Once proud and mighty, the Tabamor Empire ruled vast reaches of the continent with a fair, but firm fist, for hundreds of years, stretching back to the very limits of when scholarly records began. From the opulent city of Skie, crested atop the White Mountains with it’s glistening minarets, the Tsar’s family line ruled the empire for generation after generation.
The Tsar’s military force of warrior-nobles (for nothing was as desired or honourable in the Tabamor custom as proving oneself as a military leader – battles won were rewarded by positions of nobility, and nobles that failed to prove themselves as warriors and as leaders of men were stripped of their titles without question) rode forth from Skie whenever called upon, and enacted the rule of the Tsar upon the serfs that toiled the land. Tabamor was a rich country, trade with far-off shores of the likes of Corradin, the Azure Isles and even as far as the Aldorian Coalition bringing riches and prosperity to the land, and even the lowest serf lived a comfortable lifestyle. All were looked after by the Tsar, no matter what walk of life they led, and all loved him.
But then, a mere twenty years ago, came the Great Sundering. The General of the Tsar’s forces, T’Munzund, had been courting power among the nobles unbenownst to the Tsar, and in an massive uprising, took control of much of the army, and tried to wrest power from the throne of Skie.
The war raged for seven bitter years, entire cities laid to waste, and bodies of the fallen piled high on one another, as forces loyal to the Tsar raged against the T’Munzund rebellion. The empire began to fall, as trade and prosperity was lost, the population ravaged and scoured to the winds, and the land defiled and destroyed in the terrible conflict. But try as they might, neither side could win.
In the end, much of the mainlan that once formed the Tabamor Empire was under the control of T’Munzund, who now stylised himself as the Imperator of his new Empire, and what was left of the northern reaches of Tabamor, still under the control of what was left of the loyalists, was left under the rule of Skie.
What remains of the fallen empire now is a poor, wasted and largely lawless land. Roads have been destroyed, cities ransacked, and the loyal militia forces stretched so thin, they are barely able to control the vandals and robber knights that now take what they want from the weak that struggle to survive. The borders with Barabourg and the new T’Munzund Empire are closed, and no-one has seen or heard from the Tsar in years, for the gates of Skie remain closed, barricaded when Tabamor began to lose the war an never opened again since. The locals pray and beg for a return of the Tsar, to deliver them from the pitiful lives they now struggle with, but nothing is seen or heard from the silent city in the White Mountains. Some say that on a clear night, flickering blue lights can be seem from atop the minarets that peek from the top of the silent city. But what transpires within, no-one knows.