The Whirl is a Dangerous Place…


The Whirl is ancient, and tales of its creation are as varied as its islands, but few are left that remember the civilizations that followed. Over five hundred years ago, true dragons descended upon the islands and terror rippled out from where they came to roost. They destroyed everything, spared few, and they gave their draconic blessings to those they would make their slaves. The mortal races could see their sunset. Most were huddled together in one large city state, trying to protect what they had left while others, the Minotaurs in particular, wished to fight to the last.

Yet, while the populace argued and wailed at the end of days, a council of spellcasters met in secret. With the help of the few brave souls left in the Whirl, they gathered the materials to create the most powerful magic barrier anyone, the dragons included, had ever seen. In a flash that turned the night into day, a massive city-wide barrier unfurled over the citizens of the last city, and from that moment, nothing even remotely related to the dragons that hunted them would ever step foot into the city again.

Tragically, this meant that the Dragonborn, who had allied with the other mortal races, were exiled from civilization. Fragmented by constant attacks, they had no choice but to spread all around in the hope that their smaller tribes would not be so easily found. The Minotaurs on the other hand were insulted by the very idea of cowering beneath the magic barrier. After a bloody coup, they took every ship not yet destroyed in the city harbor and cast out to sea, determined to fight to the last.

In the five hundred years since, the last city, known as the city of Un, has developed its own cloistered if urban culture, the Dragonborn have survived to become tribal naturalists, speaking with the spirits of sand and sea, and the Minotaurs have somehow managed a life of piracy, though no one Wallborn or otherwise knows where the horned mortals have taken to call home.

The one thing that unifies them all to this day, is that they still live under the shadow of the dragon who roosts atop Dead Heat Mountain, Frigidine the Ice Queen.

The Wandering Age

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