Drakmor — The Land of Bound Fire

Region Type: Volcanic wasteland, ruin of gods and wyrms
Connected Regions: Ashen Veil (west), Ashveil Frontier (southwest)
Dominant Faction: The Pyrebound Order (keepers, heretics, and disciples of flame)
Known For: Wyrm relics, fire-scarred ruins, molten seas, and the silence of things that should still burn.

Overview

Drakmor was once said to be the heart of the world — the crucible where the First Fires were born, and where the dragons, or Wyrms, kindled the dawn of creation. When the gods rose to prominence, they feared the Wyrms’ dominion over flame. The Embered War followed — an age of annihilation where heaven and scale clashed until the sky itself bled cinders.

The gods could not truly kill the Wyrms; their flame was eternal. Instead, they bound them beneath the molten crust of Drakmor, forging chains of divine iron and sealing them within tombs of obsidian and ash. These prisons still smoulder, their power seeping into the world, birthing madness, zealotry, and unnatural fire.

Now, Drakmor stands as a broken continent of basalt and ember glass.
Ash winds howl through the shattered peaks, carrying whispers of the Bound Five — the last flames of an age before memory.

The Bound Wyrms

Naerith, the Ember Queen

Matriarch of flame and first among her kind, Naerith ruled the wyrms as sovereign over light itself. When the gods cast her down, her crown of fire became the Weeping Pyre — a field of molten tears that burn crimson even in snow.
Her presence stirs fanatic reverence; those who approach her tomb often kneel unbidden, weeping flame from their eyes. The Pyrebound call her the First Light Betrayed.

Draegmor, the Black Pyre

The eldest and final wyrm to fall, Draegmor’s fire was the end of all fires — the dark inversion of creation. He was sealed beneath the Scorched Citadel, a hollow fortress whose forges burn without light. His slumber is said to draw warmth from the world itself, feeding the ever-spreading cold of the northern lands.
When the Citadel’s black smoke rises, it is taken as an omen that Draegmor dreams again — and the world grows dimmer for it.

Aurethrax, the Veiled Ember

A wyrm of revelation and truth, Aurethrax’s fire did not consume — it illuminated. Her breath peeled away illusion, revealing all things as they were. The gods sealed her within the Vault of the First Breath, fearing her insight might unmask even their lies.
The Vault still hums with whispering flames; those who linger too long lose their sanity, seeing visions of what the world truly is — a truth that no mortal mind can endure.

Thyr-Valen, the Sleeper in the Fire

The youngest of the wyrms, Thyr-Valen was said to have pitied humankind. His flame brought warmth and renewal — but when bound, his dreams soured. Beneath the Cindertide Basin, he still sleeps, dreaming molten reflections of the world that was.
Pilgrims say his dreams spill upward as mirages: phantom cities, lost loves, and false heavens that vanish with the dawn.

Vaelgath, the Devourer

The hungering wyrm whose fire consumed even starlight. When bound beneath the Obsidian Maw, he tried to devour his own chains. The effort shattered his body, and now the Maw breathes clouds of black fire that taste of iron and ash.
His lingering hunger infects all who dwell nearby — even the ash itself seems to crawl, seeking to be fed flame.

Landscape & Themes

Drakmor is not a single wasteland but a vast scar, where each Wyrm’s tomb warps the land around it:

Rivers run molten, flowing uphill under the pull of buried hearts.
Ash storms whisper names of gods long dead.
Black glass plains shimmer with heat even under snow.
Pyrebound monoliths mark paths between tombs, each engraved with the sigil of a chained flame.

To walk Drakmor is to walk the edge between fire and death.
To the uninitiated, it is hell — but to the Pyrebound and the Embered faithful, it is sacred ground, where the old gods still burn, waiting for the chains to melt.

The Wyrmfire Heresy

A forbidden belief growing among the Pyrebound and a few wandering Ashknights:
That the Withering Cycle — the slow dying of the world — began when Naerith’s flame was extinguished. They claim the world is not rotting but cooling, the embers of creation fading because its true suns were sealed.

If they are right, then freeing the Wyrms could reignite the world.
If they are wrong, they would burn it to ash in the attempt.