Monument

Cold. Dark. Alone.   Little is known of Monument in the current age. Lesser still is the knowledge of what it was before it became Monument. To those that live and die beneath its skies, this world has always been one of light; there was no before.   A near limitless expanse of ice and snow stretch into the far north, beyond a vast, empty ocean. So distant are these shores that no living eyes have been laid upon them for hundreds of years.   Sand and dust lay still upon an eternally sun-scorched plain, rolling into the southern horizon and never faltering. Few of the Yorden trekked through these lands to reach sanctuary, and fewer still lived to see their journey's end.   In the east lies the ruins of Leith, seat of the Old Empire. Overtaken by a nebulous mist, the humans of Leith had little choice but flee west. With their ships battered against the raking stones of the Stranded Sea, and their sails ripped away by howling gales, it is little wonder the Lithians ever found respite.   Beneath the waves of the Stranded Sea, the old shadowed land of Weirr slumbers. Whether by their own hands or forces unknown, the Weirr dragged their home beneath the cold waters, long after their own demise had taken place.   Betwixt it all, the lands of Yordenheid, Caelith, and Braagh stand against eachother, and against themselves. Knight against knight, clan against clan, king against king, nation against nation. Too caught up in acts of reprisal, their world has gone blind to the true dangers lurking outside, within, and beneath.