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| Age of Conan - World |
| Aquilonia |
| Aquilonia is nestled east of the savage Pictish Wilderness, west of militant Nemedia, north of cutthroat Zingara, and south of the Cimmerian tundra. It has pleasant weather and rich, arable farmable lands interwoven and fed by some of the largest rivers in the world. Game hunting is common and plentiful, and wilderness paths and civilized roads are patrolled by Aquilonian forces. At first glance, it is a peaceful kingdom of plenty built on a very pleasant stretch of Hyborian land. Alas, it cannot be so. Although the barbarian King Conan of Cimmeria has taken great lengths to keep his kingdom safe from outside threats and domestic squabbles, Aquilonia sees its share of unrest. Aquilonia has become a kaleidoscope of intrigue and hand-on-hilt politics. There are many peoples who call this land home, carving several invisible borders within the kingdom itself. Bossonians, Poitanians, Gundermen, and others lay claim to lands that now all exist under King Conan's rule. The barbarian king rules from his throne in the capitol city of Tarantia, delegating his laws and edicts down through the cascade of titled and landed nobles. The city is a massive, walled urban sprawl, its blue and golden towers reaching high into the sky. A kingdom's worth of people from all corners of the world call Tarantia home, protected in part by its high walls and its elite Black Legion army, the capitol's military force. Many travel long distances to come to this place, the "Heart of Aquilonia", trying to claim part of its dazzling wealth and power for themselves. Aquilonia's countryside is divided into countless noble estates and segmented villages that are ruled by individual noble patriarchs, all of whom are supposed to owe allegiance to the king. Many do, but just as many-some might argue more-are disgusted by a Cimmerian king and pay homage to the crown and banner in deed only, wishing great ill upon him. It is there, in their hollow hearts, that much of the kingdom's unrest is schemed. Perhaps if it were not for the eternal squabbling and backstabbing amongst the nobles, Aquilonia would have strength enough to be an unyielding bastion against its many outside threats. Although deadly when swept into them, Aquilonia's politics are not the only risk on its rolling landscape. There are many dangers, even with the increased patrols and hired huntsmen, which threaten travelers here. Constant harassment comes from Nemedian mercenaries, Pictish tribes, and mysterious servants of ancient, darker forces. These grueling and merciless minions seem bent on shattering what peace can be found in the kingdom. It is dangerous to travel too far from guarded lands, and many nobles keep hired guards-not much more than mercenaries themselves-to protect their personal estates. To make matters more difficult, as if the relentless two-legged threats are not bad enough, the hunters can only do so much to keep the wolves, great cats and larger predators from moving against small families and lone travelers. Even with such dangers, Aquilonia is one of the jewels of Hyboria. It is a temperate land of noble and proud people, with a lightly-obscured storm brewing beneath the surface of its grassy hills and ox-plowed wheat fields. Some day, sooner than King Conan can know, the silken curtains of Aquilonia will be ripped down and it will find itself at the mercy of its own devices. |
Broken Leg Glen |
| Typical for Cimmeria, Broken Leg Glen is a deep valley surrounded by steep mountains and cut by a cold river running through its center. Positioned between the controversial Venarium and the battle-torn Conall's Valley, it has its share of travelers simply "passing through" to reach other parts of Cimmeria beckoning to their sense of adventure. Some may come just to see the stretch of land that gave birth to King Conan himself, and the rest of Clan Conarch. . For those who choose or are chosen to stay in the Glen, they are likely to have adventure thrown upon them. The rocky soil and frequent rains and snows, depending on the season, make agriculture a difficult endeavor that many families simply do not have the resources to maintain. Even so, there is a life to be carved from the Broken Leg Glen, and many do. There is a rather large village, at least by Cimmerian standards, that is home to many. It is arguably the most civilized settlement in the nation, and is home to a number of families. A large waterwheel-driven grain mill grinds out flour and mash for the Glen's families to use, powered by the cold water that rushes down the river from the mountaintops. Game animals are plentiful and hunting is a household practice. Some families have taken to raising livestock, keeping them in small numbers to avoid attracting the numerous predators that stalk the forests. Bears and wolves are a constant threat to lone travelers. These mighty hunters have been responsible for the deaths or disappearances of livestock, children, and even full grown villagers. The beasts of Broken Leg Glen are hardly the only threats, however. With the red-haired