Long ago, before Caldera, before the Moons, before The Second Sign and the gods, the dominant culture was that of the Sibaroon.

The Sibaroon were people of art and science capable of creating both wondrous, delicate toys and terrifying, subtle weapons. Their society was largely peaceful, and few threats lasted very long in the face of their skill.

Those in the upper echelons of society wore masks decorated with complex sigils, each design representing a great feat or contribution of their house, with other, smaller symbols representing their own.

Sibaroon architecture was baroque (think Moroccan), filled with the elegant decorative flourishes of a people who had created mechanical servants to perform a majority of all manual labour. This reliance on automated help led to a culture that devoted itself to aesthetics and artistic whim. It also bred a people who were ill-equipped to deal with a lack of control over their world.



Then the cataclysm came. A vast crater opened up in the center of the Sibaroon homeland, throwing up black dust which hid the sun, and releasing pale, mist-like ‘Amber’ over the land. This Amber brought new horrors with it: strange blights, and savage, misshapen creatures that howled into the darkness. Before long, crop failure and constant terror utterly destroyed Harnian culture. The workings of its technology were lost, and its people scattered, eking out a meagre existence where they could.

This period was simply known as The Endless Dark.



More than one hundred years passed before the First Sign: five moons began to glow in the sky - clearly visible although the sun was not. The moons’ appearance coincided with a new fertility in the soil. Areas that were blackened, depleted, sun-starved wastelands began to grow trees and crops once more.



The people of this new world, which they called Caldera, began to dream. Each dreamed of great beneficent creatures watching over them, and with each of these dreams came a name:

• The Lords of Dust
  
• The Blind Angels
  
• Death’s Jester
  
• The Lady of the Sanguine Moon
  
• The Great Forest Wolf

Caldera's people divided, each following a different faith determined by the nature of their dream. Each faith brought with it a different viewpoint on life, death, values and magic. Despite these differences there was no war. Memories and stories of the hardship they had endured during the Endless Dark prompted Calderans to find a way to live together.

And so Moon-upon-Thoss, ‘The City of Balance’, was founded. The role of Archon was created, reserved for those who did not dream, those who were free to choose their own path and thus, perhaps, retain a sense of truth and balance.

You are one such Dreamless. You are free to choose your fate, to worship or not worship as you decide. And maybe one day, you might rise to the role of Archon.



The Dreamless are viewed with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Many of the dreamless are mad, roving the land in predatory bands, taking what they can to perpetuate their animalistic existence. Others are Dreamless because they have been driven mad by the effects of Amber, although some would argue that they are not necessarily human.

The remainder are those with true free will. They are uncertain of their path, and free to choose to follow or to ignore the gods as they wish.

Amber has not disappeared. Wisps of the strange mist still pass over the land, bringing strange creatures and terrible effects wherever it passes.






Dates in Caldera are written in the form D and E: Dende (‘Before’ the First Sign) and Ende ('After' the First Sign). The prefixes come from Ancient Sibaroon rather than the Forest Tongue used by most speakers today.

The greatest city sits upon an island in a great lake. It is also known as 'The City of Balance' as all cultures meet here peacefully, with a strict edict against any form of proselytising. Going against this results in a fine and a small brand on a left palm. Gain 3 brands, and you are outcast.

Moon-upon-Thoss sits centrally in the world, and this - together with its edicts against preferential treatment for any culture - ensures its status as a hub for trade.

The town - and indeed the 'world' - figurehead is The Archon; a title closer to 'Pope' rather than King, Archons being voted upon by the notional heads of each of the main cultures, as well as other notable figures. The role is considered to be important, but also cripplingly neutral. An Archon who cannot demonstrate his neutrality is considered unfit for the role.




Hearthaven began as a temple to the Blind Angels, but has grown into a centre for spirituality and philosophy. Here, rhetoric stands shoulder-to-shoulder with logic, mixed - rather unusually - with a determined notion of 'Justice'. While any argument may be made for anything, a defendant not being able to prove one's case where harm has been done can lead to a swift and merciless retribution.

