Atlantis

“Of all the regions of the shattered earth, none feel more unearthly than Atlantis.”

Of all the regions of the shattered earth, none feel more unearthly than Atlantis. Rising from the northern seas like a crown of crystal and brass, the Atlantean continent glitters with impossible wealth and shardcraft wonder. Its cities were not merely built, they were wrested from the earth using sheer will and shard magic. Each palace and harbor powered by conduits of arcane energy so vast that their brilliance can be felt from miles out at sea.

Where Europa clawed out survival from the ashes of old, and Cascadia was built and rebuilt by invention and innovation, Atlantis simply thrived. Fed by riches no other land could rival, it holds the greatest reserve of raw shardisite in the world, and has never learned what scarcity means.

Atlantean navies scour the oceans, its airships darken the skies, and its coin floods every market in the world. Yet for all its splendor, Atlantis feels more dream than nation. A place where time runs differently, where masks and pageants matter as much as armies, and where the line between machine, arcana, and mortal has blurred beyond recognition.

The United Monarchies of Atlantis is not a single nation, but a confederation of crowns. Eleven ancient monarchies are bound by the Crown Compact, a pact over a thousand years old that has outlived dynasties, faiths, and even the seas themselves. Each kingdom retains its own banners, courts, customs, and hereditary rulers, yet all kneel to the High Monarch in Atlantis. The Compact preserves the illusion of sovereignty while demanding fealty, binding the kingdoms together through tradition so old it has become indistinguishable from law.

Authority, however, is not vested solely in ceremony. Enforcement belongs to the Eleventh Kingdom. Known as the Warforged Kingdom or officially as the United Guard of Atlantis, it is a kingdom without land, bloodlines, or dissent, loyal only to the Compact and the throne that embodies it. Where the other monarchies rule by pageantry, lineage, and myth, the Eleventh Kingdom rules by function. It does not negotiate. It does not age. It endures, ensuring that Atlantis remains unified not by conquest, but by the quiet certainty that the Compact will always be enforced.

The city of Atlantis itself is built in concentric rings, its inner districts rising like terraces of jade and glass. At its heart, the High Monarch’s palace is capped by a spire of crystal visible even in daylight, a beacon for fleets returning from the horizon.

Atlantis is a paradox: decadent to the point of grotesque, yet also the cutting edge of shardcraft and war.

• Shard-Reactor Cities: The largest shard-reactors in the world pulse beneath Atlantean streets, powering whole cities with emerald fire. Lanterns never dim, fountains never still, and automata parade alongside citizens in endless festivals.
• Living Pageantry: Every season brings new spectacles: masquerades with masks of living porcelain, carnivals lit by floating shard-globes, and tournaments where duelists wield impossibly magical weapons.
• The Golden Fleet: Atlantean airships and dreadnoughts are floating cathedrals of oak, brass, and jade. Engraved with arcane script and held aloft by shard fueled dynamos and enchantments.
• The Mines of Crux: Unlike other nations that rely on dwindling reserves, Atlantis still feeds on raw Shardisite drawn from the island of Crux. The caverns of Crux are said to glow brighter than the sun, and miners wear full body protection against the constant threat of shard blight.
• The United Guard The United Guard is treated as a kingdom in its own right even though it holds no lands and crowns no king. Warforged legions march from fortress-garrisons scattered across the isles. They answer to none but the High Monarch, and the Crown Compact itself. The imposing shadow of their merciless enforcement falls across every throne in the Union.

For all its majesty, Atlantis harbors shadows deep enough to drown in.

• Drowned Vaults: Entire dynasties’ failed experiments lie in flooded caverns: warforged prototypes, shard engines that warp time, and aberrations never meant to surface.
• Mask Societies: Behind gilded facades, nobles gather in masked orders whose intrigues ripple across continents. A single masked duel may topple a house or start a war abroad.
• Shard Excess: Nowhere else is Shardisite used with such abandon. Madness, mutation, and shard-blight are hidden behind silken curtains and polite exile. Some whisper entire palaces vanish for weeks, swallowed by green fire.
• The Southern Storms: Uppernavik’s storm-wrights weave weather into barriers or weapons. Traders call it the “Storm Gate,” for no fleet passes south without their blessing.