Nations of Faltharion

The Concord of Aion

The Concord of Aion is a union of five city-states and it's surrounding territories. Five of them are rooted in the Seasonlands, enchanted regions locked in eternal spring, summer, autumn, or winter. Surrounding them is The Wreath, a volatile stretch of terrain where the seasons clash in constant, chaotic struggle. One moment brings blistering heat; the next, biting frost or sudden bloom. At the heart of the Seasonlands lies Caelvara, the capital, where seasons flow in a steady and gentle cycle.

The people of Aion live lives steeped in devotion to the Family of Four Faces, the dominant religion that honors each season’s divine patron. But not all voices sing in harmony. A heretical cult, the Children of the Stillborn Dawn, now whispers of a forsaken "hollow season," a fifth face long forgotten, whose time to rise is near.

Lumenin

A silk-gloved hand conceals the rotting, iron fist of Lumenin. Known across Faltharion as the epicenter of decadence and high society, its peeling veneer hides rampant crime, poverty, and corruption from prying eyes. Many say the brilliant flame of their signature Candleblade has burned too much of its wick and will soon be snuffed out, just like their now-abandoned former capital, Viellecour.

A good Lumei is quick with words, daggers, or a well-placed bag of gold. A great Lumei knows how to wield all three at once. Convincing someone you’re not stabbing them in the chest is no easy task, but it’s far from impossible.

Skeldrheim's Cairn

The hearty and honorable folk of Skeldrheim’s Cairn wear no crowns, only oaths, in the shape of runes bound around the neck or carved across the face. The five clans of the Council of Jarls rule their holds independently, uniting under a single High Oathkeeper only in times of dire need.

To “die standing” is more than a turn of phrase; it is a way of life. The honored dead are interred upright in icy coffins, positioned atop hillsides so they might forever watch over the living. In Vethgard, the capital hold, these frozen ancestors, known as the Vowmarked, form the very walls that shield its people. Some say that if the city were ever attacked, the Vowmarked would awaken and rise one final time to defend their heirs. Others believe it is no more than superstition. It is purely coincidence that no one has ever tried to take Vethgard.

#Nythea

The gnomes of Nythea are a people of art, philosophy, astronomy, and oration. Debate is not just a pastime; it is sacred. Rhetoric, logic, and creativity are considered the highest pursuits, and pacifism is not only practiced but institutionalized. Conflict seen as a failure of imagination. Still, understanding the harsh reality of war, the gnomes have long relied on the might of Aion to defend their ideals. Some whisper that this reliance may be less a partnership and more a slow intellectual colonization.

Their faith is less divine and more cosmic. The gnomes revere the mathematical precision of the universe and the elegant dance of Faltharion’s twin moons, Vel and Phira. To them, divinity is found in the orbit, the pattern, the equation. The moons are studied obsessively, not just for navigation or timekeeping, but as reflections of the self. A Nythean gnome can tell you who you are, and who you are meant to be, simply by the phase of Vel and the shadow of Phira on the night you were born.

Kuyoji

The elves of Kuyoji dwell within the Eternal Forest, a vast and ancient woodland where time itself halts around them. So long as they remain within its bounds, they are functionally immortal, unchanging and unageing. But to cross the invisible line that marks the forest’s edge is to lose that gift, grow old, and eventually die. Outsiders cannot perceive this boundary, nor understand the depth of what it means for an elf to leave.

Their society is deeply ritualized and politically rigid, centered around the Imperial Court and the Tsuru Karre, a ruler more symbol than sovereign. Power flows through thirteen noble houses, whose influence shapes everything from law to etiquette. Isolationist and expansionist factions vie for dominance behind polite smiles and layers of ceremony. Even exile is formalized, a rare but damning sentence that strips an elf of name, family, and eternity.

Min al Hajar

Perseverance is sacred to all dwarves, especially since an ancient cataclysm rendered their once-grand mountain home into a vast desert of dust. Setting aside petty squabbles and old grudges, they have labored tirelessly for centuries to construct Min al Hajar, a monumental pyramid that rises from the ruins of their ancestral peaks. The unfinished monument stands as a testament to their resilience and ambition.

But stone and sand do not feed a people. Dwarven caravan-guilds now roam the world, their wagons laden with Khurazim, “ash-steel” found only in the ruined heart of their homeland. They trade this precious metal for food, lumber, and cloth, keeping their culture alive one deal at a time until the mountain kingdom is reborn, stronger than stone and prouder than ever before.

Cuztal

Cuztali halflings are a blood-driven people who view every moment as a debt to their gods, paid through sacrifice and pain. From childhood, they are taught to kill before they are even named, with weakness punished in the Culling of the Soft. They hunt only intelligent prey, believing that meat which feels fear holds power.

Death defines Cuztal. Brutal rituals like the Flaying Parade and Sunstoke Ceremony offer pain as tribute to the gods. Justice is decided in trial pits, where death proves innocence. Death is celebrated. Bodies are embalmed, turned into drums, and displayed for wisdom. Warriors fight covered in ash and gore, using brutal tactics to instill terror.

Ur'Kadesh

Orcs exist in a post-religious theocracy, a paradoxical society where divinity is acknowledged only in ruin. Their values stem from the act of god slaying, the defining achievement of their race, or likely any other. They do not revere what once was. They revere the choice to destroy it.

Magic practiced within their swamp homeland is brutal, industrial, and often explosive. Through a sacrificial rite known as Bonecraft, orcs harness volatile power from their dead god’s remains to construct Iron Shrikes, biomechanical war engines once used to wage war upon all of Faltharion. This war, now known as the Boneburn Crusade, saw Faltharion act as a unified front that pushed the orcs back to their bone-strewn home. Peace has since fallen upon the world, and most believe the orc threat has been dealt with for good.