"The sun goes dark and chaos is come again"
--Samahhi; Book of Truth
"Though the crusade we wage now has not been waged for all of eternity to this point, we know that it shall be waged for all of eternity from this point on, there will always be those misguided wretches that don't believe, and it is our duty to bring to them the light of wisdom, with the torch and with the sword."
--High Priest *********
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This setting is one of warfare and strife, where none have truly know peace in generations, where the spirits that are worshipped fight amongst themselves, and among their worshippers. A great empire to the south is rapidly expanding, driven by a religious fervor that borders on insanity, pushing ever north, burning and building as they go. The moon in the sky is easily the size of a man's chest, and the tides, though less frequent than ours, raise the seas to a height that rivals the height of a hurricanes storm surge.
To the east are the last remnants of the once great elves, shattered from within and slaughtered from without for generations until they were reunited by their god-king, the Dragon Lord, a man with a spirit so powerful it can break back into the mortal coil after its death.
In the west are the tribe-folk, beings that barely deserve the title of men, hideous to look upon and detested by all. Worshippers of nature, these people are the villains in children's tales, often uniting with dwarves to form raiding parties that plagued the countryside until some bold hero slaughtered every last one of them.
In the mountain fastnesses and artic wastes of the north are the dwarves, clans of vicious raiders and barbarians. Worshippers of demons and weapons, truly believing only in the strength of their own arms, these people have plagued those to their south from time immemorial.
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The Samahen - Worshiping their god, Sama, they seek to spread the "One Truth" that is their religion, through the sword and spear. In this drive is found the only reason they could conquer so much, because their book calls for all to take of a weapon to drive the infidels from the face of the world, a task that is taken very seriously, and, so, all serve at least three years in the army, shipped out to the far reaches of the empire to spread their faith.
Their cities are massive structures, huge, flat-topped pyramids, standing four stories tall at least, and miles long; often with extensive underground habitats as well, where their underworld and manufacturing often resides. For miles and miles around their cities lie farmlands, massive plantations staffed entirely by slaves captured from the defeated peoples that they've conquered.
Their society is one that remains stable only so long as it continues to expand, their economy driven by the need for items of war, their plantations working so well only because they can drive the slaves like animals, their people only remaining united so long as they have a common enemy to hate; if this situation changed, it would be quite likely that the Samahen empire would be torn apart from the inside out, as the cancer that they have so long channeled outwards had nowhere but inwards to grow.
The Riven - Called the Ratfolk by many, these people are short and dexterous, often scheming, and entirely without a belief in property at the personal level. Seafarers from birth, they are the traders of the world, often sailing beyond the edges of the map, and returning years later with tales of mystical beasts and boats full of weapons and armor that challenge the craftsmanship of the dwarves.
They make incredible traders, mainly because of their sense of a community, constantly committing themselves to service before self, and seeing the tribe as a whole as the only being that matters. When they reach a place where they seek to buy and/or sell goods, they detach the segment of their city that has their trade goods in it, and float close to the place where their trading, allowing outsiders to walk among their wares, while their own traders scrounge through the others' wares, and their thieves, rakes, and cutpurses range through the city procuring anything that isn't bolted down for resale in another city.
When the city is sailing, all hands are put to use. If someone doesn't know how to sail, they repair sails, or go ashore to gather food or water, the second of which is far more important than the first. Those few that are more adept with the sword or bow than with anything else are used to protect their gatherers or to hunt for anything to help feed the clan on the land.
The Tribals - Quite unlike the legends of them, the tribals are really a quite gentle people, caring for their young with a sense of duty and protection only rivaled by mother bears, and more than willing to take in a stranger on little more than a promise of goodwill. The spirits they worship, though many of them need blood as part of their rituals, are generally spirits of the harvest or hunting, or on rarer occasions, elementals.
The only truth in all the tales is their looks, and even those are mildly exaggerated. The tribals are often scarred, both as decoration and as worship to their spirits, and a great many have tattoos or piercings, with anything from human bone to wood being used as the item to be inserted into the hole.
In the farther eastern tribes this has slowly changed, older spirits of warfare and death and plague are seeing a resurgence in worship, as the people in these regions are driven up against the indefatigable force of arms that is the Samahen Empire.
In warfare they are hotheaded and rash, often charging in small groups or as individuals against the phalanxes that the Samahen use as their primary method of warfare on this front, beating against these lines like waves against a seawall, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
The Elves - A once proud race, brought low by it's own hubris, they're now bitter and forlorn, pessimists to the man, their only remaining pride is in holding off the advances of the Samahen into their foothills, killing ten of them for every loss they suffer, viciously fighting for every inch of their ancestral homeland.
The ruins of their former empire lay scattered across the continent, and the dark forests of the flatlands to the west are thick with the fell sorceries that they used against themselves in the horrid civil war that torn them to pieces. In the darker places one can find small populations of their beasts of war, the Rhax and the Grafskin.
United once again under a single ruler, but far to weak to mount anything but a defensive war full of retrogrades and ambushes, they are facing the twilight of their race, but still they fight. They refuse to give in to the despair that lies constantly in their thoughts, because to do so would make them unworthy of claiming any piece of their heritage, nad so they fight, day to day, for the sole sake of keeping their heart beating and the blood of their enemies flowing.
The Dwarves - Viewed by all as a uniformly unlikable race, and not without reason. They're lewd and vicious, viewing any sign of weakness of spirit or body as an invitation to attack. Their greed is unparalleled among the mortal races, individuals constantly striving to build up massive personal fortunes, often at the expense of the "Lowmen" their term for those who don't live in the mountains they call home.
Their exports include death, famine, weapons, and bloodstone; the latter two being the only reason anyone would seek out a dwarven family. Their weapons are unmatched in balance and functionality, and often times are quite beautiful as well, and it is said there's no better weapon to kill someone with than one of dwarven make. The second, bloodstone, is a mineral found only in a few of the dwarves deepest mines, a stone the color of half dried blood that disrupts magic around them, and, when ingested, drives people into the deepest rages.
