Ancorran
Beyond the northern borders of the kingdom of Drin, on the continent of Oerth, lies a vast wasteland terrain known as the Outer Night. These desolate, windswept mountains, highlands, tundra, forests, and glaciers were once part of the kingdom of Ancorran, and the Rime Realm until the great dissapearance of the second age.
Ancorran lies at the very borders of the world within the wasteland of snow that acts as the ceiling of the continent. No one knows what lies beyond these vast stretches of glacial ice, and tundra for the monicker of 'Outer Night' was bestowed to this land in acknowledgement of those vast leagues in the utter north where the sun does not rise, and it grows so dark, and so cold that it's said even time is frozen there.
The Lost Realm
Ancorran was once a mighty kingdom, and civilization in the north. One that rivalled even the kingdom of Drin in majesty, and power. But in the year 1000AR, the realm 'vanished' without a trace. There were no signs or omens to predict this mysterious dissapearance. No storms, nor earthquakes, nor eclipses. Without precident, the people of Ancorran simply dissappeared, and left no record, nor sign of what befell them. The first expeditions to the region after the fall record no indication of war, or plague. The kingdom was simply 'lost' and the Rime Realm was no more. Having occured in the formative years of the second era, much of the culture and history of Ancorran was lost along with its people, as few records remain of what the Rime Realm once valued. If only this were the only mystery of Ancorran, but since that day, the lands of the Rime Realm have become an accursed place filled with mist, and monsters unlike any other region of the world. The dissapearances have also continued even to the current day. People simply go missing in the Outer Night, as if called into the snowy terrain by some siren voice. They have been observed awakening in the late hours of the morning, and wordlessly venturing off as if under a charm, never to be seen again.
The Outpost at the End of the World
On the hinterland that borders Ancorran, and the Iron Realm of Drin lies the outpost known as Bhara'Dur, sometimes known as the Fortress at the End of the World. It is maintained by a small holding of Iron Legionaires who spend only a few short months here during their careers. Shipments of supplies, and fresh soldiers arrive at this fortress only once every two months alongside the Exiles which have chosen the Outer Night as their sentence. The outpost serves as the last point of civilization before reaching the snowy wilderness of Ancorran. While the remnants of ancient cities lie buried in the snow to the north, and perhaps there may exist small conclaves of sentient creatures, but once you have tread beyond the gates of Bhara'Dur, the world of Orr is left behind, and all that lies ahead is a barren, and frozen waste filled with a ruins of a kingdom lost. There exists an ancient treaty in the world of Orr called the Writ of Exile. This writ allows prisoners condemned to death, and lifetimes of imprisonment to forswear their execution, and instead be brought in chains to the outpost at the edge of the world. Here they are given only a few days supplies, and rudimentary tools to assist in their survival, before being lead into the lands of Ancorran by rangers of the outpost, and left to fend for themselves. To partake in this exile, they must agree to be bound by rune-magic to the plane (in the form of unremovable tattoos), and to never return to the continent lest they succeed in the quest which bore the Writ when it was agreed.
The Writ was made between the realms in the year 1078AR. Long ago, in the century following the great dissapearance of the Rime Realm, one traveling merchant of Ancorran who was away from his kingdom during that mysterious passage, returned home to find his village, and his family among those that had vanished. Be searched as far, and as wide as he could to locate his loved ones, his friends, and his people; But never found even the faintest trace of them or their passage through the lands. He did, however, encounter monsters and beasts the like of which he had never known to dwell among the Rime Realm, and brought back to the lands of Drin many mysterious objects, artifacts, and materials which were unaccounted for. With these discoveries he helped build Bhara'Dur, and spent all that remained of his wealth hiring mercenaries to travel into the Rime Realm and continue his hopeless quest. In a rare act of empathy, King Drin himself took pity upon this poor soul and delivered missives to the lands of Iskandar, and Dalair to create the Writ of Exile in hopes that one day, some evidence, or clue may arrise to explain the mysterious dissapearances of the realm.Any prisoner who undertakes the Writ may be freed of their bondage, and have their sins absconded should they venture into the frozen wastes and return with proof of what became of the lost kingdom of Ancorran.
Terrain & Features
Those who choose to become Exiles of this land are brought to the outpost of Bhara'Dur and given only a few days supplies, and materials to survive in the harsh, and unforgiving wastes. They are allowed only to return to the outpost in order to sell, and trade with the legionaires of Bhara'Dur any artifacts, or treasure that they have discovered among the lost ruins and abandoned cities of the Rime Realm. Should they return with enough historic relics, they may be pardoned of their crimes, and allowed to return to the continent. Though it is frowned upon, should a prisoner's family or friends choose to join them in exile, they are allowed to follow their loved one into the wastes; but they too are given only a meager measure of supplies to subsist upon. Thus far in the history of Orr, no Exile has ever managed to return and buy their freedom. Many simply go missing, and are never heard from again, while most are simply reported dead by their companions or by the nomads that travel after them. The number of individuals whom have undertaken the Writ has slowly dwindled in the centuries since it was written. Many prisoners simply prefer the headsman's axe, or the noose, to the fate of starving to death among the lonesome glaciers of Ancorran or being ripped to shreds by monsters in the terrible fog.
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