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Name of Setting: Ambervale
Genre: Fantasy
It was a generic fantasy world. Swords and sorcery, nobles and peasants, countless races of creatures living in the world. Nothing special or memorable, no person or country or other facet that made it stand out.
And then the Freeze came. A blue, faint miasma, that came from the north, and froze nearly everything it touched. The immediate areas would near instantly drop in temperature, destroying the habitats it reached.
The miasma was spreading - but it was a slow spread. Survivors warned villages and towns to prepare for it.
But, for the most part, their preparations were too little, too late. Some villages had simply stockpiled, simply thinking that the miasma did nothing more then chill the area. Others attempted magic rituals to protect the area - while some worked, others did not. And the ones that did work were too small scale, or simply didn't last long enough. Villagers could not grow food, nor could they leave the area alive - they were trapped, and either starved to death, or simply froze solid once the barrier faded.
The capitals of the world, and various economic strongholds, however, survived. These places had enough wizards and sorcerers to create long term barriers, ones large enough to cover farmable land. Large trade cities had enough goods to survive, for a long time - while a few capitals, placed in protective, non-arable land, were forced to ration supplies.
But even though they were protected from the miasma, many cities still fell, due to disease, or lack of food, or the desperation that comes with being in an entrapped area with no way out.
Years passed. And the miasma faded.
Each city sent out scouts, to see what had occurred to the rest of the world. They discovered that many cities were still alive. They noted that a few plants and animals were resistant to the effects of the Freeze - they had, over the years, taken over the wilds. The scouts were quick to report back news.
The miasma was gone - but the barriers stayed. There was no clue if or when the miasma would return. Places with farms needed the climate in order to produce food - these crops had quickly become a rare commodity, and were as valuable as gold.
Over time, travel became easier. New spells, new routes, new clothing were developed and created to deal with the harshness of travel. And the harshness of cold. Even though many people had chosen to salvage what they could from the countryside, many more simply desired to live within the protection of the magic barriers.
But the barriers were not perfect. They could flicker in and out, their power could fluctuate over a period of hours. Everyone lived in fear of the Freeze. In fear of the cold.
Eventually, rumors surfaced. Of a castle, hidden in the far, far north, where the Freeze had started.
The castle would welcome only a select few. The best warriors, the best hunters, the best thieves and spies. It would recruit the masters of magic as well as the masters of seduction and pleasure.
But, in public opinion, anyone who simply managed to reach the gates would be allowed in. After all, only the strongest, the wisest, the best could survive a trek through the Freeze.
Rumor had it that in the castle was eternal warmth. It held food and comfort, and was free for anyone who could reach it.
And so, people searched. They prepared as best as they could, and began their travels.
Most would die, of course. But that was to be expected. Only the best could reach Ambervale.