Ebon

Behoff's Lair

Behoff’s Lair is buried beneath the gutted bones of Hen Livon’s central processing sector, accessible only to nobles through sealed underground tramlines. It’s a concrete warren, windowless, reeking of antiseptic and iron. Each chamber is designed for a different act of degradation: flaying racks, rape pits, vivisection slabs, breeding contests. Bodies are strung from hooks like meat, tagged by number and function. There is no noise—victims are silenced by custom. Surveillance is constant, for pleasure and documentation. Visitors wear white to avoid stains, then step into slaughter rooms to work. Incinerators line the far corridors. Walls are reinforced with stitched flesh. Nothing is wasted. The lair processes the rejects: malformed breeders, failed children, spent whores. They are recycled as entertainment or study. No records are kept. The entrance is guarded by sculptures of screaming infants carved from bone. No one enters by mistake. No one leaves without taking something.

Black Crown Palace Complex

The heart of imperial power, the Black Crown Palace dominates Lothren’s center with its towering spires of pale elven stone, repurposed into a monument to tyranny. Beneath its gilded halls lies a labyrinth of obsidian-lined tunnels, clandestine arteries linking Lothren to distant cities, enabling covert troop movements and black-market trade. The palace hosts grand cannibal feasts during state ceremonies, where nobles and commoners alike are compelled to consume “traitor flesh” as proof of loyalty. Advisors and Inquisitors scheme in shadowed chambers, drafting edicts that cascade into genocides. Here, the Emperor’s decrees are carved into living flesh—rebels are flayed in the Sunless Court, their skins parchment for new laws. The complex embodies the Empire’s duality: ethereal beauty masking a necrotic core, where every corridor thrums with whispered conspiracies and the echoes of extinct elven magic.

Bone Warrens

Deep in the Chains’ underbelly, the Bone Warrens are a maze of rusted cages and makeshift workshops where the Black Graft rule. These slaves, deemed useless by breeding farms, are butchered and fused with scrap—bone splintered, metal grafted—to become living tools of the Empire’s war machine. Every missing limb, every jagged scar tells a story of survival forced through pain and modification. This is a factory of broken bodies, controlled by Black Graft overseers who trade humanity for efficiency. The dead are stripped to nothing; their parts recycled into weapons or slaves anew.

Breeding Pasture

In the heart of Mercyland lies a grim breeding pasture, a stark reminder of the empire's ruthless practices. Here, human females are meticulously sorted and taken to designated areas for controlled breeding, where selected males are brought forth to ensure the continuation of specific traits. Meanwhile, the males deemed unfit for breeding are sent to the adjacent meat factory. This facility operates with chilling efficiency, stripping the flesh and bones from these men, transforming them into various products that are distributed throughout the empire. The factory's output includes clothing, jewelry, and other goods, all crafted from the remains of those who once lived. The entire operation is shrouded in secrecy, with guards patrolling the perimeter to prevent any escape or rebellion. The breeding pasture is a place of cold calculation, where human lives are reduced to mere commodities, and the cycle of life and death is manipulated for profit.

Brithan

Brithan is a desolate, snowy expanse where the remnants of ancient dragonkind lie buried beneath layers of snow. Massive dragon skeletons, remnants of epic battles against hags, are scattered throughout the area, their bones picked clean by scavengers over millennia. Legends whisper of a hidden chamber within the mountains that holds the remains of Gefroi, a half-hag, half-human warrior who once commanded hag armies in their relentless war against dragons.

Doer Luen

Doer Luen is a sprawling region in the Empire of Ebon, untouched by change for 5,000 years. Once an elvish land, it now serves as a hub for the wealthy and powerful, where the slave trade and cannibalism are normalized. The area is dotted with ancient ruins and monuments to forgotten gods, remnants of a civilization long past. The political and economic systems are tightly interwoven, with each noble's land contributing to the empire's might. The beauty of the landscape contrasts sharply with the dark practices that thrive within its borders, creating a complex tapestry of history and power.

