Latin for "Heaven", it's a world of my own creation. Certainly I've borrowed from published campaigns and even Magic: The Gathering, but it's an expansive world that lives and breathes. It's been my creative outlet; creating cities, characters, and dungeons that are real. Being a Dungeon Master is something I can't imagine I'll ever lose a taste for, and even if I should ever find myself without a group I'll continue to write lore and characters, to expand it to ever more harrowing locations and adventures. Anything I share is a part of Caelum, so it's a good place to start, no?
Though the name is synonymous with the domain of the gods, in whispered tones those of the Surviving Kingdoms in the North whisper of what is in the South; Where Angels Fear to Tread. From the walls of Des Nekketh one can see the Bleached Hills where the turning point in the War of Corruption was fought. From long forgotten grafs arisen dead return to claw at the walls of Astu Fides. Though the Power of the Angel of Hope still abides, once again the Hells mass. What's more, Dythan of the Scions of Arkhosia becomes ever more ambitious and bold in his efforts to restore the Dragonborn to glory.
Where Angels Fear to Tread, the wretched heath that threatens to swallow what remains of Caelum, is home to every manor of abomination. The Undead are conjured in hordes, Demons and Fallen Angels have free reign. The former cities of Caelum are now the Thrones of Lich, Vampire, and Demon Lords. And Eden, once the Gem of the Empire is now the Maw of Hell and the throne from which Orcus, God of Death reigns.
All of this stems from the Betrayal of Ihsan. Ihsan the Weak. Ihsan the Fallen. Ihsan the Traitor. He brought darkness
into a world in which none had existed before. Bound to the God of Death as an eternal servant, Orcus' imagining of the Pact Ihsan made for immortality. With his pact, the City of the Gods became the gateway through which hell poured out. The Corruption spread quickly, as untold thousands of the Sons of Caelum died trying to stem the tide and give the refugees time to flee north, away from the hellscape that was rapidly consuming their beloved home.'
A world ordained by the gods was falling. In the North, the impassable bulwarks of the Arkhosian Desert and Morradin's Shield would be the setting for the final stand of Mortal creatures. Though Pelor intervened, and his Archangel of Hope led those remained against the darkness. Though the carnage of the battlefield stretched for miles, the tide was turned. The people of the Surviving Kingdoms in the North are protected by the Des, a river blessed by her hand, and faith in her still wields true power.
Yet with each passing day, it seems, the power of Hope dims. She is seen less and less often, and the divine power which is wielded against the darkness seems to lose its potency as attacks become increasingly aggressive. Though it has been more than a century since the corruption, only now do the Hells seem to once again reassert themselves. And while Hope was enough to rebuke it, now comes the question of whether it can do so once again in the shadow of the full might wielded by the God of Death.