Before time was time, when dragons ruled the world, the Third Aberration War raged. The spectators, orderly and noble, found a world that would be a suitable Hiveworld and sculpted the deepest places within to a hollow core, never troubling the draconic overlords of the surface. The spectator faction grew and once more made ready to end the depredations of their evil aberration brethren. Thousands of years before mortals made empires, an illithid force secretly infiltrated the Spectator Hiveworld, and placed all the ocular spheroids in a state of suspended animation, asleep for a thousand thousand years.
Millenia ago the S'suman Imperium, under a religious sect known as the Masters of Truth, made war on the Confederacy of Dragons, mammalian upstarts versus an ancient reptilian order. During this war the S'suman Imperium, who became known as the Godslayers, would invent a weapon so terrible that it nearly extinguished the southern sun, killing the forgotten god that lived inside. This conflict ended with victory for the Godslayer Imperium and destruction of the Confederacy of Dragons. The Godslayers empire grew but with passing centuries this fueled a smoldering conflict with the nomadic Northern Roeblini Armada. According to Roeblini legend, the deiticide of the Godslayers triggered their decline and the waning of their might. Under the eternal bloody twilight of the great Southern imperium, the barbaric raiders and the decadent savages made war.
Ten score years ago, the Roeblini Armada finally lay the final siege across the Forest Sea to the Empire of the Godslayers, casting down the ancient emperor and destroying the capitol seat. In its stead rose New Roeblini City which soon became a thriving port and trade center.
The city is the centerpiece of a long curved belt of smaller outposts that stretch along the coast. New Roeblini City is a series of small islands nestled within a crater half open to the sea. Towering waterfalls falling from the forested cliffs feed the brackish but murderous currents of the city's shallow harbor. South of the ribbon-like nation is a great verdant rainforest that has swallowed, over centuries, the Godslayer Imperium. Throughout these jungles live great lizards some of whom have been turned to beasts of burden or war, and some too rapacious but to be attacked on sight. The landscape is dotted with active volcanoes heating the humid air far more than the tepid light of the waning Southern sun. Many blame the salt and wet for turning copper roof's green and tarnishing gold to black, but oldings say each year the decay seems to accelerate, and legends say that in the time of the S'Suman Imperium there was no decay. All will admit that more and more of the walking dead have been seen in the last five years than ever before, although most would agree that the rapidly expanding population is disturbing more and more secreted Imperial tombs. Everyday the population of this booming nation grows both from natural production and immigration. Everyday prosperity abounds.
New Roeblini is the new homeland of this formerly nomadic nation. It is governed by an elected chieftain and two houses of representation. The first is the House of Heroes whose members are selected by their deeds of renown and service to the nation. Their opposition is the House of Merchants whose members are selected by monetary bids for seats. The two houses select candidates for the position of Chieftain who is then elected by the common populace and serves until they resign or die, currently this is Lady Andova, a merchant-magi who has served for the last 12 years. Laws and taxation are prepared by one house and voted upon by the other. In all other matters of policy the chieftain serves as absolute ruler.
Many leagues to the southeast lies the Draconic Confederacy politically silent and diplomatically neutral. The Tunnelweb of the Dwarves now reaches the distant coast of New Roeblini, although careful tariffs have kept the stout folk from completely monopolizing trade. The Feywild kisses reality from sea and sky. During mysterious solstices and equinoxes the jade waves of the Forest Sea become the rippling canopy of the Elven Homeland. Far to the north under the crisp light of the Young Sun, the Eladrin Realm winks in and out of existence atop the clouds.
Millenia ago the S'suman Imperium, under a religious sect known as the Masters of Truth, made war on the Confederacy of Dragons, mammalian upstarts versus an ancient reptilian order. The Masters of Truth, actually illithids corrupting the Imperium, attempted to slay the god Pharthas and cast the southern hemisphere in eternal tropical twilight. According to Roeblini legend, the heroes Tulmo and Ulrian roused the noble spectators from their forced slumber and eliminated the illithid threat, preventing the deiticide of Pharthas. With the loss of the Masters of Truth the S’suman Imperium began to collapse under the Condraconacy and the S’suman Imperium sought succor from the Northern Roeblini Armada. Under the wise illumination of Pharthas, the barbarian raiders guided by the noble spectators rallied to the rescue of the decadent savages, shattering the Condraconacy, the draconic overlords vanishing to the four corners of the world.
Ten score years ago, the last Roeblini Armada finally dissolved into the Empire of the Kingmakers, their chieftains taking equal seats on the Council of Kings after the opening barrage of the Fourth Aberration War slew the ancient emperor and destroyed the capitol seat. In its stead rose the Cathedralfort of Pharthas, a divine bastion against the otherworldly attacks of aberration forces, which soon also became a thriving port and trade center.
The city is the centerpiece of a long curved belt of smaller fortresses that stretch along the coast and deep into the interior. The Cathedralfort is an imposing structure connecting a series of small islands nestled within a crater walled off from the sea. Towering waterfalls falling from the forested cliffs feed the brackish but murderous currents of the fortress’ shallow harbor. South of the Cathederalfort, the citizens of the Kingmaker Imperium have beaten back the great verdant rainforest that threatens to swallow the besieged nation. Throughout these lands live great lizards that have been turned to beasts of burden or war. Deep in the rainforest live some too rapacious but to be attacked on sight. The landscape is dotted with inactive volcanoes, portals to the Dwarven Tunnelweb and the Spectator Hivecore. Many blame the salt and wet for turning copper roof's green and tarnishing gold to black, but oldings say each year the decay seems to slow, and legends say that in the time of the Masters of Truth the rot was a bane more grave. All will admit that fewer and fewer of the walking dead have been seen in the last five years than ever before, although most would agree that the rapidly expanding population is more sheltered in the organized fortress communities throughout the Empire. Everyday the population of this nation at war grows both from natural production and immigration. Everyday warriors are sent to front lines beyond the material plane.
The Kingmaker Imperium is a vast military theocracy composed of spectators, Roeblini, S’suman, dwarves, githzerai, and a smattering of gnomes and halflings. It is governed by a Council of Kings, drawn from the leaders of it’s constituent nations and people. The Council is oft considered a puppet of the Spectator Ordinate particularly by those opposed to the continued humanoid sacrifice in the Fourth Aberration War. The Church of Two Suns is led by the general-priests of Pharthas and Drouss whose decisions in extraplanar military matters supersedes even that of the Council of Kings, but is reliant on the Council for the funding and intelligence to continue the war. The largest corps of the Church are the Morgrin, led by General Morgrin Paramount.
Many leagues to the southeast lies the destroyed Draconic Confederacy, some say that some of its wyrm overlords still slumber in the ruins. The Tunnelweb of the Dwarves connects the Spectator Ordinate with the Kingmaker Empire, although careful tariffs have kept the stout folk from completely monopolizing trade. The Feywild no longer kisses reality from sea or sky, what elves and eladrin are left are forever exiled from their homelands. Tales says that in centuries past, during mysterious solstices and equinoxes the jade waves of the Forest Sea would become the rippling canopy of the Elven Homeland. Far to the north under the crisp light of the Young Sun, the Eladrin Realm no longer winks in and out of existence atop the clouds.