While the world does not have judges per-se, Hearthaven's brightest scholars often find themselves in the main city helping individuals prove their case to the Archon. Unlike the notion of Law in our own world, Law here represents a holistic argument that may be extended to redefining notions of 'the greater good'. Theft, for example, under certain circumstances may be considered a trifling crime if the defendant lacks the means to survive, or a capital offence if taken as proof of corruption.

Underpinning this philosophical bent is communion with the 'Elders' who have passed on. Hearthaven’s people have a great respect for their ancestors, and the priest class communes with them frequently, in order to gain a wider perspective on the world.

The Blind Angels are the oldest and wisest spirits, considered ‘Blind’ for their adherence to sound argument rather than purchased favor.




Originally a temple to The Lady of the Sanguine Moon, this ‘grove’ is now a well-established town sat on a ridge above the shores of Easthoss - the eastern sea.

Despite the Grove’s residents all eschewing the written word, its formalized oral traditions have led to the town producing the finest healers. The Red Grove harbors a slight resentment toward Hearthaven, who are often considered their intellectual rivals. The Grove, however, considers Hearthaven’s communion with spirits to be a perversion of communion with the Goddess; humans are flawed after all, while the divine is all-knowing and flawless. This combination of oral tradition and profound religiosity leads the Red Grove’s people to be rather inflexible. If Hearthaven is Utilitarian, then Red Grove is Deontological.

Many of the world's citizens consider The Red Grove terrifying, due to their liberal use of blood-magic, and the general messiness of its rituals. Many have died waiting for other medical help rather than take on the taint of their 'cursed' blood.




Wintersholl's people are fierce, friendly and tough. They abhor liquor or any other substances that might reduce their ability to fight, diminish their senses or interfere with their connection to the natural world.

Wintersholl is a large, sparsely laid out combination of a logging village and grand hunting lodges. There is no leadership here: each citizen is expected to fight for his own way without interference from the outside. Despite the apparent similarity to the 'me first' ethos of Harrowdus, crime is largely absent here since individuals can withdraw favour and trade from any other person for any reason. Suddenly finding that nobody will help you haul your lumber is a swift path to starvation.

The village's motto is 'To each his own, from all to the forest'. The villagers hold wolves in high esteem (higher than outsiders) for their simple canine honesty and lack of civilisation. They are cunning without being disingenuous. It is not uncommon for individuals to go deep into the woods to commune with the Great Wolf of the Forest (the Wolf is not named, for that is a human convention).

Wintersholl values fine weaponry, and the arts of battle, honesty and the hunt.




Harrowdus has an undeserved reputation as a place of insanity and swift death. It is undeserved because death is not always swift.

Harrowdus is not a town of thieves. Thieves do not last long. Harrowdus' predominant philosophy is comic nihilism. Life means little here, not due to greed or want, but because ALL life means nothing and that is just hilarious.

Harrowdus' people are hedonists and the life of the party. "We revel as if the moon shall not rise tomorrow." They have a surprising degree of patience with others, but if that boundary is crossed they have little use for the adage 'forgive and forget'.

"If you would steal my bread you choose to wrong me, if you choose to wrong me you are my enemy, if you are my enemy then your life is mine.... and now we have fun."

There is a saying in the outside world: "Never take a loan from Harrowdus".

Those in other towns who are too squeamish for 'direct action' or who need experts in joyful subterfuge seek out Death's Jesters - students of Death Magic ranging from simple poisons to the ability to control fire or harness the souls of the recently dead.




If the Blood Witches are followers of oral tradition, the Lost Library is the polar opposite. Barrow-Linn is a town of antiquarians, historians, scholars, students and archaeologists. Their primary belief is that all of humanity's greatest achievements have already been discovered, and are out there somewhere, probably fused in Amber. To a degree, they are correct - many great magics were lost when the Sibaroon fell to Amber. However, Barrow-Linn's people have developed a great disdain for almost anything 'modern', using archaic speech-forms, and refusing to alter their clothing, architecture or food unless it seems in line with the Great Ancient Traditions.