Vanir moving in on nearby territories from the frozen north every week, there have already been "Vanir sightings" in the Glen. Some dismiss these as rumor; others are already sharpening their axes and tightening their armor straps down for an impending battle. Some wonder that they may be coming for simple conquest; others believe they are after the renowned blue iron ore that is used to make the fabled Cimmerian Blue Steel. The mysterious and powerful metal would be a boon to an invading force to be sure, if they could also steal the secrets to forge it. The invasion is not the only thing that keeps Broken Leg Glen at arms. There are darker rumors too; whispers of a deeper evil from the area's past that has crept out of their nightmares. Likely it is nothing more than old fears, but those who remember are not taking any chances. |
Cimmeria |
| The Nation of Cimmeria A hard region of tundra, mountains and wooded fields seated beneath a cold, gray sky are the lands of Cimmeria. It is surrounded by those who would aim to either kill or conquer the native barbarian clans that have thrived here since the time of the Atlanteans. The hard terrain is often softened with blood-churned mud of Pictish invaders, Vanir raiders, Hyperborean Gurnakhi, or foolish would-be conquerors from the Border Kingdoms. But no one man could possibly claim these unconquerable people-or the lands in which they struggle daily to survive. Cimmeria is a harsh place of clan wars and tightly-knit families, where strength and cunning are key to survival. It is a land filled with dangerous people and predators, where much of the life that can be found in its frozen hills only lives to take life from another. Wolves, mountain cats and fierce bears hunt the frozen ranges and thick woods, more than capable of killing entire hunting parties unprepared for their savagery. Stories of monstrous beasts and dark legends waiting in the icy wastes for foolish travelers are told around crackling campfires, many of which have been proven true time and time again. In Cimmeria, if the weather and the terrain do not claim you, something else likely will. Only the strong will carve out a living here, often quite literally. The terrain is difficult, but many come to see for themselves. The Eiglophian Mountains tempt adventurers into their frozen heights to test their mettle against bloodthirsty cannibals and fabled creatures of legend. The "Field of Chiefs" and its Standing Stone, where the clans can come to speak of peaceful alliances, fearless of treachery, is a living piece of history. There is little question as to why foreigners who believe themselves strong of arm and swift of blade come to Cimmeria. It is the land that spawned the great and famous Conan, whose travels and adventures have been the road map of legendry for all of Hyboria. Many of his exploits echo across his homeland, beckoning others of the clans to mimic his life of danger and excitement. In a way, it was this land's harshness that tempered Conan as much as the drive of the man himself. Cimmeria, the land of Crom, may not be peaceful, pleasant, or easily survived, but it makes a tough people even tougher and sends the foolish to an early grave. It is a difficult place that lays low the weak and heralds the strong. There is a saying amongst the clans of the southern border-"Make peace with your gods before you come to Cimmeria, as it will not be found here." |
Conall's Valley |
| In Cimmeria's icy east, the ravine of Conall?s Valley cuts a shallow slice in the stone and soil flesh of Hyboria. Here, in the shadow of Ben Morgh -- Crom's mountain throne -- his people make a valiant and desperate last stand against invaders from the north.
In times past the region was known for its wild beauty and was home to several Cimmerian clans; each tribe founding their settlements among the many ancient Atlantean ruins that the lush northern forests have never completely concealed. Then came the Vanir. Now the woodland pass is littered with the ashen remnants of villages burned to the ground, and where Cimmerian forts once rose among the trees, Vanir spears are plunged into the earth, bearing the severed heads and rotting bodies of the valley's slain defenders. When the Vanir swept down from the north, they came not to raid, but to conquer. The Cimmerian warriors who fought for their homeland were slain; their families enslaved or slaughtered while villages burned. The few survivors were mainly outcasts, hunters and warriors who managed to flee south and escape the blades of the Vanir. The once-beautiful Conall's Valley has become a battleground; its beauty spoiled by savagery and bloodshed as the Vanir and Cimmerians fight over the ruins of destroyed villages. If the woodland pass falls completely, the way into Cimmeria will be laid open to the berserkers of Vanaheim. The survivors of the northerners' assaults gather around their night-fires in makeshift settlements and sharpen their swords, vowing to sell their lives dearly in the name of their homeland. All the while, these last Cimmerians cast looks at the distant tower of Ben Morgh. Their distant and cruel god watches from that mountain peak, and the warriors know that dying while Crom himself looks on would be a shameful death indeed. |
