hubris, the fable of Ipsissimus has passed down though generation after generation of Almanians:

_Many years ago there lived a blacksmith named Ipsissimus. He lived alone in a barren land. But he was more skillful than any man who has ever walked the land. They say he could turn the spinning wheel with one hand and smith the finest armor with the other, all the while singing the most beautiful words ever sung.

Alone he turned the barren land into flourishing fields and built cities of gold. And alone he went mad. Each of his hands grew envious of the other’s abilities. They would scratch and pinch at each other. His mouth sung jealous songs about his eyes.

In time they could take each other’s company any more. They tore and bit away at each other until finally they were free from Ipsissimus’s body. Too late did his mind realize the senselessness of what had happened. Bereft of unity, his arms and legs were useless.

The land fell into ruins, never to be returned to its former glory._


The War of Angelic Succession TheMagicAngle