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The World of Iron Realms
A continent of a hundred quarrels, older than the memory of its maesters. These are the lands you will fight over, the powers that shape them, and the deep mysteries that stir beneath the snow. All of it original — an invented realm of our own making.
The shape of the realm
The known world is a long continent that runs from a sun-warmed south to a frozen, wall-guarded north. Great rivers cut it into regions, each with its own temper: golden farmland and old gold-mines, storm-lashed coasts and drowned isles, deep forests where the old gods are still heard, and the white silence of the far North. Where you settle your keep decides the terrain you fight on, the weather you weather, and the neighbours who will test your walls.
The regions
The Crownlands
The seat of the realm's throne — richest, most contested, and the prize every great alliance covets in the Conquest Season.
The Golden Reach
Broad farmland and fat granaries. Slow to anger, deadly when roused; the breadbasket that feeds a war.
The Storm Coast
Cliffs, squalls, and hard lords who count a shipwreck a fair harvest. Raiders sail from here.
The Old Forest
Weirwood groves and green shadow, where the old gods keep their silence and wargs are whispered of.
The Iron Hills
Cold stone and colder gold. Mines that never empty and clans that never forgive a slight.
The Frozen North
Beyond the last holdfasts lies the Wall, and beyond it the Long Night's own country. Few keeps, fewer friends.
The seasons turn
Iron Realms keeps no idle calendar. A season lasts seven real days, and each reshapes the world beneath your keep — the map dresses in spring green, high-summer gold, autumn rust, and the white of deep winter. The sky even mirrors the real weather of the world outside your window.
The dread of them all is the Long Night: winter's deepest watch, when the cold bites hardest, movement slows, and the wilds grow bold. The lords who prepared press their advantage while the unready hunker down. When the season turns, the White Ravens of the Citadel fly to herald it — and leave a gift for the attentive.
Powers of the realm
The Great Houses
Player alliances and NPC dynasties alike, each a banner with its own war-titles, forts, and ambitions.
The Citadel
The order of maesters — keepers of the ravens, the seasons, and the realm's long memory.
The Ironvault
Braavos-that-isn't: a bank that will fund a war… at interest. Leverage is a blade with two edges.
The Faceless
A guild of masks and quiet deaths, whose coin is secrets and whose service is never cheap.
The Free Companies
Sellswords and NPC lords who raid, seize seats, and band together — the realm fights back even between player wars.
The Dragonkind
Wyrms raised from egg to warbeast — the oldest power of all, and the rarest edge a lord can bring to a field.
Seats of Power
Scattered across the map stand the Seats of Power — fortified holds that pay an alliance-wide bonus to whoever holds them, marked by more or fewer stars for their strength and prestige. Taking one is a night's coordinated siege; holding it is a season-long vigil against every rival who wants it back. The grandest of them all is the realm's throne, the heart of every Conquest Season.
Mysteries beneath the snow
The realm keeps secrets its maesters only half-believe. Valyrian-steel blades that hold an edge no forge can match. Weirwood trees with faces that are said to watch. Wargs who slip their skins to run with wolves. A faith of Seven and older gods besides. None of it is idle decoration — each is a system to discover in play, a thread of the deeper world for the lord who goes looking.