Eiglophian Mountains |
| The towering Eiglophian Mountains mark the northern border of Cimmeria. Beyond their peaks to the northwest are the lands of the Vanir invaders; to the northeast are the folk of the Aesir, who are infrequent allies or foes of the Cimmerians. Her maddening laughter floated back to him, and foam flew from the barbarian’s lips. Further and further into the wastes she led him. The land changed; the wide plains gave way to low hills, marching upwards in broken ranges. Far to the north he caught a glimpse of towering mountains, blue with the distance, or white with the eternal snows. Above these mountains shone the flaring rays of the borealis. They spread fan-wise into the sky, frosty blades of cold flaming light, changing in color, growing and brightening. —The Frost Giant’s Daughter, Robert E. Howard. The towering Eiglophian Mountains mark the northern border of Cimmeria. Beyond their peaks to the northwest are the lands of the Vanir invaders; to the northeast are the folk of the Aesir, who are infrequent allies or foes of the Cimmerians. There are few passes through the mountains, so most hostilities are limited to raids and pillaging—or so many believed, before the Vanir marched an army of warriors into Cimmeria. Passage through the mountains is difficult and dangerous, even for seasoned travelers. Apart from trappers and scouts, few men dwell in these mountains. To survive in the Eiglophians, one must be possessed of incredible willpower, physical strength, and great courage. The howling winds and biting cold gnaw at both body and soul; the leopards and ice worms weed out the weak, and treacherous paths and sheer cliffs kill the unwary. What human life does cling to existence here is divided between scattered Cimmerian clans and the savages of the flesh-eating tribes that have bedeviled hunters and trappers for decades now. These murderous cannibals raid nearby Cimmerian villages, not for conquest, but to capture people who are fated to be eaten in the deep, dark caves that the flesh-eaters claim as their territory. The range itself is a holy place to the Cimmerians. In the eastern spur of the Eiglophians, there stands Ben Morgh, known to outlanders as Mount Crom. Here, it is said, Crom dwells, sending out death and doom to those who have failed him. His anger shakes the peaks in the form of thunderstorm and avalanches—and Crom is wrathful of late, as invaders from Hyperborea, Vanaheim, and the Border Kingdom trespass ever deeper into Cimmeria. |
Field of the Dead |
| The sacred burial ground of Cimmerian chieftains for centuries, the Field of the Dead lies at the eastern end of Conall’s Valley in the northern part of Cimmeria. Situated at the very foot of Ben Morgh, the towering mountain where Crom himself is said to dwell, the Field of the Dead bears a close resemblance to Cimmerian descriptions of the afterlife. It is a rocky, windswept land, full of cold mists and pitiless rain. Dark heather grows on the stony hillsides and the burial mounds of old chieftains, and the howls of wolves echo plaintively from the depths of the twisting valleys. It is a bleak, haunting place, grim and cheerless as a Cimmerian’s soul. Each clan lays claim to a specific part of the Field of the Dead, interring their leaders in mounds shaped of earth and stone. The chieftain’s final resting place is surrounded by armor and weapons, fine clothes, trophies and treasure, so that he will enter the realm of the dead with all the wealth that befits a great leader. Tales of such treasure sometimes lure raiders and treasure-seekers onto the burial fields, despite the terrible risks. Even if these would-be looters manage to avoid the watchful eye of Cimmerian patrols, they must still face the wrath of the spirits themselves. Many who venture into the depths of the burial mounds never see the light of day again. This terrible drama is now being played out on a grand scale as a large force of Vanir warriors have invaded the sacred burial grounds. They are pillaging the grave mounds of ancient chieftains and plundering them of arcane relics, caring nothing for the warriors interred within. Bodies have been dumped onto the dank earth, or defiled by Vanir knives. Now the specters of angry chieftains haunt the Field of the Dead, seeking to avenge themselves against those who wronged them—or upon any living soul unfortunate enough to cross their path. Worse still, Cimmerians struggling to turn back the Vanir raiders have heard terrible howls in the darkness, and some claim to have seen werewolves stalking the mist-shrouded valleys. It is feared that the Vanir have unleashed an ancient curse locked up in one of the older burial mounds, and for the moment the Cimmerians are powerless to stop it. |
Khemi |