Edge

At the base of a towering mountain, this fog-laden area is a grim reminder of the fate that befalls the unwary. A long, crumbling stairway leads down into the depths, where the remains of those who fell lie scattered, their bones a testament to the treachery of the ascent. Here, the undead blackguards, cursed to serve for millennia, lurk in the shadows, their laughter echoing through the mist. They delight in tormenting the living, recounting tales of their own eternal suffering while ensuring that no one escapes their grasp. The air is thick with despair, and the chilling presence of the blackguards serves as a constant reminder of the peril that lies ahead. Adventurers must tread carefully, for the stairs are slick with moisture and littered with the remnants of past failures, and the guardians are always watching, ready to unleash their sadistic humor upon any who dare to approach.

Ferlon's Mountains

Ferlon's Mountains is a treacherous range marked by towering cliffs and deep canyons, notorious for extreme poverty and scarce food resources. Despite this, the mountains are rich in gemstones, silver, and gold, which the indigenous mountain folk have learned to exploit. The area is steeped in dark history, as the emperor forces slaves to mine these riches under brutal conditions, a legacy of Ferlon the third, who colonized the mountains and enslaved the native people. Legend has it that Ferlon possessed dragon blood, which allowed the first settlers to survive in this harsh environment, warming the mountains enough for habitation.

Forgotten Peaks

The Forgotten Peaks are a desolate mountain range, shrouded in mist and echoing with the whispers of ancient elven spirits. Ruins of once-majestic elven structures dot the landscape, now overgrown and crumbling, serving as a haunting reminder of a civilization that has faded into obscurity. Creatures that roam these mountains are subtly influenced by the remnants of old magic, exhibiting strange behaviors and abilities that hint at their forgotten heritage.

Fountain of Ebon

Once the heart of an empire, this region is now a grotesque shadow of its former self. The emperor's palace, once a symbol of power, now lies in ruins, surrounded by toxic mines and slave camps. The air is thick with pollution, making it nearly unbreathable, while the waters are tainted with industrial waste. Mutations are rampant among the inhabitants, with grotesque forms adapted to the harsh environment. The mutants, having developed a resistance to the toxins, now rule this blighted land, collaborating with the remnants of the empire to maintain the slave labor that fuels their survival. The landscape is dotted with crumbling structures, twisted metal, and the remnants of a once-thriving civilization, now overrun by nature reclaiming its territory in a grotesque manner. The cries of the enslaved echo through the air, a haunting reminder of the region's dark past and the ongoing struggle for survival in a land that has forgotten what it means to be alive.

Goremire

Goremire is a low-lying village constructed from salvaged wood and stone, exuding a thick, spiced aroma that is both inviting and unsettling due to a faint metallic tang. Surrounded by a jagged ring of sharpened stakes, the village serves as a warning against the creatures drawn by its ever-burning cookfires, with remnants of past encounters visible on the spikes.

Gueurta's Islands

Gueurta's Islands are a breathtaking archipelago steeped in ancient lore, named after Tarrin's beloved wife. The centerpiece, Tarrin's Wake, is a lush island formed from the colossal remains of Tarrin, a giant deity who fell in battle against Othil, another giant of equal stature. Over 8000 years, nature has reclaimed his body, transforming it into a vibrant ecosystem teeming with flora and fauna. The island is dotted with towering trees, vibrant flowers, and wildlife that thrive in the rich soil. Nearby lies Othil's Reach, another massive island formed from Othil's remains, its rugged cliffs and rocky shores contrasting with the verdant beauty of Tarrin's Wake. The islands are shrouded in mist, with ancient ruins hinting at the giants' epic struggle. Adventurers often seek the islands for their hidden treasures and the chance to uncover the secrets of the ancient deities that shaped this land.