Honoured citizens who die in service to the Library (either in study, or out in the world finding rare artifacts or books) are given the title "Lord of Dust", a nod to the idea that the greatest works of mankind must eventually diminish. Those earning this monicker have usually mastered some ancient magic via the peculiar artifacts scattered around the world. It is said that some have even found ways to control the flow of time, and read the strange, shifting Sibaroon inscriptions seen in certain ruins.

Barrow-Linn's residents are respectful, calm, serious, and surprisingly friendly - especially to those who share their interests.

This was once the Garden of Lorelei, gifted to this ancient Lady by her husband, Elder Gyrion, when she could no longer bear the light of sun nor moon. Back then, countless holes in the forest roof allowed light and rain to fall upon the vast tiers of plants when the Lady was not visiting.

Since the cataclysm, the holes have become overgrown, leaving the Garden dark, and home to those things which shun the light. The Garden is now a ruined, overgrown coil, its walls slick with organic slime which glistens in the lamplight.

Great horned things and their bestial followers now live within the damp earth walls, their minds always upon the hunt, lusting for the copper taste of fresh blood.

Here, fur and blade and might make right. No tricks. No deception. Just raw, brutal force and the relentless drives of gnawing hunger and blind bloodlust.




The Repository is one of the many great, guarded treasure houses of the old Sibaroon Empire, allegedly created by the legendary Tharteus Roche.

The mute, pallid servants who once guarded this place are no more, the creatures their children's children spawned, tainted by Amber and greed, live on in its vast stone labyrinth, sustained by some ancient energy.

Things whirr and clank in the dark. Machines whose purpose is long forgotten keep vigil over a dead world, while lost treasure-seekers flounder madly knowing that they can no longer face the world above, and their prize is tragically close at hand.

Death by spike, spear or stone seems inevitable, or maybe there will be a click before some hidden mechanism reveals its singular deadly purpose.




Once a great Sibaroon shrine this was a place of quiet contemplation and silence designed to bring peace and tranquility to the troubled mind. After the cataclysm came, the tower was sealed, and its lightless spirals abandoned as civilisation fell.

Now, the tower's confines magically bind and consolidate darkness, which has gained the strange quality of smothering all lights almost instantaneously. Those outside the glow of a welcoming flame soon become quite mad.

The devout once made their way here on pilgrimage. Some put out their own eyes and embraced the dark. Others were corrupted by the strange cloak of lightlessness and now make the shadows their home, while keeping those they deem unworthy from the tower's secrets.




This was once the ossuary for the greatest Sibaroon families. Use of deadlights was banned here in order to preserve the sanctity of the dead. As a result, there is no machinery beyond that necessary to block or allow passage.

Grave robbers have attempted to plunder imagined riches over the centuries, and their own life force has given rise to spontaneous creation of deadlights, inevitably resulting in exactly the outcome the ancients sought to avoid.

This is now a place of the whispering dead. Few thieves attempt to learn the Necropolis' secrets in these sunless days. Those who do ultimately end up joining the shuffling, hopeless things within its walls.




Some say that it was created by most notorious Tharteus Roche's student, Andere Bael. Though none can be sure, the one thing that all know is that the Jest seems to have been designed to test the Sibaroon's greatest warriors.

While it was rumoured that Bael was cruel, some dispute this origin story and suggest that that the box appeared fully formed beneath the streets of Harrowdus when the Mordant Moon first rose into the sky in order to appropriately test those who would claim the Archon's role.

Regardless of the truth, the fact remains that this particular subterranean enigma is unlike the other trials, in that it attracts those who have already succumbed to the madness of Amber and embraced its changes it has brought.

But, beyond those who lurk within its walls, another intelligence seems to exist, toying with those it deems suitably entertaining. Did Bael build this Jest? Does he do so still?