| Sitting on the south shore of the River Styx joining with the Western Sea, Khemi is a stark vision of black walls and looming citadels. It is the priestly capitol of Stygia, making it essentially the most powerful city in the entire nation. It is a major seaport for the serpent kingdom, but keeps only a sparse navy in its docks. Few would ever try to war with Stygia from the sea, as their connection with the dark god Set is paramount and fear-inspiring. Even those who question faith think twice about crossing the priesthood. Khemi is scattered with castle-like estates of the Stygian nobility, some standing proudly while others have been allowed to wither away into ruin. Above all the citadels, the walls, and the towering castles is a gigantic black pyramid?the resting place of the very coils of Set himself, or so they say. There is a great deal to back up such superstitious claims, as serpents of many breeds and sizes slither through the city streets freely. In fact, these beasts are protected by Stygian law, and even those attacked by the creatures are expected not to fight back. At night, the scaled swarms grow aggressive, and the very shadows of Khemi writhe with reptilian life and the echoing cries of death. The city itself is barred from ocean travelers by the rocky island port of Akhet, or Tortoise Island. It is used as a barrier to the rest of the city proper, buffering infidel foreigners from the ?holy city? proper. Always buzzing with visiting travelers, traders and merchants from all over, Akhet is the closest that many foreigners ever get to Khemi itself. Even inside the city there are areas that are not commonly traveled. Stygia is a land of social castes, setting a pecking order that can be as deadly as the natural selections of the desert hyenas. Areas like the Horn are dominated and populated by the priesthood, who are the sole keepers of the monuments, temples and gardens found there. The holiest of Set?s children worship here, and disallow those not of the faith to walk amidst the sacred buildings. There is also the Odji district, where slaves are bought and sold and the light of day seems unwilling to fight the darkness of alleyways and awning-covered streets. Odji is deadly and dangerous, even for those who did not arrive there in chains or a cage. It is close to the harbor, and only a select few merchant traders are ever allowed to come here. There is a fortune to be made or lost, depending on what end of the life-trade someone finds themselves. Khemi is a massive reminder that the dark god Set truly rules Stygia through the ironclad coils of his powerful clergy. Those who come here, especially those who manage to get beyond Akhet, will find all the pleasures, terrors, and adventures of Stygia lurking in the shadows of Set?s city. |
Khopshef Province |
| The Hyborian deserts contain secrets older than mankind itself. Nowhere is this more evident than in night-haunted Stygia, home to sorcerer-priests who worship the great serpent god Set.
Its cities rise like dusky jewels from the fertile lands on southern banks of the dark river Styx, where slaves are sacrificed every day to slake the hunger of the Great Serpent. Scholars pore through crumbling texts for hints of lost knowledge that lie hidden among the trackless sands. For in Stygia, dark knowledge is the path to true power. East of the coastal city of Khemi, Khopshef Province boasts no great cities - only fabled ruins recounted in ancient legends and caravan tales. Newcomers arriving in the province at the small village of Bubshur hear stories of a great and ancient pyramid that lies along a tributary of the Styx some distance to the south. Of late, an enigmatic oracle of the Shemite goddess Derketo has braved the haunted lands around the pyramidal tomb and laid claim to a temple structure adjoining the ancient pyramid, where his worshipful followers serve his every whim. What the arrival of this oracle portends and why he chose to settle so close to the mysterious crypt, no one knows. And local fishermen who risk the crocodile-infested waters of the river Styx speak of the bleak island west of Pashtun and the strange ruins located there, said to be a temple dedicated to gods that were old when Atlantis still rode above the waves. Meanwhile, the people of Khopshef Province pray to their gods and try to go about their lives, mining salt from the flats around the village of Hep-Kab or welcoming the caravans traveling from Medjool Oasis to the south. They keep out of the punishing sunlight at midday and ward their houses against the evils of the night. But all is not well among the people of the region. The island town of Pashtun, an independent village claimed by neither Stygia nor Shem, has become the hunting ground for a fearsome monster that stalks its citizens each night. Each morning the bloodless corpses of its victims can be found lying along the village's dusty streets, or empty boats are found drifting in the river's sluggish current. The village leaders have turned to the oracle, seeking an explanation for the deadly rampage, but he answers them only in riddles. Now, each evening, as the red sun stains the western sky, the people of Khopshef Province glance furtively downriver and await a hero who will stand between them and the horrors that lurk in the darkness. |
Old Tarantia |
