Overview
What is Kirinioth
Kirinioth is a dark age fantasy setting, shaped by myth, calamity, and the slow rebuilding that followed. In ages long past, the gods walked the world freely, but their presence brought more dread than comfort. The gods were not benevolent guardians – they were forces of nature made manifest, indifferent at best and cruel at worst. Eventually, they were challenged, defeated, and bound to distant corners of the world.
Tone and Themes
Kirinioth leans toward grounded fantasy. Magic exists, but it is rare, dangerous, and often poorly understood. Most folk will live and die without ever seeing a mage or witnessing a spell cast. The world is not teeming with adventurers or monsters – it is a place where survival depends on hard labor, cautious alliances, and a little luck.
The setting is threaded with loss and the weight of history. Ruins of past empires litter the land, and ancient wrongs still shape present-day politics. While some cultures look to the future, others cling to old glories or drift aimlessly in the wake of decline. Faith persists, but is fractured. Some still revere the bound gods, others curse them, and a few whisper of newer powers taking shape.
Despite the shadows, Kirinioth is not hopeless. There is room for local heroes, for small victories, and for quiet moments of beauty. Villages survive, trade routes reopen, and ordinary people carry on. It is a world where change is possible – slow, costly, but real – and the stories that emerge tend to be personal, hard-earned, and rarely neat.
The setting is threaded with loss and the weight of history. Ruins of past empires litter the land, and ancient wrongs still shape present-day politics. While some cultures look to the future, others cling to old glories or drift aimlessly in the wake of decline. Faith persists, but is fractured. Some still revere the bound gods, others curse them, and a few whisper of newer powers taking shape.
Despite the shadows, Kirinioth is not hopeless. There is room for local heroes, for small victories, and for quiet moments of beauty. Villages survive, trade routes reopen, and ordinary people carry on. It is a world where change is possible – slow, costly, but real – and the stories that emerge tend to be personal, hard-earned, and rarely neat.
Setting
The setting centers around the Shielded Sea Region – a large, geographically isolated area that has remained cut off from the broader world for nearly 2,400 years. This isolation was partly natural and partly magical. To the west lies an ancient barrier, subtle but impassable. The southern and eastern seas churn with relentless storms, a lingering consequence of the wars that shattered the old empires. To the north, harsh terrain and ruined pathways bar passage, and the old roads through the mountains have long since collapsed or been buried.
The nations of the Shielded Sea emerged from the ashes of the Aitauan Empire, a once-mighty civilization undone by drought, war, and divine wrath. What remains are fractured kingdoms, city-states, and a handful of outposts clinging to old traditions. Some nations are direct descendants of the empire, clinging to what order and knowledge remain. Others formed from exiles, survivors, or peoples forgotten by the empires altogether.
Despite the long peace, tensions simmer beneath the surface. Ambitious kings stir old grudges. Forgotten magics resurface. Refugees flee growing threats from the south and west. Sea travel, once thought impossible, is beginning to open up again – though what lies beyond remains unknown.
For now, the Shielded Sea remains a place where threads of fate twist and fray, where mortal lives brush against echoes of divine power. It is a world with room for legends, for ruin, and for hope.
The nations of the Shielded Sea emerged from the ashes of the Aitauan Empire, a once-mighty civilization undone by drought, war, and divine wrath. What remains are fractured kingdoms, city-states, and a handful of outposts clinging to old traditions. Some nations are direct descendants of the empire, clinging to what order and knowledge remain. Others formed from exiles, survivors, or peoples forgotten by the empires altogether.
Despite the long peace, tensions simmer beneath the surface. Ambitious kings stir old grudges. Forgotten magics resurface. Refugees flee growing threats from the south and west. Sea travel, once thought impossible, is beginning to open up again – though what lies beyond remains unknown.
For now, the Shielded Sea remains a place where threads of fate twist and fray, where mortal lives brush against echoes of divine power. It is a world with room for legends, for ruin, and for hope.
What is the Tapestry?
The Tapestry is the foundation of all existence – a boundless weave of threads that holds the world together. In the beginning, it lay still and colorless, a dormant fabric stretched across the void. Then came the fracture, the spark that tore through the weave and gave rise to color, motion, and life.
Each thread carries a force: some shape stone, others stir winds, kindle flame, or cradle thought. In an earlier age, the gods themselves manipulated these threads, each aligning with a specific color and force – blue for water, red for fire and decay, green for life and war, and so on. Though the gods were bound long ago, the threads remain. They twist through every living thing, every gust of wind and shifting shadow.
Magic in Kirinioth is the art of weaving these threads – of tugging at reality and guiding it into new forms. It can be studied, practiced, and refined, though never without danger. The threads are ancient and volatile; pulling on them carelessly risks backlash or unintended consequences. Some threads resist; others fray or tangle. Skilled weavers spend years mastering how to coax a thread into motion rather than force it.
Each color of thread governs a distinct kind of magic. Some lend themselves to destruction, others to healing or transformation. No thread exists in isolation – every action has echoes, and great power often carries unseen costs. Even the most accomplished threadworkers tread carefully, lest they unravel more than they intend.
The Tapestry connects all things. And though it is vast, it remembers every pull.
Each thread carries a force: some shape stone, others stir winds, kindle flame, or cradle thought. In an earlier age, the gods themselves manipulated these threads, each aligning with a specific color and force – blue for water, red for fire and decay, green for life and war, and so on. Though the gods were bound long ago, the threads remain. They twist through every living thing, every gust of wind and shifting shadow.
Magic in Kirinioth is the art of weaving these threads – of tugging at reality and guiding it into new forms. It can be studied, practiced, and refined, though never without danger. The threads are ancient and volatile; pulling on them carelessly risks backlash or unintended consequences. Some threads resist; others fray or tangle. Skilled weavers spend years mastering how to coax a thread into motion rather than force it.
Each color of thread governs a distinct kind of magic. Some lend themselves to destruction, others to healing or transformation. No thread exists in isolation – every action has echoes, and great power often carries unseen costs. Even the most accomplished threadworkers tread carefully, lest they unravel more than they intend.
The Tapestry connects all things. And though it is vast, it remembers every pull.