Darthin
Situated west of the Kingdom of Ehranor and South of the Crystal Islands, Darthin was a vibrant, proud, and prosperous nation. Its citizens were the favored of the gods, living in the shadows of Arah, the grand city once inhabited by the likes of Luin, Trygg, and Orvatas. Deeply spiritual, the Darthins looked after the buildings and structures left behind when the gods left Auriga, caring for them in the hopes that one day, the divine beings who created magic and bestowed it upon the world would return.
The Darthins were a peaceful people, hoping only to do their duty toward their gods and content to be rewarded in either this life or the next. When the guilds began feuding, Darthin as a nation tried to stay out of the conflict. This was not the sort of struggle that entire kingdoms got involved in. But when the strife overflowed into armed conflict, and guilds from the other human nations began fighting in the streets of Arah, Darthin rose to defend itself and the city of the gods. Soon after Darthin mobilized its armies, Ehranor and The Mageocracy did as well, and what had started as a dispute between localized groups became an all-out war.
The War raged for nearly fifty years. During that time, none of the three empires was able to assert dominance over either of the other two. While Ehranor, The Mageocracy, and Darthin were busy fighting with each other, they became blind to the threat from the rifts—the Krell. The Rift beasts swept in, taking Ehranor in a spectacular magical battle. At first, Darthin was saved from much of the fighting. The guilds and troops with allegiances to Ehranor and The Mageocracy withdrew, heading back to defend their homes. Darthin regrouped, granted a moment to prepare simply because they were farther West. The Krell had to make their way through Ehranor before they could reach the gates of Arah. But eventually Ehranor fell, and the Krell arrived in Darthin. Hopes were high that the Krell would be defeated quickly. The Darthin army was the equal of any in Auriga, and the invaders had already fought a long battle against the Ehranorin . But those hopes were dashed in less than twelve hours. The invaders reached the gates of Arah without breaking stride. The Darthins failed to protect their charge. With the defeat at the doorstep and the kingdom nearly in ruins, one man turned to forbidden magic. The king's own personal advisor in the matters of the arcane took it upon himself to destroy the invaders, no matter the cost. Unrolling one of the Lost Scrolls, kept inside a warded vault deep within the catacombs below Arah, he spoke the words of a litany that spelled the end of The Kingdom of Darthin forever. There are few who survived that day, now known as the Black Day. While the Krell were never allowed to step foot in Arah, few count what the king’s advisor did on that day as a victory. The resulting explosion felled the invading army where it stood, but so too did it kill all the people of the land. The beautiful city of Arah was consumed. What’s left now lies in a pile of ruins, blackened by the magic and years of neglect. All that remains in the wreckage of Darthin are the wandering dead—those souls unable to rest in the shadow of this great disaster. The Land of Darthin is one of death, the magic that had consumed all was not indiscriminate in its wrath. All life was culled from the land, from the largest beast to the smallest insect. The land was left black, with everything dead. It now sits as a land partially reclaimed, where nature tries to work its stranglehold back in but the magic of the spell still fluctuates killing swaths of creatures not strong enough to resist it. Forest sits bare for miles at a time to only have a small area flourished with life. The lands shift and split and move, with all grass and life pulled from the rich hills and fields turned to dust storms and sinking pits.
Towns once vibrant and bustling sit under soot and dirt. But the real dangers of Darthin come from its people, for the magic that took all life from them failed to keep them from walking still. Whole towns of undead roam and move above, in hordes seeking any life yet to remain. Shifting winds of magic pull the essence of life from those caught in it. Beast of the night and could machinations of those looking for a place to hide unwatched from the world all lurk in the skeleton of Darthin.
The Darthins were a peaceful people, hoping only to do their duty toward their gods and content to be rewarded in either this life or the next. When the guilds began feuding, Darthin as a nation tried to stay out of the conflict. This was not the sort of struggle that entire kingdoms got involved in. But when the strife overflowed into armed conflict, and guilds from the other human nations began fighting in the streets of Arah, Darthin rose to defend itself and the city of the gods. Soon after Darthin mobilized its armies, Ehranor and The Mageocracy did as well, and what had started as a dispute between localized groups became an all-out war.
The War raged for nearly fifty years. During that time, none of the three empires was able to assert dominance over either of the other two. While Ehranor, The Mageocracy, and Darthin were busy fighting with each other, they became blind to the threat from the rifts—the Krell. The Rift beasts swept in, taking Ehranor in a spectacular magical battle. At first, Darthin was saved from much of the fighting. The guilds and troops with allegiances to Ehranor and The Mageocracy withdrew, heading back to defend their homes. Darthin regrouped, granted a moment to prepare simply because they were farther West. The Krell had to make their way through Ehranor before they could reach the gates of Arah. But eventually Ehranor fell, and the Krell arrived in Darthin. Hopes were high that the Krell would be defeated quickly. The Darthin army was the equal of any in Auriga, and the invaders had already fought a long battle against the Ehranorin . But those hopes were dashed in less than twelve hours. The invaders reached the gates of Arah without breaking stride. The Darthins failed to protect their charge. With the defeat at the doorstep and the kingdom nearly in ruins, one man turned to forbidden magic. The king's own personal advisor in the matters of the arcane took it upon himself to destroy the invaders, no matter the cost. Unrolling one of the Lost Scrolls, kept inside a warded vault deep within the catacombs below Arah, he spoke the words of a litany that spelled the end of The Kingdom of Darthin forever. There are few who survived that day, now known as the Black Day. While the Krell were never allowed to step foot in Arah, few count what the king’s advisor did on that day as a victory. The resulting explosion felled the invading army where it stood, but so too did it kill all the people of the land. The beautiful city of Arah was consumed. What’s left now lies in a pile of ruins, blackened by the magic and years of neglect. All that remains in the wreckage of Darthin are the wandering dead—those souls unable to rest in the shadow of this great disaster. The Land of Darthin is one of death, the magic that had consumed all was not indiscriminate in its wrath. All life was culled from the land, from the largest beast to the smallest insect. The land was left black, with everything dead. It now sits as a land partially reclaimed, where nature tries to work its stranglehold back in but the magic of the spell still fluctuates killing swaths of creatures not strong enough to resist it. Forest sits bare for miles at a time to only have a small area flourished with life. The lands shift and split and move, with all grass and life pulled from the rich hills and fields turned to dust storms and sinking pits.
Towns once vibrant and bustling sit under soot and dirt. But the real dangers of Darthin come from its people, for the magic that took all life from them failed to keep them from walking still. Whole towns of undead roam and move above, in hordes seeking any life yet to remain. Shifting winds of magic pull the essence of life from those caught in it. Beast of the night and could machinations of those looking for a place to hide unwatched from the world all lurk in the skeleton of Darthin.
Type
Wasteland
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