Eora

The world of Eora is a carnival of deceit attended by a frightened lynch mob.   Incessant politicking and religious strife plague the lands while the true darkness that pervades its woods goes unchecked, unchallenged.
All the while petty Princes and despotic Dukes cling to what little land remains.   The realm of Albion is the bastard child of the Continent on which the expansive Empire's borders once rested.
Before the sky split open, and the Comet befell this world. Before the Flood.
What remains is the Alvus Sea, bitterly named after the last Emperor whose fertile plains were drowned in saltwater. To its West lies Skargos, another miscreation. Both were once the frontiers of the Empire, defined by mountain ranges and inhabited by hardy people. No one knows what happened to the men of the Western Empire - only Albion remains.  

The deacon raised his head toward the sky. His face soaked the warmth up eagerly, for it was nearly Winter. Luminor no longer graced the world with his heat, so they had to make their own. The deacon turned his gaze back to the pyre, the screams emitting from it a symphony, a prayer dedicated to the Creator.

  The Comet was the punishment of Luminor, the Creator. His light still blesses the world every day, a testimony that the sins of the past were paid.
The Church of Illumination does not sit idly however, and its inquisition ravages the land, looking for unholy creatures and dastardly mages that invite Luminor's wrath.
  Adventurers and grave robbers, knights and rogues; all travel the world's dense forests, scorched deserts and damp caverns in search of lost treasure.
Eora's history is short, and much remains to be written.