Raven’s Breath

The Frigid North – Raven's Breath

A Throne, A Choice

Kneel, speak, and seal your fate. In the halls of power, words are sharper than blades—loyalty is never without cost.

Knowledge has a Cost

Within these ancient halls, ambition thrives, secrets fester, and the pursuit of power comes with consequences.

A Pact in the Dark

Hooded figures move through the ruins, torches flickering. A deal is struck, a secret kept—some truths are best left buried.

6
Bloodlines
51
People
16
Races
14
Territories

The Frigid North: Ice, Death, and Endurance

Bitter winds carve through an unforgiving land where the weak do not last and the strong are merely survivors. The Frigid North is a realm of endless winter, where the ground lies locked beneath ice older than memory, and the skies are painted in shifting ribbons of pale fire. Here, magic is woven from frost and shadow, a force as unrelenting as the cold itself. The dead do not always rest, their forms entombed in ice, waiting—watching. Life in the North is measured not in wealth or titles, but in resilience. Every dawn is a battle against the elements, every night a test of endurance. The land offers no kindness, yet those who call it home have learned to bend its cruelty to their will. They do not merely endure—they carve their existence from the frost, crafting legends that will not melt with the coming of spring, for here, winter is eternal, and only the unyielding may claim its strength.

Brukna’s Practice Hall 

Brukna

The air hangs thick with something unseen, a quiet tension woven into the very earth. A whisper rides the wind-low, deliberate, laced with an eerie certainty. "Not yet - but soon. And when it comes, there will be no mistaking it." A distant tremor rolls beneath your feet, subtle at first - then stronger, as if the land itself is holding its breath.

Brukna’s Practice Hall Image

Frostmaw Village Image

Frostmaw Village 

Islynn • Thrynn

The air hangs thick with something unseen, a quiet tension woven into the very earth. A whisper rides the wind-low, deliberate, laced with an eerie certainty. "Not yet - but soon. And when it comes, there will be no mistaking it." A distant tremor rolls beneath your feet, subtle at first - then stronger, as if the land itself is holding its breath.

The Cultists Caverns 

The air hangs thick with something unseen, a quiet tension woven into the very earth. A whisper rides the wind-low, deliberate, laced with an eerie certainty. "Not yet - but soon. And when it comes, there will be no mistaking it." A distant tremor rolls beneath your feet, subtle at first - then stronger, as if the land itself is holding its breath.

The Cultists Caverns Image

The cold is not your only enemy—only the unyielding survive.