By human standards, Arcoscephale is a profoundly old society, having undergone no conquest by an outside culture and no shattering civil war. The "Old Kingdom" is younger than other civilizations, as it wasn't around in the Golden Era, but older than what is to come. The backbone of the Arcoscephale military is the Greek (or Macedonian) hoplite. The hoplite is a citizen-soldier, whose society has sculpted him to trust his fellow man with his life; holding firm for the astrologers and priestesses behind them, they slowly advance their nation's bounds.

Phlegra is a cyclopean citadel in a rocky land, whose rivers run with lava. A last bastion the Gigantes never thought they would have to use, its leaders have lost much of the poise and composure their race was known for; they are now tyrants (in both the Greek sense and the modern sense), who act on instinct. Around the brutes are advisors both large and small, who have responded to the absence of reason in a wide variety of ways.

Pangaea is a nascent civilization in the woods, or perhaps a tribal nation with a civilization growing in it. Some Pangaeans view the organization and productivity of the centaurs as a tumor, which will destroy the wild from the inside, while others are awestruck by the bronze-coated cataphracts' charge. This is not to say that the traditional half-men are backward; sensibilities have changed over the generations, and some of the brutality from before has been ostracized out of society.

Once a part of Pangaea, Asphodel absorbed one-too-many pariahs and became a nation of its own. Its name is that of the ancient Greek equivalent for Purgatory, where the vegetation hides that one is dead and never coming back. Every day, Asphodel's vines claim beings (dead or alive) and turn them into puppets, like how the mythological Asphodel's water makes its occupants lose their identities, and the locals never think they'll be next.

Ermor is what Rome would look like if it survived a nuclear holocaust, without its inhabitants. It is an ashen waste. The disaster's perpetrators and their understudies are clouds of soot, barely maintaining human form. Those who could have prevented it have been punished worse, cursed to never decay enough for their minds to leave them. The once-mighty Ermorian Legions are now literal skeleton crews still bearing their old equipment, ideal game pieces for their Pretender.

Sceleria (Latin for "crimes") split from Ermor shortly before the end, accelerating that end in the process. Its elite have never moved past the consequences of that choice, and they now worship Death for some sort of absolution, though the Thaumaturges ("miracle-workers") of the Death Cult think they can master and command its laws. Ironically, the civil war between Ermor and Sceleria may continue, with both sides fielding the same Legions they spent all those years ago…

Pythium was once known as Pythia, as a province of Ermor added late in the Empire's heyday. Though fully integrated into the Empire, Pythia managed to cut ties well before the end, warned of what was coming by perhaps the best diviners of the era. Faith in Pythium rests on the institution those diviners built, whose priests vie for higher ranks but will at least cooperate in battle. Beyond the metropolises are nasty lands filled with Pythian serpents, which are utilized as mounts.

Man is a fantasy version of early England and Wales, though without J.R.R. Tolkien as an influence. What was once a province of the Celtic Tuatha, and possibly of their Fomorian rivals before them, became the dominion of Logrian men and their petty kings. These nobles have been superseded by witches, who found Tuatha poems in the forest of Avalon and adapted them for human use. The witches emphasize the kingdom's natural beauty in their songs, but they are still keen to exaggerate it with fairy tales.

Eriu takes the legendary Invasion Cycle of Ireland, adds a bit more violence, and has the Tuatha de Dannan return at the end of it. Considering what happened, the Tuatha's children are magnanimous overlords to the Milesians; their only spiteful act has been to withhold their magical secrets from them. The Tuatha themselves are few, and their wives are conspicuously absent, but they have had centuries to improve upon their glamour. Their mundane relatives never really left.

Agartha is a subterranean city-state, built by a race of cyclopean amphibians but inhabited by humans. The humans are colonists who view Agartha as hallowed ground; the so-called "Pale Ones" expected a far-worse attitude from them, however, and made terrible mistakes in preparation for their arrival. Agartha's humans have two priesthoods, one for the Pale Ones' masonry and statues, and the other for the Pale Ones themselves. The Pale Ones' priests, despite their powers, are pessimists.

Ulm is a kingdom of German industriousness and philosophy. Once a part of Ermor, it learned that magic was something no one should have in abundance, and it decided that religion was not going to save it. The latter is inconvenient for Ulm's Pretender God, whose cult is new and must venerate steel over flesh. Like Conan's father in the movies, the Ulmish have decided that Steel is all they can trust; fortunately, theirs is the best in the world, and produced in overwhelming quantities.

Marignon is a fantasy version of medieval Western Europe, minus the British Isles, and it probably shares a border with Ulm. It definitely shares a border with Ermor, whose increasing corruption in the later days of the Empire prompted a secession. Marignon is defined in opposition to the deadly menace at its frontier, whose undead Legions and unholy Knights (and anyone caught using magic selfishly) are met with fire, light, and faith.

