Once the mightiest dominion of the known world, the Khuris Empire has never forgotten what it believes it is owed. An ancient grievance — a deal struck long ago that the Khuris claim was never honoured — has festered across generations into something that no treaty has been able to settle. King Valemar of Alasia suspects the Marauder incursions originate here. He is probably right.

A Dwarven kingdom of the western continent, Dan Badir is known less for what has been discovered about it than for what hasn't. Its people rarely emerge. Its borders are never mapped the same way twice. What lies within its mountain depths remains, by design, unknown.

No king holds dominion here. The Wildlands answer only to ancient forces that predate civilisation — and to things that have no name.

A chain of warm, jungle-covered islands scattered across the southern sea — beautiful from a distance and lethal up close. The ruins of Ecagos, a civilisation that no living people can name with certainty, lie half-consumed by the undergrowth. Whatever ended them left no clear record. The jungle has been filling the silence ever since.

Where the first great war scorched the earth bare, nothing grows. A wound in the world that refuses to heal — and the tribes who call it home have learned to move with the darkness rather than flee from it.

Clinging to the southwestern peninsula, the Kingdom of Sinate endures through stubbornness alone — battered by sea and shadow, it refuses to fall.

The far northern reaches beyond Aesulyn's formal borders — Ijovar is lawless, storm-lashed, and shaped by a silence that was not always there. The Asakal once ruled these frozen lands. The First War took most of them. What remains is a wilderness that remembers what it lost.

A vast desert kingdom ruled by the Namite people, Aesulyn commands its neighbours through strength, diplomacy, and calculated terror in equal measure. Beneath its shifting sands lie ruins older than its current dynasty — and secrets that King Akhem's court would prefer remained buried.

A vast region of blackened rock and living fire, Brittleheim is not a place that welcomes the living. Active volcanoes split the landscape. Sulphuric gas drifts across the plains in choking curtains. And somewhere in the ash and the heat, the Infurnus lizard moves — patient, fire-breathing, and entirely at home in conditions that kill most things that enter.

A realm of ancient forests, Cliodaven is beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Its people commune with things older than memory, in groves where outsiders are not welcome — and the creatures that share those forests are unlike anything found elsewhere in Arghost.

The Realm of Abras occupies the great mountain belt of the east — a hard land of stone fortresses, iron faith, and warriors who have never known defeat on their own ground.

The Kingdom of Alasia sprawls across the fertile central plains — wealthy, fractious, and perpetually at war with itself even as it faces threats from without. Its riches make it a prize. Its divisions make it vulnerable.

Remote, storm-lashed, and deliberately difficult to reach — the Isle of Thunder is home to the Seekers, a order of scholars devoted to the preservation and study of ancient texts. What they have gathered within their archives represents the most complete record of Arghost's history in existence.

Carved into the great peaks of Thal Kuldohr, Thrardeag is a kingdom built downward rather than out. Its Dwarven people have tunnelled deep into the mountain's bones — mining, crafting, and keeping their own counsel while the surface world turns above them. Beneath the lowest levels, something older than the kingdom itself still stirs.

Illadrel is the ancient home of the Elves — a vast forested realm woven into the heart of Atheron over centuries of patient habitation. Its canopy runs deep and its creatures run free. Its people are hunters, craftspeople, and traders who count themselves friends to all races. They do not conquer. They do not expand. They simply endure, and the forest endures with them.

No ship willingly drops anchor at the Isle of Thorns. Dense forest and thorny underbrush choke every visible path from the shore inward — and nothing that has entered to map it has returned to finish the work.

The great inland sea that divides east from west, the Woodding Sea has borne the weight of a thousand wars — and the creatures that live in its depths have witnessed them all.

The vast eastern ocean — deep beyond any reliable measure, and restless in ways that suggest something other than weather. No ship that has sailed east long enough has ever returned to say what lies beyond the horizon.

The frozen northern sea, locked in ice for most of the year. Navigable only in the brief warmth of high summer — and even then, only by those who know its moods. It is quieter now than it once was.

The sheltered bay that cradles the Kingdom of Sinate, the Bay of Ellingnet is famed for its rich fishing grounds — and infamous for the wrecks that line its floor.

The dark waters of the Blackwater Strait run between Thrardeag and the Isle of Thorns. Sailors say the water here is always cold, regardless of the season.

Named for the startling green of its shallows, the Emerald Bay is the eastern gateway to the Woodding Sea and the busiest anchorage on the eastern continent.

A sheltered inlet off the Woodding Sea that looks calmer than it is. The Bay of Kindale is home to a family of Raldreth — and no fisherman who knows the waters will go near it.

The northwestern bay that cuts into the Khuris coastline, the Bay of Dannora is the empire's only warm-water port — and the most heavily fortified harbour in the known world.