Welcome to Krynn

If you’ve never set foot on Krynn before, welcome. You’re probably going to regret that eventually.

The place is old, older than the kingdoms currently squabbling over who owns which patch of it, older than most of its roads, older than anyone still around to remember why the roads go where they do. Forests that swallow entire valleys. Mountains that make the sky look small. Villages tucked wherever someone once decided “yeah, this’ll do,” and cities built straight into cliffsides because flat ground was for people with less ambition.

Elves keep their kingdoms and their grudges close. Dwarves keep theirs closer, and somehow angrier. Kender will shake your hand and introduce themselves while your coin purse quietly changes ownership, they’ll call it borrowing, and they’ll believe it, right up until the day they die.

Krynn is beautiful. It’s also, right now, having something of a crisis.

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The Silence of the Gods

For a few hundred years, the gods have been gone. Nobody agrees on why. Pride, grief, some old mistake nobody wants to own up to, but whatever the reason, they left silence behind when they went.

No gods meant no miracles. Priests kept praying out of habit more than hope, and nothing answered back. The people who used to heal the sick with a word learned to do it with herbs, bandages, and whatever their grandparents could still remember. Faith didn’t vanish all at once, it faded the way almost everything does, one generation at a time, until it was just a story parents told children who were too young to know better.

Lately, that’s started to change. A prayer that gets answered when it shouldn’t. Someone swearing they felt something look back when they called into the dark. Nobody’s sure yet what it means.

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The Dragon Armies

As if Krynn needed another problem, there’s an army on the move, and it isn’t a subtle one.

The Dragon Highlords are exactly what you’d picture when you hear “generals who ride dragons”. Conquerors with no particular interest in negotiating with whatever happens to be standing between them and what they’ve decided is theirs. Their armies are vast and moving steadily, without much caring who’s in the way. Some towns resist. Some don’t. It rarely changes much in the end.

Marching with them are the draconians. Soldiers built for war rather than born into it, loyal to nothing but the army that made them. They don’t die easily, and more than a few soldiers have found that out the hard way. Wherever the Highlords go, control follows close behind: roads watched, towns occupied, people learning fast what happens when they make the wrong kind of noise.

It isn’t peace. It’s what fear looks like once someone’s organised it properly.

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The Knights of Solamnia

Krynn hasn’t entirely forgotten how to fight back, though.

For years the Knights of Solamnia were treated as relics. Old men clinging to an old code in a world that had supposedly moved on without them. Turns out the world hadn’t moved on quite as far as everyone assumed. The Knights still hold to the same oath their ancestors did: Est Sularus oth Mithas. My Honour Is My Life. Three orders, each with its own idea of what that honour actually demands, which mostly means they agree on very little except that someone has to stand in front of the Dragon Armies when they come.

The Knights will be that someone. Whether that’s wise is a separate question, and not one they’re especially interested in answering.

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The Mages of High Sorcery

Magic on Krynn comes with rules, and the rules exist for a reason: the last time magic ran loose and unregulated, it very nearly tore the world apart. What came after was the Wizards of High Sorcery. Three orders, each bound to one of the three moons overhead, each answering to different ideas of what magic is for.

White Robes serve the light. Black Robes serve the dark, without much apology. Red Robes serve neither, which unsettles everyone on every side about equally. Getting into any of the three isn’t as simple as learning a few spells. Every apprentice eventually faces the Test, a rite built to prove they can be trusted with real power. Pass, and you’re changed for good. Fail, and there often isn’t much left to argue about.

It’s a brutal system. It’s also the only reason Krynn hasn’t had a second magical catastrophe to match the first…

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War!

Krynn has survived wars before. It’s survived the gods leaving. It’s survived magical disasters and political ones and no small number of people making catastrophically bad decisions in the heat of the moment.

This time it’s all happening at once. The Dragon Armies are on the move in the exact moment the old stories are starting to look less like stories. The gods may be waking up. The Knights are working out what their ancient oath actually means in a world that mostly stopped believing in it. Nobody, not the Knights, not the Mages, not the people watching the horizon, knows how any of it ends.

Every legend on Krynn starts smaller than this, though. A handful of strangers. A rumour that seems worth chasing. A job that sounds simple enough.

That’s how it always begins. It never stays simple for long…

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Where does your road lead? Book your seat here.