Beyond the borders of civilizations, among the forests, fens, swamps and highlands dwells the mortal race known as the Wyldfolk, a people marked by their kinship with nature.
Dressed in colorful clan tartans, they march to stirring bagpipes, while preceding their armies like a stalking shadow are countless camouflaged scouts, rangers and hunters, as invisible as the wind.
Fully a quarter of the Wyldfolk turned their backs even on the druids and the gods altogether, embracing instead worship of nature and the anima of The Goddess Dhannya, in an epic bid to resurrect the shattered god-soul of the mother of the cosmos.
Shadow is the 5th element, the great balancer, guardian of the cosmic scales, and its unforgiving forces, dedicated to exterminating mankind, are the Troglodytes.
The brutal and disciplined armies of hulking Trolloth form feudal societies, building vast fortresses and marching to war in thick armor of iron, while diminutive Gnolls swarm out of labyrinthine warrens excelling in sneaky tactics.
Imperious and magical, the Shadow Trolls use their ethereal forms to move as fleeting shadows and penetrate all defenses. Savage and frenzied, the Feral Trolls are primal beasts lurking in the wilderness.
Far to the north, where lands are draped in snow, there stands between the glacial heights the adamant kingdom of Nordgaard.
This nation is an alloy populated by Dwarves and the mortal Skannfyrd tribes. Upon the barren tundra and in forests of pine; atop snowy peaks and in grim mountain halls; Nordgaard is a land where echoes of the Old Gods may still be heard. In frontier trade-posts and damp whaling villages, aboard Seawolf longships and in cities of Dwarven stone the Vaettir pantheon is preeminent.
The nation stands at the gates of an arctic hell and is the bulwark upon which the demon hordes of Frostmark smash themselves annually.
The Mortan Empire is the mightiest nation on Ghorn; magnificent and morbid, enlightened and superstitious.
Guarded by the praetorian legions, the 13 Lichelord Emperors seek to liberate humanity, but the empire's sinister use of assassination, alchemical weapons, necromancy and military might undermines its image as compassionate liberator.
The empire is a multi-faceted, sprawling edifice of amoral decadence, defying black-and-white classifications. Vast, arched forums, aqueducts, coliseums and mausoleums are constructed in lands conquered by the crimson-clad legions to imprint the stamp of Mortan culture.
Mighty, magnificent, and sophisticated, the Halodyne culture has been the most influential in recorded history; carried across four continents by the navies of triremes and the armies of bronze-clad hoplites.
Their Pantheistic worship is so intrinsic to the culture that Halodyne society could be likened to the weave of cloth; for through the political might of the secular city-states is woven the religious power of the twelve temple-cults.
The Halodynes believe themselves a superior, noble race chosen by the gods to lead mankind. Over the centuries, this immense pride has fermented to hubris.
Banebrood are the twisted, slavering horror lurking just beyond sight; the putrid, corrupt carriers of plagues; the armies of uncompromising brutality which crash upon the walls of civilization.
Their grotesque forms are diverse, ranging from hideously mutated mortals to man-beast obscenities. All are deranged, vicious creatures hellbent on hacking down the rotten tree that is civilized society. What unites these barbarous breeds as a species is an innate subconscious link to the cosmic force of feral fury known as the Urghast. No race on Calydorn has inflicted as much mayhem as the Banebrood, and no race has been spared their rage.