One of the smaller noble houses of the Empire’s Western Diocese, House Lionheart has fallen on hard times. Once one of the mightiest of the noble bloodlines, tracing their lineage all the way back to a place upon the Emperor’s own court. Through centuries, even in the wake of the cataclysm, their authority stood unyielding, a bulwark against even the influence of the Azerai Church.

That time is long past though, House Lionheart now languishes in the shadow of its former grandeur, besieged by a succession of calamities that have ravaged their once prosperous domains. The initial blow came some decades past, as a great host of revenants sallied forth from the long-silent Castle-Calden, descending upon House Lionheart’s holdings with cold iron and dark ritual, their scourging touch left the lands scarred and their people broken.

Since then, a relentless onslaught of misfortune has plagued them, transforming what was once a beacon of nobility into a desolate wasteland of despair, a realm of diminished significance.

Presiding over this sorry state is the current Lord of House Lionheart. A small man, not just in stature, but deed, he is renowned for his insatiable greed and venomous spite, clutching fiercely to his dwindling holdings. Desperation fuels his every action as he schemes and connives, seeking any opportunity to salvage his tattered reputation. Yet, his machinations have wrought a legacy of distrust, driving away even the most intrepid merchants who dare travel the perilous roads from Bryxford to his dilapidated Manse.

Whispers and murmurs abound among innkeepers and mendicant friars alike, foretelling the imminent collapse of House Lionheart. In the cursed land of Doaden, where misfortune lurks in every shadow, the specter of disaster looms ever closer, casting a pall over the once-mighty House Lionheart.