Welcome to The Faleal Index
Here is a world of dark fantasy, powered in equal parts by madness, magic, and hope.
Here, the last dragon spins the sky and whispers the song of fire, while its impossible assassins lurk in the depthless seas.
Here, the ultimate predators, bound to protect the mortal races until the end of time, grow restless in their prison at the end of all things.
Here, civilizations rise and fall on the backs and sins of mortal fools and heroes alike.
Here, the whims of madmen and gods are equally heard.
This is Faleal, the creation of Doug Haworth, with help from countless testers, designers, and consultants.
These works, this world, and all content therein are the copyright of the author, barring express written permission from the author, and should be treated as if under CC-BY-NC-ND.
About Faleal
Faleal is a world first, and a campaign setting second.
It is a dark fantasy magepunk, with unique races, rich history, and plenty of room for villains and heroes alike.
The world itself is primarily water, with almost all land connected to the core of the planet by a web-like lattice of hollow stone. Not all of the land has been discovered - a wall of deep-red crystal impales the heavens and sunders the world, blocking all forms of transportation and communication. What IS known is most commonly known as the Divide, for the two major continents split by the Sea of Stars.
Magic exists in many forms, from arcane secrets drawn from the labyrinthine minds of hidden horrors to mastery of the blade that transcends ritual or reality. The theory stands that all magic stems from the same place - but as of yet, there is no proof.
On Faleal, the gods commonly walk the world, living and dying as nothing more than powerful mortals. Their worshipers flock to their destinations, praying for blessings and boons.
Traveling the seas is unsafe at best, and suicide at worst. Within their depths, slavers lurk in moving cities of living coral and lost technology, and ancient, unknowable godlike beings coil and writhe. Airships are everywhere, with the most discerning (and wealthy) of customers instead paying for direct transportation via magic.
The skies, while safe, are unpredictable. Normally, the twinkling stars serve as both watchtower and guidepost, crewed by devils and archons. This network of star-cities, known as the Shroud, protects the young world, watching the surface below and the infinite night above. Now, that Shroud is obscured, blocked by the woven sky and its false stars. The Shrouded guardians are silent behind this Countless Cloth, and the world below is without its guardian angels.
Above it all, his cocoon woven into both the Shroud and the Cloth, the Overseer, the last dragon, sleeps. In his dreams, he whispers the wordless song of fire, providing heat and light to the world below. His Firmament crosses the sky like a great invisible web, bound between two immobile planar gates of immense size. Within this web, the four horsemen struggle, trapped in moons of borrowed flesh and stone. One of these moons is empty.
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