On 20 Olarune 994YK Cyre died. In her place was left a wasted land in perpetual twilight, twisted by The Mourning, and completely surrounded by a Dead Grey Mist. This land became known as The Mournland.
Neither natural nor magical healing works within the bounds of The Dead Grey Mist, but by the grace of some benevolence the Paladin’s ability to Lay on Hands, and the Goodberry still work as normal. Some areas in The Mournland warp the flows of Arcane energy so sometimes spells don’t have the outcome expected.
If these were the only dangers passing through The Dead Grey Mist would happen much more often, but in The Mournland spells live, twisted, grotesque monsters roam feeding on whatever they kill, and then there are The Warforged.
Warforged do not heal naturally, and the Artificer’s ability to Repair Damage still works perfectly well withing the bounds of what was the “Jewel of Gallifar”, so it is the perfect place for them to gather and form their own nation.
Enter: The Lord of Blades. Called a Leader by most, a Prophet by some, and a God by few. Whether those things are true is still a question, but to call The Lord of Blades a revolutionary is nothing but the cold, hard, honest truth. Warforged enter The Mournland every day seeking this enigmatic figure. Some seek guidance or a purpose, a nation and homeland for The Warforged, and some seek War.
The Mournland is alive with constructs.