“Ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time.”


At the depths of the channel between Abier and Faerun, deeper than any human can survive, there is a rent into the Plane of Water torn during a battle of titanic forces from time immemorial.

While the leviathans and krakens are the least dangerous monstrosities to squeeze through the Sword Rift to this Realm, they are the ones sailors must always brave when navigating the narrow seas between nations. Potent magic, strength in sheer numbers and firepower, or flying are the only ways to travel between nations without a land border.

Two decades ago, Faerun lost most of her naval fleet and her three airships, leaving only twelve in existence, during a volcanic cataclysm from which Neverwinter has been slow to recover. Our story begins in that city…

The Drowned Realm

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