Pyrène remains a kingdom of the Bekrydes, if not in spirit or mind. These cavemen have voluntarily come to the surface, refusing to live in the tomb of their former patrons. The Pyrènians are not entirely unsupervised, but the last of their magical benefactors have been corrupted; these witches have been seduced by great he-goats, much like the ones in Francisco Goya's paintings, and they now spread heinous teachings. The spiritual void in Pyrène has filled with blood.

Abysia is a theocracy of belligerent, short-lived lava-men. They (typically) serve a Pretender who brings heat to the land, and their warlocks claim that their god is empowered by sacrifices of blood; and the fire-priests themselves, not sure if it is true but not wanting to let the fires die, make the offerings. The true goal of the warlocks appears to be a better Abysian race, one whose members live longer, and they have two somewhat-working results.

Ashdod is a kingdom based in Old-Testament lore and Upper Levantine mythology. For the kings, it has been four generations since Arba (Ashdod's founder) abandoned hedonism, bucking the trend set by his grandfather Azazel. The Lord only knows how many generations have passed for the other Rephaim, whose forefathers left them almost nothing, not even strength. These lesser giants have devised means to reach back to their ancestors; not to blame them, but to trade places.

Na'Ba is a fantasy version of Petra, an ancient trading capital for the pagan Arabs. It was carved from the Ubaran Plateau, where a Sultanate of Afarit (wicked genies) burned out and exploded, with the blessing of the last Sultans. The stonecutters are the 'Adim, tall men from what is now Ashdod, and their nobles are Jann (lesser genies) with 'Adite mothers. The queens of Na'Ba are descendants of the Sultans, whose caravans have brought riches and humans.

Uruk is a somewhat-swampy land dotted with city-states, not unlike ancient Babylon. When it had one city, it was a sacral kingdom; now it is more of a confederation, with one priest-king per walled settlement. Though ogre-like in appearance, the Enkidu would much rather engage in battles of the mind (via Astral magic) than melee combat, though there remain some elements of the old ways who will gladly brave the uncivilized frontier.

Magnificent Ind is a menagerie of various medieval myths for the unexplored parts of the Old World, all made flesh. In Ind Proper, every soldier is a priest, every noble is a king, and every bishop is a general. Everywhere outside the citadel is heathen soil, dominated by tribes who might eat babies, with only a few islands of relative civility. Among these islands are the Great Men of Orionde, the Ladies of Great Feminie, the Little Horned Men of Piconye, the Lost Tribe of Giants, and dogmen so savage that they deserve a mention.

The Bandar Log (Hindi for "Monkey People") reside in a rainforest realm of rajas and elephants. Once they had Celestial overseers and demonic tempters, but now they have just the example set for them, and a misty memory of precedent. Many of the primates still live in tribes, but those who function in society reside in one of three castes; white (for the wise Brahmins), red (for the strong Kshatriyas), or black (for the hard-working Shudras). The "White Ones" remain on top.

T'ien Ch'i (as it is now) is roughly a fantasy version of Eastern Han China, a stable period when authority was shifted to academic bureaucrats. In the cities, men and women can become good at something and find fortune for their niche, rather than till the fields or become ascetics. On the other hand, the government jobs are reserved for those who will never have children, or for extraneous heirs of the imperial family. The system runs well… almost too well.

Shinuyama (Japanese for "Death Mountain") is a realm of aberrations, such as the cave-dwelling Bakemono goblins. They take the role that some wicked humans had in Japanese legends, that of the conniver who usurped the Oni courts, in this case by securing the means to re-summon them. Aside this lot, which has civilization's tools but a barbarian's mindset, are magical creatures who can make themselves look human if asked nicely.

Caelum (at this time) is a frosty realm of white-and-gray-winged folk. The "magocracy" (rule of mages) could make Caelum less snowy, at least by halting the blizzards, but then their works of ice would be easier to melt. Having driven out the metalsmiths and Earth mages for religious reasons, ice is all the Caelians can work with, and their best minds have stretched its uses to include armor and construction. They also drove out their best soldiers, but the others are trying.

Nazca is a fantasy version of the Incas, with the Incas being Caelians. Cut off from the homeland, and afraid to see how the civil war turned out, the colony in the Nazcan Mountains has mutated in its isolation. The language of the human subjects is spoken by all, and the necromantic leanings of the black-winged elders has made a "necrocracy". The dead kings and queens of Nazca are richer than the living, paid for their wisdom and having relatively few expenses.

Mictlan (as it is now) is a dry empire, thanks to the work of feathered serpents (or "Quetzalcoatl" in the Aztec tongue). The priesthood's numerous rituals for beckoning blood-drinkers are remembered, but none are trained in the ways of performing them. A fifth priesthood now oversees those dedicated to the Sun, the Moon, the Rain and the Land; a priesthood drawing a connection to the Sky itself. They take care to prevent disasters before they occur, lest they bring the old ways back.

Xibalba (at the moment) is an underground ocean of toadfolk, known as the "Muuch" (K'iche for "the horde"). They arrived with the water, finding submerged cities fit to live in, and naturally spread to fill their new container. These floods came at the expense of Xibalba's previous inhabitants, who have struggled and largely failed to keep their independence, their cultures and their numbers.