Hen Livon

Five thousand years ago, this was the crown jewel of elvish splendor—a land of vast meadows, glassy lakes, and pale stone terraces bathed in eternal twilight. Now, its wild soul is gone. The great forests have been felled, replaced by rigid grids of manicured pathways and canals, their waters still as poisoned mirrors. Neatly trimmed grass carpets the earth where ancient groves once stood. Across the gentle slopes sprawl massive breeding estates, their white-walled compounds and iron fences forming a perfect, brutal order. Endless rows of human stock shuffle in silent lines, fed and bred like cattle beneath flower-lined colonnades. In the distance, processing towers rise like ivory spires, their chimneys exhaling pale smoke as they render waste into nothingness. No screams echo here. A paradise embalmed, its beauty sharpened into a blade, where life is measured, cataloged, and broken into obedient parts.

Krones Cor

Krones Cor, known as the Crown City, is a formidable dwarven settlement perched atop a rugged mountain, surrounded almost entirely by the tumultuous waters of the sea. The city is a bastion of defense against maritime threats, with its towering walls carved directly into the mountain's stone, reaching high above the peak. The architecture is a blend of natural rock and intricate dwarven craftsmanship, featuring sturdy stone buildings adorned with metalwork and runes. The environment is harsh, characterized by frequent rain, fierce winds, and relentless storms that batter the city, creating a challenging atmosphere for its inhabitants. Only the most resilient and hardy folk, including traders, craftsmen, and warriors, are drawn to Krones Cor, seeking to make a living in this rugged landscape. The city is alive with the sounds of haggling merchants, the clanging of metal, and the distant roar of the sea, creating a unique and vibrant culture amidst the stormy backdrop.

Lothren

Lothren, the main city of a resource-rich region, has stood for 8000 years, originally inhabited by elves before being overtaken by the Emperor and his empire. The city retains its stunning elven architecture, now serving the wealthiest nobles and families loyal to the Emperor. Cannibalism is a grim law here, with traitors and those bred on farms becoming meals for the elite and commoners alike. The Emperor's palace dominates the city center, surrounded by a bustling marketplace and intricate networks of tunnels connecting to other cities. Despite its beauty, Lothren is divided into stark social classes, with opulent noble houses standing in contrast to the desperate slums.

Lothren 2

Lothren, a city steeped in history, showcases stunning elven architecture that has withstood the test of time for 8000 years. Once a haven for elves, it now serves the Emperor's loyal nobles, where the grim law of cannibalism prevails, and stark social divides create a city of contrasts between opulence and desperation.

Maerr Frike

Maerr Frike is an ancient dwarven region nestled in the Ebon mountains, characterized by its vast underground tunnels and intricate cave systems. The dwarves here have a unique symbiotic relationship with the Free'e, a massive centipede-like race, which they control and domesticate for transportation and labor. The architecture reflects this bond, featuring grand halls adorned with centipede motifs and machinery remnants from a bygone era. The region is also known for its rich wildlife and the prized eggs of the Free'e, which are highly sought after in markets across the world.

Mercyland

Mercyland is a grim breeding camp nestled in the once-vibrant lands of Hen Livon, now transformed into a landscape of human livestock. Vast fields stretch under the watchful eyes of Emperor's guards, where humans are raised like cattle, grazing on the meticulously maintained pastures. A large, imposing house serves as the main office, where operations are meticulously planned and executed. Surrounding the house are cages and transport roads, facilitating the movement of the 'stock' to processing towers that loom like ivory spires, their graceful exteriors hiding the horrors within. This place, once a paradise, is now a calculated machine of life turned into resource, devoid of chaos but rich in despair.

Murkwater Swamp

The Murkwater Swamp is a vast, murky expanse nestled within a dense forest, characterized by crooked trees that twist and turn, their branches intertwining to form a natural canopy. The ground is perpetually soaked, with stagnant water pooling in various depths, interspersed with patches of resilient grass that bravely push through the surface. Scattered throughout the swamp are peculiar, sphere-shaped structures made of tightly woven swamp grass, resembling oversized beehives; these are the homes of the water goblins, who skillfully navigate their watery domain. The air is thick with humidity and the sounds of croaking frogs and buzzing insects, creating an eerie yet vibrant atmosphere. The water goblins, adept hunters and gatherers, use the swamp's natural resources to their advantage, crafting traps and ambushes among the tangled roots and murky waters, making this area both a home and a perilous hunting ground.

