This is a compendium for The Shattered Continent campaign setting for Pathfinder. It is currently under construction.

The Shattered Continent

Time moves on. Life has always followed war. Endless accounts of various races set out upon each other. Yet, none were as bloody as the Evetmentus War. Evetmentus was a young prince and the only heir of the human kingdom of Se Bailesco. An adept fighter and scholar, his interest not only restricted to those, he was also a humanitarian. His ascension to his throne was highly anticipated, so much that his father often jested that he himself would commit suicide so his son may rule. One day, in a sparring match, Evetmentus was slain in by his close friend, Austier Norstyn, whom was also a diplomat to Se Bailesco from the Elven nation. The city was distraught, a great leader torn from them, and they demanded retribution. However, the King pardoned Norstyn and allowed him to return to his land. The city was in an uproar, they would hear it. A revolt reared its bloody head and tore the King from his throne and Selachii, a prominent general of the Bailesco forces, raised himself to take the seat and head the siege for justice. Marching themselves to the Capital city for one man. The elves denied them and thus began the war.

Each race built their own war machines but only met one another with devices of equal malice and vice. One day, an artificer created an enormous tower which he claims would destroy entire cities. In his bid to appropriate the highest amount for his efforts he allowed a demonstration and an auction of the device. However, something went wrong or didn’t. The device succeeded in its purpose of utter destruction. The tower sundered the land crumbled mountains, emptied lakes, swallowed entire cities. The effect was profound, after the blinding flare of the tower; the factions open their eyes for the first time. They laid their eyes on the destruction in their lands and shrugged off the ugly vicious mask they have donned and laid down their arms and signed a peach oath.

That was one-thousand, three-hundred, and thirty seven years ago. Today, those broken mountains stand in ranges, open crevices filled into lakes, and cities are rebuilt. None now remember the flash of the light that scarred the world, only its legends. A Selachii is no longer on the throne, having bequeath the position to others and taking up the mantle of protectors and proprietors of not only human welfare but welfare of other races. Building universities to cultivate young minds with unbridled talents, from arcane affinities or verisimilitude with fighting, open for all races near and far. The name Norstyn has become long forgotten, his crime unpunished and its purposes unknown along with his descendents fall out of the annals of history. Evetmentus will always be remembered as the King Who Never Was, a celebration celebrating his birth is still held every year, the tragic event now an excuse for riotous jubilee. And as for the warlord, his race unknown, his name erased. But time moves on.