The Rusted Isles
Sail northwest from the Under Sea and the mainland falls away. What replaces it is not a destination but a scattering: dozens of islands flung across the water, each one different in size, structure, and temperament. The Rusted Isles have no uniting government, no shared banner, and no common purpose beyond the water that separates them. People come here for isolation, for business, for independence, or because they have always been here and see no reason to leave. Many pass through on their way to open ocean. Some of those never come back.
The Deception Islands guard themselves. Profound depths, heavy undertow, sharp rocks, and the wreckage of ships that tried to approach without a guide make the waterways nearly impassable for outsiders. The Mari-Mari Tribe lives here: island-born Natural Ones descended from horse-backed warriors, a matriarchal society led by the wisest among them, known simply as "The Mari." They raise incredibly fast horses, farm the lush terrain, and conduct contests of warrior prowess that keep their combat skills sharp. The islands themselves are rich with natural growth and wildlife, protected from outside influence by the treacherous approaches that have wrecked more ships than anyone has bothered to count. The Mari-Mari live with the environment rather than against it, ensuring they do not overhunt or overfarm.
The Island of Olympus is a contradiction visitors never quite resolve. Buildings of debatable age form a compound that might be cleverly constructed Genjian replicas or mint-condition pre-Fall architecture lovingly maintained across generations. The Shinsei Society lives here: a Genjian contingent dedicated to recovering and cataloguing lost pre-Fall artifacts. Their leader, Shao Deng, claims she is a fourth-generation member, too old for adventuring now, spending her days curating a living museum filled with relics of the world that was. The island itself is beautiful. Massive trees, clean-water lakes, and streams surround buildings with enormous glass windows stretching twenty feet into the air. Beneath it all, a massive infrastructure of corridors and laboratories runs experiments on recovered artifacts, trying to recreate the spark of the forgotten world.
The Temple of Helen is isolated for a reason. An active volcano bubbles and smokes at the island's center, and the Accensorites who worship there, the Children of Helen, consider it a nature spirit that judges the faithful. They build huts along the volcanic base and climb closer to the mouth to prove their devotion. If a crime is committed, the accused is brought to the caldera; innocence means survival, guilt means the lava consumes them. The island glows at night with a fiery red-orange that can be seen from neighboring islands. Outsiders are not welcome. The first arrivals learned this when a massive eruption consumed villages along the outskirts.
Saint Everett is the Green Cross's domain. Rocky, steep shores give way to a large rusted barbed wire fence encircling the entire island. Off-white banners bearing massive green crosses line the roads, walkways, and buildings. Admiral Francis Redford, a tall, muscular man with a tightly trimmed grey beard, founded this compound over twenty years ago with a group of Fallow Hopes explorers. The Green Cross identifies, transports, and distributes naturally occurring medicinal remedies along the entire Rust Empire coastline through their Dispensaries of Hope. They are one of the few faith organizations that travel through Red Star territories unmolested, a testament to the value of what they carry. Armed with high-quality Genjian firearms, the compound is equal parts hospital and fortress.
South Beach rounds out the chain. A multi-mile copse of trees in the middle of the island chain, it is home to the Lumbering Union, a Merican logging operation led by Brodell Franklin. Stocky, barrel-armed, and crooked-backed from decades of physical labor, Franklin has cornered the market on wood products in the Northwest. His loggers have discovered pre-Fall buildings reclaimed by earth and set up shop among the ruins. The wildlife is plentiful but so are the predators. Loggers have gone missing in the woods, and shadowy figures among the trees have prompted speculation about Lascarian or Semper Mort presence. The Lumbering Union members wear their patch without hesitation: two crossed axes over a Merican flag.
Somewhere beyond the charted islands, massive naval ships have been sighted. Rusted and rumbling, the size of buildings, they carve through the waters bearing flags of the Cult of the Fallow Hopes and an enormous green cross. Nobody knows where they are going. Nobody has been able to follow them long enough to find out.
The Deception Islands guard themselves. Profound depths, heavy undertow, sharp rocks, and the wreckage of ships that tried to approach without a guide make the waterways nearly impassable for outsiders. The Mari-Mari Tribe lives here: island-born Natural Ones descended from horse-backed warriors, a matriarchal society led by the wisest among them, known simply as "The Mari." They raise incredibly fast horses, farm the lush terrain, and conduct contests of warrior prowess that keep their combat skills sharp. The islands themselves are rich with natural growth and wildlife, protected from outside influence by the treacherous approaches that have wrecked more ships than anyone has bothered to count. The Mari-Mari live with the environment rather than against it, ensuring they do not overhunt or overfarm.
The Island of Olympus is a contradiction visitors never quite resolve. Buildings of debatable age form a compound that might be cleverly constructed Genjian replicas or mint-condition pre-Fall architecture lovingly maintained across generations. The Shinsei Society lives here: a Genjian contingent dedicated to recovering and cataloguing lost pre-Fall artifacts. Their leader, Shao Deng, claims she is a fourth-generation member, too old for adventuring now, spending her days curating a living museum filled with relics of the world that was. The island itself is beautiful. Massive trees, clean-water lakes, and streams surround buildings with enormous glass windows stretching twenty feet into the air. Beneath it all, a massive infrastructure of corridors and laboratories runs experiments on recovered artifacts, trying to recreate the spark of the forgotten world.
The Temple of Helen is isolated for a reason. An active volcano bubbles and smokes at the island's center, and the Accensorites who worship there, the Children of Helen, consider it a nature spirit that judges the faithful. They build huts along the volcanic base and climb closer to the mouth to prove their devotion. If a crime is committed, the accused is brought to the caldera; innocence means survival, guilt means the lava consumes them. The island glows at night with a fiery red-orange that can be seen from neighboring islands. Outsiders are not welcome. The first arrivals learned this when a massive eruption consumed villages along the outskirts.