Murmurose Forest

The Murmurose Forest is a forest choked by a strange red fungus. It clings to the trees, thickening their leaves into heavy, leathery sheets and draining the life from their trunks. The air constantly hums with a loud, unnatural white noise—caused by wind forcing its way through the swollen foliage—drowning out footsteps, voices, even birdsong. It feels like walking while half-deaf, with the sound pressing in from every side. A species of red-furred monkey lives here, the only creature seemingly at ease. Its oversized ears help it pick out movement and sound through the noise, making it a master of ambush and escape. Scattered throughout the forest are tall, pale stone spires jutting from the earth. They don’t match the surrounding rock. Some lean at odd angles, others stand perfectly upright in loose, even patterns—as if they were placed there long ago, for reasons no one remembers.

New Area

New Area

New Area 2

Othil's Wake

Othil's Wake is a colossal mountain range formed from the remains of the fallen giant deity Othil, whose rugged cliffs and rocky shores stand in stark contrast to the lush, verdant beauty of the nearby Tarrin's Wake. Over 8000 years, nature has reclaimed the giants' bodies, creating a landscape shrouded in mist and mystery. Ancient ruins dot the area, remnants of the titanic struggle between Othil and his rival Tarrin, whose own body formed the fertile islands of Tarrin's Wake. Adventurers are drawn to this hauntingly beautiful region, seeking hidden treasures and the secrets of the ancient deities that shaped the land. The air is thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, while the echoes of the past whisper through the valleys, inviting exploration and discovery.

Othil’s Reach

Othil’s Reach is a lawless expanse where Scarred are bred and broken. The Breeding Houses are a mixture of calculated science and grotesque industry, where bloodlines are engineered to produce stronger workers, better meat, and perfect soldiers. The Greenveil Enclave is a luxurious retreat for the Crowned, where they indulge in their darkest desires. The Dusted Plains are a barren expanse where only the hardiest survive, and the Crowned profit from the chaos, trading in slaves and exotic goods. The most promising Scarred are sold to nobles for sport, service, or consumption. Escapees are hunted down and returned, often skinned alive as a warning. Othil’s Reach is a land of opportunity and danger, where the Crowned indulge in their most depraved fantasies and the Scarred are treated as prey.

Peh

Peh is a small, struggling settlement inhabited by weary lumberjacks and miners. The community is characterized by its dilapidated wooden structures, with many homes showing signs of neglect and decay. The residents, burdened by poverty, work tirelessly in the nearby dark, softwood forests, harvesting timber that barely sustains their livelihoods. The mines, located at the foot of the small mountains, yield only meager amounts of ore, leading to a constant struggle for survival. The atmosphere is thick with despair, as families face the harsh realities of their existence, often relying on barter for basic necessities. Occasional gatherings at the local inn provide a brief respite from their hardships, where tales of better days are shared over cheap ale. The settlement is often visited by wandering traders, but their goods are scarce and prices high, leaving the inhabitants to make do with what little they have.

Port Perka

Port Perka is the largest trading hub in the dwarven lands, bustling with merchants and travelers. The city is known for its unique customs and dialect, shaped by its proximity to the sea, and is overseen by the formidable Kones Car, a fortress that provides protection while remaining unreachable.

Port Sackra

Port Sackra is a once-thriving port city now reduced to a shadow of its former self. Nestled in the southern reaches of the dwarven lands, it was a bustling hub of trade, now impoverished and desolate. The cobbled streets are lined with crumbling stone buildings, their facades weathered by salt and time. The docks host only a few fishing boats, casting nets into murky waters. Despite its decline, vibrant murals depict its glorious past, and the local populace, primarily fishermen, hold onto their traditions and community spirit, hoping for a brighter future.

