Coin buys time. Faith buys trouble. Folly buys glory. Vice buys the round.

Welcome to The Confederacy of Talvyr, a half-ruined peace with just enough stability that life continues. Roughly a century has come and gone since the passing of the titular Saint Talvyr Amrathir. It was once said that the realm would never fracture again.

But Saints die. Even elven ones. His time was not necessarily recognized as an era of peace so much as an era of unity. An era marked by his armies marching under the Lady's banner; The Lady of Love and War. Saint Talvyr broke the dominion of darker creeds and forced the country to communicate.

Across the Confederacy, people argue over his legacy. To some he was a Redeemer-Saint, and to others jokingly called "the conqueror least cruel". Was the man a tyrant softened by mercy, or a saint fiercely tempered by guilt? The Confederacy endures in name and habit, dominated by bickering city-states and a volatile culture.

Beyond the borders, other and greater powers stir, and even edge of the world awaits those bold enough to dream of it. The gods have always admired fools.

But today, that is not your concern. Today? Rain, taverns, schemes, and second chances. Pursuits of glory, fighting, building, and lying. Coin, faith, folly, and vice.