| Called the "most princely city of the world's West" by chroniclers far and wide, Tarantia is a sprawling city of wonders and the capitol of Aquilonia. Its skyline is dotted with towers of blue and gold, and many of its buildings are clean and dazzling to behold. Created in layers, like rumpled cloth against the cliffs of the Khorotas River, Tarantia has several distinctive areas separated by walls and tiers both physical and societal. Possibly the most famous of these sections, unsurprisingly, is Old Tarantia. Old Tarantia sits at the end of a huge bridge that leads to the rest of the bustling city, divided elsewhere by high walls and guarded gates. It uses its own docks and has a massive gate sitting on the Road of Kings. All are patrolled regularly, and watched for dangerous visitors. It is the root of the city itself, where the rest of the capitol grew outward from, and is the base of the royal palace of King Conan himself. The shining towers of the palace rise high into the sky, overlooking the rest of the city and, some might say, the rest of Aquilonia. Old Tarantia is not an example of your typical Hyborian city by any means. The streets are clean and devoid of miscreants, the businesses do their best not to charge too high of prices for their wares, and common crime is veritably non-existent. The elite bodyguard unit of the King, the Black Dragons, patrols the palace grounds constantly and can even be found outside its walls from time to time. Few are foolhardy enough to deal with these strapping soldiers, making most criminals look elsewhere to ply their illegal trades. It is a safe city for those who abide by King Conan's laws, and where many come to shop and see the beautiful city with their own eyes. There is far more going on beneath the shining surface of Old Tarantia than simply the rise of admiration and awe. Just because it isn't crawling with muggers and pickpockets on the streets doesn't mean that the city is without a darker element. Nobles that are not pleased with a Cimmerian on the throne are constantly scheming and pushing pieces around their political chessboard, some willing to sacrifice many pawns to get closer to their way. King Conan made many enemies in his winding road to power. Some died at his hands, but many escaped the edge of his sword. With King Conan on the throne, the brilliant beacon of civilization that Old Tarantia is might just attract these enemies like vultures to a corpse. |
Stygia |
| The Theocracy of Stygia The desert kingdom of Stygia, possibly the most infamous nation in the Hyborian mainland, is the birthplace, home, and wellspring of the Priesthood of Set?serpent god of darkness. The entire kingdom is ruled by the clergy, with the closest devotee or disciple of Set having the single most influential hand throughout the Stygian territory. From the coast of the Western Sea to the shores of the River Styx, the power of Set?s snake-worshipping acolytes is supreme. Although bordered by the dark-skinned Kushites, the cannibal Darfari to the south, and to the north by the influential merchant-traders of Shem-Stygia does not show fear of its neighbors. So ironclad is their belief in Set that they look upon all outsiders as infidel lower creatures who have not yet discovered the truth in Set's darkness. Outsiders are less than they are, and only a shackle's clasp away from being a slave. As with any desert land, Stygia is a dry and desolate place that has claimed many unprepared travelers who have gone into the desert without enough food or water. Culled from this world by scorpions, serpents, raiders and the very sand itself, few survive without native assistance-which is difficult to receive, as few trust or are allowed to give aid to those not of Stygian blood. Where this discrimination can be detrimental to trade and commerce elsewhere, it is simply noted as fact here. As far as the theocracy and aristocracy of Stygia is concerned, they do not need the outsiders' trade. Why do these outsiders continue to brave this prejudice and risk choking on sand or the thrust of an assassin's blade? Stygia is a rich land filled with treasure hidden away in tombs and catacombs all across its expanse, much of which lies in wait for a brave soul willing to risk the dark god's eye by robbing graves and unearthing secrets. It is well known across all of Hyboria that magic is strong in Stygia, with promises of sorcery and witchcraft calling scholars and dabbling would-be warlocks from the far reaches-if only to discover a single spell or ritual under the sand and stone. A dark shadow has been cast across Stygia for centuries, taking many shapes as time progresses. Rulers, warlords, beasts and demons have risen up between the dunes to make Stygia their rightful home. While the faithful control and master where the walls built by slaves will keep the wilderness at bay, there are countless stretching miles of sandy wastes that give Stygia a thousand and one places to hide treachery, death, and-for the bravest of souls-adventure! |
Tortage |
| Off the coast of Hyboria, on one of the largest of the volcanic Barachan Isles in the Western Sea, lies a haven of smugglers, thieves, and pirates called Tortage.