Rav’noth

Beneath miles of stone and rot lies the Bolton stronghold of Rav’noth, a festering, sprawling underground city carved through centuries of spite and blood. The air is thick with the stench of damp stone, burnt flesh, and fungus, filled with the noise of chittering voices and clanking metal. Its jagged tunnels and massive caverns twist inward, cramped and suffocating, with walls etched in claw-mark graffiti and ancestral symbols. Slaves toil under torchlight, while raiding parties vanish into black shafts, driven by a violent rhythm of stolen goods and a burning hatred for the Empire above.

Tarrin's Wake

Tarrin's Wake is a lush, verdant island that serves as the final resting place of the colossal giant Tarrin, who fell in battle against Othil 8000 years ago. The island's landscape is a testament to their titanic struggle, with rolling hills and deep valleys shaped by their clash. Over the centuries, Tarrin's massive form has become a fertile ground, now blanketed in dense forests and vibrant flora, teeming with wildlife. Ancient trees, some said to be as old as the giants themselves, tower over the landscape, while the sounds of exotic birds and rustling creatures fill the air. The island is dotted with mysterious stone formations, remnants of the giants' battle, and sacred groves that locals believe hold the spirits of the ancient deities. Adventurers often seek out Tarrin's Wake for its rich history and the rumored treasures hidden within the depths of its jungles, but they must tread carefully, for the island is also said to be protected by the lingering magic of the giants.

Teh Noor

Teh Noor is the majestic capital of the dwarven lands, nestled at the base of the towering Mount Grondar. Half of the city is carved into the mountain itself, where the captive queen of the Free'e is held, her powers exploited to create a network of subterranean transport for the dwarves. The city is adorned with shimmering gold and precious gemstones, reflecting the wealth and craftsmanship of its inhabitants. At its heart lies the grand palace of the dwarven king, a symbol of strength and opulence amidst the bustling streets filled with traders and artisans.

The Blood Halls

Within a fortified complex sealed from the rest of the Chains, the Pureborn Remnant maintain their bloodline purity at all costs. These slaves are the “chosen stock,” bred and locked in cages to produce the Empire’s next generation of obedient breeders and experiment subjects. The Remnant enforce strict hierarchy—defiance results in breeding quotas doubled or worse. The Blood Halls echo with the clatter of chains and the cold calculation of lineage control, where flesh is currency and loyalty is enforced through ritualized violence. Their power depends on maintaining “clean blood” in a world dripping with rot.

The Chains

Below the surface towers, the slave sector stretches in rusted tiers of welded steel and packed bodies. Each corridor reeks of piss, oil, and expired flesh. Narrow alleys funnel traffic to processing points—auction pits, cutting lines, and seed farms. The slave stock is rotated weekly: breeders to brothels, laborers to smelters, culls to meat racks. Guard towers jut from rooftops, manned by masked overseers with whips and prods. No names are spoken here—only designations and quotas. Steel crates bring fresh bodies from breeding camps, dumped at intake lots for sorting. The old die in piles behind heat exchangers. Between shifts, survivors are penned in barracks too narrow to lie flat. Above it all, catwalks carry nobles who tour the misery like a gallery. Deep in the lower levels, collapsed shrines bleed incense where the broken pray to nothing. Informants listen. Screams don’t travel far. This place does not sleep. It rots in motion.

The Frozen Basin of Jyrell

A frozen basin spanning 59 kilometers across, this plateau marks the grave of a comet that shattered the mountain’s spine two millennia ago. The crater's edges rise in jagged black ridges, wind‑blasted and sunless. In its dead center sits a ring of ancient human structures—six stone monoliths built low into the ice, encircling a towering effigy of Jyrell, god of death. The statue’s flail drags behind it like a chain of war crimes; its armor rusts black into the snow. These halls weren’t made for comfort—they were made for duty. No settlement here now, just devotees and whatever’s left of them. The air’s too thin to breathe right, the cold too cruel to fight. Still, the faithful endure. Every morning, a few stagger out, hauling ore from the comet’s heart. Every night, they feed the pit with bodies. No outsiders come here unless they’re lost or marked. Most don’t get to leave. Nothing echoes here. Not even screams.