Saint Everett is the Green Cross's domain. Rocky, steep shores give way to a large rusted barbed wire fence encircling the entire island. Off-white banners bearing massive green crosses line the roads, walkways, and buildings. Admiral Francis Redford, a tall, muscular man with a tightly trimmed grey beard, founded this compound over twenty years ago with a group of Fallow Hopes explorers. The Green Cross identifies, transports, and distributes naturally occurring medicinal remedies along the entire Rust Empire coastline through their Dispensaries of Hope. They are one of the few faith organizations that travel through Red Star territories unmolested, a testament to the value of what they carry. Armed with high-quality Genjian firearms, the compound is equal parts hospital and fortress.
South Beach rounds out the chain. A multi-mile copse of trees in the middle of the island chain, it is home to the Lumbering Union, a Merican logging operation led by Brodell Franklin. Stocky, barrel-armed, and crooked-backed from decades of physical labor, Franklin has cornered the market on wood products in the Northwest. His loggers have discovered pre-Fall buildings reclaimed by earth and set up shop among the ruins. The wildlife is plentiful but so are the predators. Loggers have gone missing in the woods, and shadowy figures among the trees have prompted speculation about Lascarian or Semper Mort presence. The Lumbering Union members wear their patch without hesitation: two crossed axes over a Merican flag.
Somewhere beyond the charted islands, massive naval ships have been sighted. Rusted and rumbling, the size of buildings, they carve through the waters bearing flags of the Cult of the Fallow Hopes and an enormous green cross. Nobody knows where they are going. Nobody has been able to follow them long enough to find out.
Geography
The Rusted Isles scatter across the northwest waters off the coast from the Under Sea, a broken chain with no unifying geography beyond the ocean that separates and connects them. Some islands still remain unlocated or uninhabited, making the chain one of the greatest areas for exploration, particularly for Genjian and Accensorites seeking resources of old. A small empire of ships has sailed out to find lost lands or travel to places not marked on local maps. Most return empty-handed. Some have never been seen again.
The Deception Islands occupy some of the most treacherous waterways in the chain. Profound depths give way to sudden shallows. Heavy undertow pulls vessels off course. Sharp rocks and the broken hulls of wrecked ships mark the approaches. Without a knowledgeable boatman, it is nearly impossible to reach shore without losing a vessel. Behind that natural barrier, the islands are lush: rich with natural growth, wildlife, and terrain that supports the Mari-Mari Tribe's farming and horse-raising without strain.
The Island of Olympus is an anomaly of preservation. Nearly untouched nature surrounds the Shinsei Society compound: massive trees, clean-water lakes, and streams that flow clear. The buildings feature enormous glass windows that stretch twenty feet into the air, and beneath them lies a subterranean complex of corridors and laboratories far larger than the surface structures suggest.
The Temple of Helen exists in isolation imposed by geology. An active volcano occupies the island's center, smoking and bubbling with irregular frequency. The volcanic base supports the hut settlements of the Children of Helen, built from hardened volcanic rock. The mountain produces crippling magma flows that course down the slopes without warning. The island glows at night, a fiery beacon visible across miles of open water.
Saint Everett is rocky and steep-shored, its natural terrain as unwelcoming as the rusted barbed wire fence that encircles the island. The Green Cross has transformed the grey, soulless landscape into a functional compound: roads lined with green-cross banners, medical facilities, armories, and horticulture gardens growing the herbal remedies that supply the Dispensaries of Hope along the coastline.
South Beach is densely forested, a multi-mile copse of trees that hides pre-Fall buildings reclaimed by earth and root systems. The timber is the island's primary resource, and the wildlife that thrives in the forest canopy draws both loggers and the predators that hunt them. The interior remains only partially explored, and the shadowy figures reported among the deeper trees suggest the Lumbering Union shares the island with residents it has not yet identified.
The Deception Islands occupy some of the most treacherous waterways in the chain. Profound depths give way to sudden shallows. Heavy undertow pulls vessels off course. Sharp rocks and the broken hulls of wrecked ships mark the approaches. Without a knowledgeable boatman, it is nearly impossible to reach shore without losing a vessel. Behind that natural barrier, the islands are lush: rich with natural growth, wildlife, and terrain that supports the Mari-Mari Tribe's farming and horse-raising without strain.
The Island of Olympus is an anomaly of preservation. Nearly untouched nature surrounds the Shinsei Society compound: massive trees, clean-water lakes, and streams that flow clear. The buildings feature enormous glass windows that stretch twenty feet into the air, and beneath them lies a subterranean complex of corridors and laboratories far larger than the surface structures suggest.
The Temple of Helen exists in isolation imposed by geology. An active volcano occupies the island's center, smoking and bubbling with irregular frequency. The volcanic base supports the hut settlements of the Children of Helen, built from hardened volcanic rock. The mountain produces crippling magma flows that course down the slopes without warning. The island glows at night, a fiery beacon visible across miles of open water.
Saint Everett is rocky and steep-shored, its natural terrain as unwelcoming as the rusted barbed wire fence that encircles the island. The Green Cross has transformed the grey, soulless landscape into a functional compound: roads lined with green-cross banners, medical facilities, armories, and horticulture gardens growing the herbal remedies that supply the Dispensaries of Hope along the coastline.
South Beach is densely forested, a multi-mile copse of trees that hides pre-Fall buildings reclaimed by earth and root systems. The timber is the island's primary resource, and the wildlife that thrives in the forest canopy draws both loggers and the predators that hunt them. The interior remains only partially explored, and the shadowy figures reported among the deeper trees suggest the Lumbering Union shares the island with residents it has not yet identified.
