The Noble Expertise of Creating the Remaining Organism is a gentlemen's club. People who don't belong call it the Noble Expertise, or perhaps the Expertise, but the people in the club call themselves necromancers, and the club itself N.E.C.R.O.
Troth Glenbeard was a dwarf with a mission. And that was destruction.
From there, things happened. And the Irondeeps got a Subterranean-Transport-System-That-Moves-Things-Around-Faster-Than-Equine-Means (aka, in modern-speak, a subway).
"She sails up'n'down the Tristis River. All them river folk see her an' give her a wide berth. Superstitious lot, them river folk. 'Course, we adventurers kill of monstrous superstitions of the rich type on a daily basis! Who're we ta judge? So's anyways, she is said to only appear when the moon is full and the werewolves howl. And though she's ne'er violent, you can always 'ear a moanin' sound. I got no idea what's aboard that ship, but whate'er it is, I want nothin' to do with it."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub
The swirling snow fell on the soldier's shield,
covering the symbol of Hrothen's Hope.
The swirling snow fell on the dwarf's black beard,
and melted into the darkness.
-opening poem of Hrothen's Curse, a dwarven tale
Magic, by its very nature, would greatly help not just the PCs, but the masses, too. Here are some magic items that the commoners's use.
The head office of the Guild, which has now spread to have a branch office in almost all countries. The idiot elves won't let us map out there forests!
A toilet that teleports your feces onto the PottyPortal's Poop Hill.
Banished from their foolish tree-hugger kin, the Plains Elves were forced into a semi-nomadic lifestyle.
The Sanguis Islands is an archipelago nation. Dangerous to sail through them, the people who live there are self-sufficient, independant, stuborn, and resilient.
"Aye, I've been to Bloodmaw. Its out in the ocean, and lies right on the Abez-Evetepor trade route. Or at least where the trade route would have been if it wasn't for Bloodmaw. Its this maelstrom, perpetually spinning and swirling, abou' 50 yards across? And the sea around the whole thing is a deep crimson. The color of blood. And around the whole thing is a storm. Some days the Bloodmaw is sated, and isn't as violent. But some days ye can't hope to survive. On bad days it can take a ship that a mile away. Thank the gods that it didn't take me."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub
"I once went questin' for Alexander Sehtolc's five clothes. Each item has a magic power that the wearer can use, see. And when you get all seven, each power is amplified. 'Course, I never could find Alex's boots."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
"O'er the Wall Mounts there's this race of creatures. They look humanoid, but big. Mebbe 15, 20 feet tall? There all covered in this hair. Most of the species' hair is an auburn, but theres some that are black or blonde or brown. There faces look kinda like a cat face. The eyes are always one solid color, but the colors differ, like with humans. But the thing that makes them special is that they milk our females, like we milk cows. They breed 'em. They treat us like cattle. They even breed out the aggressiveness and intelligence."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub
"The HAS Endeavor is this ship. Its run by these 'obbit pirates. One day, me and me mates were sailing to this island, 'cause there was some old dungeon that I had a really good reason to loot at the time. So's as we sailed, them pirates led by their cap'n, a 'obbit called Ralph, boarded us, and stole all me gold! I was pissed for ages."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub
"The Walk. Oh, aye, I've heard o' the walk. Its this peninsula, south of us, where the sides o' this peninsula are cliffs. At the end o' this peninsula is this big area, riddles with caves. In them caves is a huge treasure. At least, according to these rumors I've heard. 'Course, them caves have been taken over by orcs. I'd go take the treasure meself if I was younger."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub
By late afternoon, the sky starts to cloud over. The sun shines behind the fluffy clouds, gilding the edges and showing a Jacob's-ladder of rays streaming through the gaps...very pretty. Gradually the clouds shift into a new configuration: you realize with awe-struck, preternatural clarity that the clouds form a map of a coast-line that you know against the blue sky as ocean: surely it's a Sign! Suddenly, the golden beams coalesce into one long ray that strikes across the blue. A star-like gleam flashes under the ray: perhaps it is an island? But the charts show no island there...who would want to hide an island? Who could do it?
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"I take it ye've ne'er fought a Semblance. Nasty undead fiends they be. 'course, they don't look undead. They don't have gleamin' bones, or rottin' flesh. No, sir! The Semblance looks just like you or me. Except for when its tryin' ta get you. I take it ye've ne'er fought a Semblance. If you had, you'd be dead."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub