"Below are but a fragment of the many mysteries of the Archipelago. Its origin, its past, its future... are all things of the unknown waiting for mortals to fashion it into epics worthy of being sung in Inns and Taverns."
-- William Bell, Deceased Archeologist

"The Mist is the stuff of dreams, my son. Dangerous, mysterious, and incomprehensible. But deserving of patient study, respectful contemplation. Who knows what secrets can be unlocked, if we have but the courage to find the key?"
-- Father Tullius of the Dreamers

"To go into the Mist with fear, is to become fear. To go into the Mist with anger, is to become anger. To go into the Mist with wisdom, is to become wisdom. This only will I tell you." - Elder Otoroo of the Stargazers

"I am the Chosen One! The Mist showed me the future to come. A crown of spun gold, and sandals of silver! It is why I survived, and the others were taken. Left without skin, ha ha ha! My destiny is great! Bow before me and I shall take mercy upon your unfortunate souls!" - Patient Lorys Nugget, of the Healing Touch

"Ah, the Mist! It's Umberlee's breath, my boy. And it's blood in the water she wants. Show her the respect she deserves, or she'll suck you up in her fog and you'll ne'er be heard of again..." - Captain Pikt Lancer, late of Old Port

The Shrouded Archipelago is known for its thick fogs, storms, rain-showers, and unusual weather. But perhaps nothing is quite so mysterious as the unusual phenomenon known as The Mist. Whether on sea or on land, The Mist arrives as a thick, heavy fog.

Travelers caught in its embrace often report strange, dream-like experiences. Sometimes the Mist seems to lead travelers extremely astray, other times it almost seems to speed up one's voyage. The Mist can be dangerous and frightening, with entire groups of men and women disappearing into its depths for all time, or emerging dead and hideously warped. Others insist it is a benign force that should be studied and experienced.

Regardless of what you believe, any visitor to the Shrouded Isles must deal with the Mist with great care.

"Ah! Are you a scholar, my friend? For if you are, you are in great luck! Why waste your time in picking over the sand-covered ruins of the Anaraouch? You are in Ymph, my friend! No more significant site for archeological study exists in all the realms!"
-- Zyphaem Faussad

In addition to the Old Port colonists and scattered survivors of the underdark city of Sanctuary, a recently reactivated mythallar regularly teleports perplexed strangers from all across the realms to its top, assuring a regular influx of new arrivals.

Much of the ruins have been flooded or blocked off by crumbled walls and rubble. In addition, those sections that are accessible are highly dangerous, often populated by the fierce sun-fearing Nightriser skeletons as well as a variety of other monstrous creatures. This makes exploration and archeological study very difficult and dangerous.

Many scholars have concluded that the ruins date from the golden age of the Netherese Empire, and that indeed the city was a kind of penal colony in which criminals, the insane, and other undesirables were forcibly sent to. As the city appeared to avoid the destruction that brought an end to the Netherese Empire, it remains unknown what happened to its inhabitants and what turned it into the ruin of today.

"Sanctuary. The word fills me with grief. For a century and a half we endured in the deep darkness, scrambling to survive. Great deeds were done. Events such as I hardly have the heart to describe. In the end, we nearly succumbed to the darkness that surrounded us. In the end, we nearly became the monsters we feared. But it is gone now. The flickering halls of Dunwarren are now as they once were, empty of human life. Oh but we must remember, we must!"
-- Adelia Tyrell, Sanctuary Survivor

For over a hundred and fifty years, an improbable settlement of surfacer races edged out an uneasy survival in the ruins of a svirfneblin city deep within the Underdark.

Populated largely by escaped slaves and the descendants of escaped slaves that had found freedom from the hands of monstrous slaver races of the great Underdark, a complicated society came to be. Sanctuary was a place of hope and despair, freedom and tyranny. As often as the city united in the face of overwhelming odds, the place was split apart by rebellion, tyranny, and strife.

In the end, the odds grew too long. Exhausted survivors describe the complicated end of their Sanctuary with bitterness and fear. They speak of a mysterious draconic protector being turned into a mindless tool of destruction, and of how politics in the distant drow city of Traensyr turned against them. They speak with horror of the machinations of the illithid of Ysinode, and of how the teeming masses of undead and rat-like Chosen finally awoke their monstrous Appetite. Some speak bitterly of how even Sanctuary's own arcanist defenders, the Spellguard, became evil tyrants.

It is clear that unravelling the tangled threads of Sanctuary's history could keep a scholar busy for a lifetime. But what matters is that in the end, the town fell, and many good men and women died to the horror that surrounded them.

Yet some survived, discovering at the very last an incredibly dangerous and mythical Way upwards that led to the Island Ymph. Survivors speak of the courage of the adventurers that charted a way forward, and of the powers of mysterious druids that kept them safe in the hard passage upwards through the use of their magical Ark.

The people of Sanctuary, what little as remained, found their way at last into the light.

"... rumors of an ancient Way, built in the distant past by the elves who were to become the drow, leading up."
-- fragment from the lost journal of Frederick Bresley

"Stay away from this place, stranger. It is safe for neither of us, and you do not share our solemn duty..."
-- Valinae Nel'thalir

On the southern edge of the Island of Ymph it is said that there can be found ruins more ancient even than those surrounding the Sharboneth Colony. These ruins are rumored to have been built in an impossibly distant past by the Ilythiiri, a subrace of elves later to be cursed and driven into the Underdark, turning into the drow.

It is even said that these Ilythiiri were responsible for the creation of a magical pathway that led from their island settlement to various points in the deep Underdark, dating to the very founding of the webbed drow city of Traensyr. This pathway is said to be filled with terrible dangers and guardians, but was used successfully by refugees from the city of Sanctuary to escape from the Underdark.

On the island itself, the Ilythiiri ruins remain a largely unexplored and deadly place to visit. Even the bravest of treasure hunters seem unwilling to face the demonic forces that are speculated to dwell in that cursed place. It is said only that a select few of the Tel'quessir dare to search the ruins, seeking some lost artifact of their race.

"You wish to know our history? Our history stretches back to a past further than you can imagine. Study the life of an acorn as it drops upon fertile soil, takes root, and spirals upwards into a towering oak. Study a drop of rain as it falls high upon a mountain face, and drips through freezing stream and into wooded valley, nourishes plant and animal, and passes finally into the ocean that surrounds us. Perhaps then you will be ready for the History of our Circle."
-- Unknown

It is said such a Circle has only recently returned from a pilgrimage deep beneath the earth, returning to the island for purposes unknown.

Across the Shrouded Archipelago, it becomes clear that the return of the Netherese God of Rot and Corruption, Moander, is a fact rather than fiction. Most ignore how its dark powers could manifest itself, but fear that its corruption could spread to every Isle of the Archipelago should it grow in power.

This return was due to the actions of the last survivors of the Cult of Moander.The exact date of its foundation remains a mystery even amongst its more senior members, but the purpose of the cult who first fled to the Underdark has always been clear. Possessed by the last shred of the will of the Darkbringer, these cultists worked to this end in bringing back their master from the dead.

Due to their fanatical efforts, the cult was able to summon the last divine rotting plague known as the "Rotting Death" converting the saurian tribe of Lizardfolk of Slaal'teesh to the worship of the Dread Rot God as well as bringing a time of death and disease to the ex-slaves city of Sanctuary. As the plague ravaged through the population, the cultists manage to revive the fear of Moander back into the hearts of mortal and with this, the slumber of Moander's power was to end...

At this times, a great many citizens from Sanctuary in hope of slowing the Rot of their body turned to the worship of the Great Dread God, who in turn, slowed their afflication and helped them to live and breathe once more. However, they would turn toward a new life of adoration for their savior and become instruments of his will at the same time. For this, many new cultists were both drawn from the Sanctuarian and Lizardfolk populations of this region of the Underdark.

The renewal of Moander completed. The cult, directed by the visions of their reborn master, turned its gaze upon the greater prizes which was to increase Moander's influence over Faerun as well as bring word of his return to the Main lands...

“Out of the woods and mountains they came. Like a black tide, they murdered all in their wake, men and elves marching to their call. And all because of him. Mak’rur, the Beast, the Spirit That Sings, gods damn him. Many good men died at Senuspur, and more still at the Webbed Wood. And yet we held, for all the good it did.”
– Sergeant Horace Brace, one-legged drunk and Veteran of the War of Red Eleint.

The beginings of the War of Red Eleint are still shrouded in misunderstandings and rumours. Some say that it began with Governor Ortred’s massacre of Orcish ascetics upon their most holy day. Others speak fearfully of a slave riot in Old Port which freed a terrible gladiator who bent the Orcs to his will.

However, it is commonly agreed the troubles began during the tournament to mark the Articles of Colonisation.

In the midst of the festitvities, pillars of smoke began to arise from Residential District. Soldiers flooded the Arena, and the Colonists were ordered to return to Ymph. Hours later, the first news of fighting in the Port arrived. The following days remain confused. Rumours quickly spread of the Governor butchering Orcish holy men, and of a host marching to burn the Ziggurat. Karzan Fyoris lead the majority of armed men in the Colony to the Webbed Wood, only to face a terrible massacre. Men of the Order and Stygian Armada erected a great fortress upon the Senuspur Hill, holding tides of the Host back stoically for weeks. Governor Ortred fell upon its walls, surrounded by the bodies of his foes.

What began as hushed whispers was soon vindicated: humans fought alongside the Orcs. Claiming to come to free the Colonists from the rule of Old Port, the conflict reached its zenith at the terrible Second Battle of the Webbed Wood. Despite demands of Emissary Sharboneth to take refuge at the Governor’s Isle, Tertrach Burkden of the Stygian Armada lead what remained of the settlement’s garrison to the Woods to make a desperate last stand against the tides of Orcs. Hours of bloody fighting followed across the Isle. Fort Senuspur was held by a garrison of thirty wounded men, and the defenders of the Wood cut a swathe through the Host. The battle is rife with rumours to this day. Of the death of the Spirit That Sings at the hands of Tertrach Burkden. Of sightings of odd robed individuals carrying the dead into the Woods, and a man encased wholly in deep black armour seen routing columns of Orcs alone.

The fighting lasted the best part of a night, and the defenders were eventually driven back to the gates of the Ziggurat. Demoralised and few in number, they prepared to fight a grim last stand against the innumerable foes. However, with dawn came the horns of the Trenada Expedition, and the routing of the host. Close to four hundred men arrived to drive back the Orcs, already weary from many hours of fighting.

The body of the Spirit himself was never recovered, and there are some who claim that his true intent was far more sinister than imagined by the Colonial War leaders of the time. Burned crops, widespread hunger and dissent against the Sharboneth regime are his legacy. Many of the members of the Court met their end in the battle, and it remains barren and disorganised to this day.