The not-immortal Blacksmith

Let us turn for a moment from our 'Hero', a simple man who just wants to live his life until he can die and be reunited with his one true love. A man with more titles than he knows, or cares about. A man with titles like Master Smith, Master Tinker, Lieutenant at arms (and the noble title of Baronet – Unlanded), Godfather (in several meanings of the word), Grandfather, Family Head, Savior, Friend (and enemy) of gods, and The Heretic, to name just a few.

A man who will shortly be heading to a competition of arms with his best friend, who just happens to be a god.

But as I said earlier, let us turn from him and look at the wider world. To the north of the five kingdoms thus far mentioned, and just above the demon lands (or Demon Wastes, or Desert of Demons), is the Kingdom under the Mountains, a Dwarven kingdom rarely seen by outsiders. Beholden to the God Bjorn, and ruled by King Swifthammer, it is prosperous. Recently, the kingdom has been troubled by small tremors, as though a sleeping giant is stirring in it's slumber.

Below the Dwarven kingdom is another kingdom, long forgotten by all but a few. The kingdom of the dark. A place for people who were cast out of the upper world by an angry god, and taken in by one with no love for them, but with compassion for their plight. Strange people with large eyes that would put goblins to shame, pale almost translucent skin, and a slightly hunched form.

To the east of the kingdoms are the unsettled lands. Lands that contain the proud Orc people of the foothills, tall and strong, they are the protectors of the 'Green Skin' peoples, as they were directed by there long dead god, Gobb. They farm, and hunt, and build small villages in which to house there clans. Once they were violent, raiding the 'non-green', but now are peaceful folk who are starting to enjoy the fine things in life.

In the far northeast are the Gnolls. A proud canid like race of hunters and trackers, who live the wandering lifestyle while herding sheep and goats. They have few cities, and interact rarely with the other races.

In between these settled lands, both to the east and the west, are small towns and farm holds, places of trading where all the races meet, interact, and live. It is not uncommon to find ex-bandits living beside failed nobles. Orcs and Goblins living with humans and Elves. Gnolls escorting flocks to market, to be resold to more 'civilized' markets. But outside of these small places, here there be monsters.

These unsettled regions breed monsters of all types, and monsters of the 'more civilized kind'. The Wyvern and drake of the far flung mountains. The Kobald and Lizardfolk of the great wood, locked in their millennia old battle for supremacy. The Lamia and Naga of the planes and desert. Worgs roam all of the lands, eating anything they feel inclined to consume.

Most of all, are the Dragons. Creatures of magic and intelligence, they dwell on the highest peaks, or the lowest of swamps. Lairs hidden and protected by magic and traps. They live mostly secluded lives, raising a clutch of hatchlings every handful of hundred years to entertain themselves, before throwing them out of the nest to make their own way in the lands. The most common of the dragons are the red and the green, both of whom breath fire. There are others, but little is known of them.

Across the world many things are happening. A babe cries for it's mother, dead in a bandit raid. A boy stares at a wall covered in bloody writing. A dark shape rolls over in it's slumber. A single tree has released it's seed to the winds, and it's children slowly grow in a grove around it. Somewhere, in the bottom of a long lost and forgotten dungeon that was once a town, inside a rotten chest, sits a cut glass vial full of yellow liquid. An old demon sits and laughs in delight at a letter received from his niece. A pack of wolves howl, as one of there own has ascended to her next form. A young ratkin apprentice has learned his first spell. A small god of elegant speech argues loudly with a full god on the meaning behind THAC0. And somewhere in a distant land, lovers meet under an apple tree.

The miracles of life and death are observed the world over.

And then there are gods.

These are not the Gods of old, of creation. Nay, these are young gods, barely six millennia old. This batch of gods is petty, and short sighted. Out for personal gain and one-upmanship. Squandering their power on things trivial, as opposed to things that 'matter'. Things that matter, like the recurring demon invasions from the void gate buried deep in the world. Or the probing of the beings from beyond time and space, who fight the old gods to a standstill, and still wait for an opening, any opening, to again re-enter this world. Given time, they may mature. Or they may not.

There are the 12 of the council; who rule and reside in the celestial realm. The 'Big 12' as they are known, stand for concept of peoples beliefs. Dysher, God of Healing; Narissa Goddess of Tranquility and Peace; Maximilian, God of War; Ilaldin, Goddess of the Afterlife; Trixie, Goddess of Deception; Bjorn, the Dwarf God of Crafting; Aaroness, God of the Sea; Esmeralda, the Gnome Goddess of Knowledge; Kocha, God of Chaos; Xames, God of Love; Thaeyr, God of Order ; and Eeyr, God of Hope. There is no longer a god of nature, for that path is forbidden.

Several dozen 'lesser' gods, who work under or around the 12, also reside in the celestial realm. Gods like Greymore god of elves and trees. Honor, Vengeance, Chastity, Luck, Pleasure, and others.

Least of the gods, are the 'small gods'. Gods of small concepts, or small peoples. Or fallen gods such as Ghondish, the goat god of eating stuff, friend of Gobb the Silly.

Outside of all this, on 'his' own plane, death sits on a pale horse, slowly waiting for this world too also die.