Off the coast of Hyboria, on one of the largest of the volcanic Baracha Isles in the Western Sea, lies a haven of smugglers, thieves, and pirates called Tortage. Carved out of the black and rocky cliffs of the island of the same name, the city of Tortage is the single most infamous port off the mainland of Hyboria. Although founded originally by Argossean sailors, its constant flow of miscreants, slaves and vagabonds has seen it teeming with all cultures for generations. Kushites, Aquilonians and even Cimmerians live side by side with Zingarans, Shemites and even Stygians on its dark and sinister streets - even a number of wayward Picts have rowed south to call Tortage home. If it is illegal somewhere else, it is probably obtainable within Tortage's inns, taverns and manors. Most of the city itself has been in turmoil for quite a while, a rebellious uprising forming against the ruthless oppressor currently in power. This rebellion has become so worrisome to the ruler and his sinister allies that only those proven loyal to the overlord of Tortage are allowed free passage off the island. His law is that of the sword, and he is capable of anything that will bring him closer to crushing those who oppose him. Such a boon can be a powerful bargaining tool when dealing with slavers and smugglers, whose loyalty can often be bought quickly when the need arises. Much of Tortage Island is dense and humid jungle, with dangers lurking along shadowy paths cut back daily by adventurous travelers, and brave explorers. The island is dominated by a large volcano and it is sometimes the cause of nervousness to those who are new to the area, but most of the natives and long time residents believe it is nothing to fear. A host of sharp-clawed beasts await the unwary explorer. The heated cries of apes and even the blood-curdling shrieks of Picts can be heard echoing into the night along with the screams of their victims. Wandering the streets of Tortage alone is far from the safest practice either. A home for predators of a different variety, in the form of swift-bladed pirates and lurking bandits, the weak or unprepared do not last long in the pirate port. While the swarthy inhabitants have cut open more than a few throats, many more thrive on the slaving industry that flows in and out of Tortage like the tide. Just as many lives are bought and sold here as are ended, sometimes for a pittance. With pirate factions like the Red Brotherhood, Zingaran Freebooters, and Black Corsairs agreeing to leave their battles in the sea while in port, there is no lack of tension on the streets and docks of Tortage. It is not far from the mainland by ship, but the way is not an easy one. The factions are always lurking to prey upon loot-filled vessels they can get to before their rivals. Between pirate threats, swirling maelstroms that can crush a ship like pottery, and the forbiddance of passage off the island, a future here seems bleak. Once Tortage has claimed you, your freedom depends on cunning, strength of will, and what allies you choose. Or, it can be your grave. |
Wild Lands of Zelata |
| Nestled in a valley and sheltered from the harsh winters of the region, the Wild Lands exemplify Aquilonia’s untamed eastern frontier. It is a place for people with the desire to start afresh. ‘The going grew rougher, the scenery more rugged, steep grassy slopes pitching up to densely timbered mountainsides. Without a word she led the way, the great wolf trotting at her side, the eagle soaring above her. Through deep thickets and along tortuous ledges poised over deep ravines she led him, and finally along a narrow precipice-edged path to a curious dwelling of stone, half hut, half cavern, beneath a cliff hidden among the gorges and crags. The eagle flew to the pinnacle of this cliff, and perched there like a motionless sentinel.’ –– The Hour of the Dragon, Robert E. Howard Nestled in a valley and sheltered from the harsh winters of the region, the Wild Lands exemplify Aquilonia’s untamed eastern frontier. It is a place for people with the desire to start afresh, to begin anew—to establish a life away from the bustling metropolis of Tarantia or any of Aquilonia’s other majestic, chaotic cities. Settlements are built, spreading slowly in the wilderness, protected by hunters and occasional patrols of soldiers who fend off both the wild beasts of the northern forests and the bandit groups which plague so much of Hyboria. Another source of conflict arises from the Nemedian border to the east; the location of the Wild Lands makes them an infrequent battleground for clashes between King Conan’s men and the soldiers from Aquilonia’s rival nation. In recent months, the Wild Lands have fallen under the shadow of a new threat—one which spells the death of Aquilonian settlement in the region if the danger is not quashed. Creatures known locally as the Dark Beasts prowl the wilderness beyond the edges of each settlement, slaughtering those who walk the wilds. Some villages have already fallen prey to mass attacks from these feral, razor-clawed creatures. The small hamlet of Tesso now shields a growing refugee population, drawing survivors from the villages shattered in the wake of the Dark Beasts and their hunts. Zelata, a witch who once counseled King Conan himself, lives in the Wild Lands away from civilization. She is a mysterious figure to the people of the region, unknown to many and mistrusted by the few that are aware of her existence. Her powers set her apart from others and vilify her in the minds of those who need a scapegoat for the region’s troubles. Now, as Nemedian soldiers press south and as the Dark Beasts slaughter whole villages, the ostracized witch-woman finds herself hated by many who believer her responsible for the problems they face. |
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