The Ivory Spires

A district of glacial elegance, the Ivory Spires rise above Lothren like bone needles, housing the Empire’s aristocracy in mansions of alabaster and stained glass. Nobles flaunt curated bloodlines, their pallid features reflecting centuries of eugenic refinement. Gardens of razor-thorned roses frame pavilions where decadent “harvest banquets” occur: slaves bred in Hen Livon’s farms are butchered tableside, their organs served raw as delicacies. The Spires enforce a rigid hierarchy—commoners caught trespassing are gifted as “meal-tithe” to the hosts. Beneath manicured estates lie private dungeons for breeding “house stock,” pedigreed humans groomed for loyalty or flavor. The quarter’s apex is the Mirror Keep, a crystalline tower where nobles commune via scrying pools, bartering slaves and plotting ascension through betrayal. Beauty here is weaponized, a veneer for predation.

The Scarlet Necropolis

In the scarred ruins of what once were brothels and slaughterhouses, the Flayed Choir hold dominion. This sector is a war zone and a chapel of agony where slaves are broken, mutilated, and sacrificed in brutal rites to curry favor with Empire nobles and their own twisted hierarchy. Pain is the language, violence the law. Slaves here are weapons and worshippers, crushed under the weight of ritualized torture and savage power struggles. The Choir’s grip is absolute: obedience through fear, devotion through suffering, and death as the final mercy

Vorlund

Vorlund's Graveyard is a desolate expanse where the Empire's outcasts find their final resting place. Here, skeletal elven ruins provide crumbling shelter, while warlords vie for control over the meager resources. Trust is a luxury few can afford, as alliances shift like the sands, and betrayal is a common currency. Water is a precious commodity, fought over in brutal skirmishes, leaving the ground littered with the fallen. In this grim landscape, honor is a death sentence, and survival demands moral decay, as exiles sell their comrades to slavers for a fleeting chance at safety. Vorlund's freedom is a cruel illusion, where paranoia reigns and even the ruins whisper tales of treachery.

Vornhald

Vornhald, known as the Marches, is a rugged, mountainous area marked by deep quarries and smog-choked valleys. Cinder River flows rust-red from mine runoff, with skeletal trees lining its banks, while the region suffers from bitter winters and summer storms that trigger landslides. Ruled by the iron-fisted Duke Harkon IV, the area prioritizes iron production over sustenance, with barons enforcing quotas through mercenaries known as 'Oathkeepers.' The culture is steeped in oppression, with serfs wearing iron collars and whispering prayers to Saint Goran, while nobles indulge in lavish cannibal feasts. The economy is heavily reliant on iron ore exports, but food scarcity is rampant, with 70% of grain imported under extortionate contracts. Tensions rise as the remnants of the 'Cinder Uprising' threaten to ignite once more, with saboteurs targeting the very systems that keep the mines operational.

Waldemar's Isle

An unmapped island home to 300 exact copies of a gnome named Waldemar, who live in tall grass and function as a hive mind. They cultivate gardens for food and wine, fiercely protecting their territory from outsiders. Legends say that Waldemar comes to eat the toes of children who fail to pray to the Emperor at night.

Xaxar

Once a vibrant riverland, Xaxar is now a festering mire, a haunting reminder of the Empire's destructive ambition. Mutated flora and fauna thrive here, twisted by the remnants of the Empire's city that polluted the entire region, creating a landscape filled with grotesque organisms and potent toxins. The air is thick with the stench of decay, and the ground squelches underfoot, making every step a challenge. This area serves as a vital source of biological components for the Empire's war machine, where captured creatures are trained as shock troops, blurring the line between life and weapon.