An Imperfect Storm
A storm brews on the Sea of Lustre.
The world of Golarion is old, but far from tired. A world where men go out into the world to seek their fortune, and usually wind up undead. But this is a land where men and beast alike achieve greatness. Two hundred and fifty years ago, a party of the truly great rose up in the ruins of Azlant, and tales of their heroism spread across the world.
But that is another story for another time.
This story takes place halfway around the world, on a cluster of small islands between Casmaron and Garund, in the heart of the Sea of Lustre. So named for the golden color the water takes on at sunset, the sea is incredibly wide, and the elven people of the ancient Illustrian Isles have prospered in an isolated, self-sufficient capacity up until approximately three hundred years ago, when the last Emperor opened trade with other nations around the world.
Since the Emperor’s death forty years ago, things have begun to turn strange. Every year, the isles are struck by devastating hurricanes, each worse than the last. The isles have been becoming gradually warmer, year by year, turning an already tropical climate into a completely oppressive one. And on the eastern horizon, an ever-present storm brews, waiting, but never moving.
A new danger manifests on the plane of Golarion, and a new legend is born in the tiny port town of Madra.