C'tis is an ancient kingdom, currently caught up in a cultural shift. Swamplands used to generations of neglect have been stoked, stirring up gases of unspeakable smells. The C'tissians alone are unfazed, though this includes their carnivorous slaves. If one has enough incense (or good-enough nose plugs) to explore, they might come across gigantic C'tissians with alligator jaws; these are the Sobek, carnivores the herbivorous citizens reluctantly employ.

Machaka is a kingdom (currently) gripped by several shady elements. If the king makes an impactful mistake, no one will complain, for his priests will promptly replace him. The king and his priests are outright ignored in many parts, where powerful witch doctors cow the locals with their arts; as long as the sorcerers pay lip-service to Machaka's pretender god, and do their job when paid, whatever they do on their own time is allowed. And then there are the colossal spiders…

Phaeacia is, in many ways, the same place from Homer's Odyssey; the biggest difference is that Nausicaa is of royal Machakan ancestry. Most of the island's riches were brought in with the help of its ships, which are steered by thought and can only be wrecked by divine intervention. Few threats have ever reached the island, and these have been dissuaded with orichalcum-clad half-giants, Gigante vassals, and absurd amounts of treasure.

The misty moors of Vanheim hide many secrets. Dwarven smiths keep their business behind one of the waterfalls, for instance, while the unassuming boars are secretly immortal. The most elusive things in Vanheim, however, are the Vanir themselves; they are the lesser gods of the land, a bit like in Norse myth, and they only show themselves for war and festivities. Vanheim's humans trust the Vanir with matters of religion, magic, and means of physical empowerment.

Vanarus is a fantasy version of the Kievan Rus', a historic realm of Slavs founded by Varangians. The Varangians were settlers from Scandinavia, and so the equivalents in Vanarus are the Vanir. Conquest of Old Rus was not easy for them, so their numbers are decidedly few; they already share power with the humans and the superhuman "Chuds", in the tribal system they brought from Vanheim. Sages have already begun crossing the Vanir's "dark magic" with the ancient Rusian arts.

Jotunheim is the snow-covered realm of the Jotunar, giants based on the aberrations of Norse mythology. Their men are as strong as elephants, while their women (the 'Gygjor') are sorceresses of spite. Once subordinate to frosty beings of greater magic and stature, Jotunheim has yet to truly replace the dead-and-dying powers of that era. The cult of the Illwinter still clamors to turn back the clock. (Not that the ancient matriarchs who remain want that sort of thing.)

Nidavangr is a land held by three clans, collectively known as the "Nidings" (Norse for "dishonorables"). Most human-only realms have adopted a sort of civilization by now, but not Nidavangr: the tenacity of its warriors, (basically every Niding who can speak,) has held firm, even against the mighty Jotunar and the magical Vanir. It is hard to determine what Niding magic was brought to the land by them, and what was looted from their supernatural enemies.

Ys is an undersea realm just off the mainland. As in Breton myth, its capital of Ker-Ys was sunk by the daughter of its builder; this was no accident, however, but rather to let Tuatha sorceresses hide from mankind. Submerged, the Tuatha became Morgens, and their domain became that of sea peoples such as the green-skinned Merrow. Ys's old human vassals linger on the shore, waiting for the charge of its sea-striding knights to reclaim them, so that they may ride as well.

Pelagia is an undersea kingdom of bronze, which is brought by Merman traders from the air-bound human markets to the water-bound Triton camps. As humanity's analogue beneath the waves, the Tritons are the kingdom's common folk and nobility, with the latter striving to maintain their traditions in a changing world. The Mermen are relatively rootless and have yet to develop a concrete magic tradition; not that the Triton Kings are helping with that.

Oceania has always existed on the fringes of undersea civilization. Wherever the kelp is cut short, the "Ichty"-folk abandon, at least until the kelp grows back; such is the way of nature. The Oceanians have never acted too early or too late, but they got close to doing so when the "filthy" frogmen encroached far too close upon Aphros's grove; fortunately, they waited, and what must be divine intervention has given them an opening for reconquest.

Atlantis is… well… Atlantis, if the eponymous realm was underwater all along. Whatever smote the frogmen was beyond their comprehension, but the surviving sages have rebuilt in shallower waters fit for coral. Like in Platonic thought, anyone wise enough to rule is given the position of king, though the vast majority of Atlantians are written off as stupid. The Atlantians are not human, though; they are frogmen who never stop growing, and their women are the true rulers by nature.

R'lyeh is a city-state from the stars, not unprecedented in its arrival, or even in its name, but notable for its inhabitants. Among the squid-like Stellar exiles are sages now known as the Starspawn, who have retained knowledge of beyond this world and have put it to use. Their communion of elevated minds has usurped the slave empires of previous polities, but these are not enough for their ambitions; their gaze is drawn towards mankind, whose women may prove to be good mothers.