In the turning of ages, when the fires of the Dawn War had cooled and the scars of the Shattered Kingdom still marred the earth, there arose a man unlike any before or after. His name was Rose, a lord of no renown, a mere warden of a windswept hamlet called Jovenshire—a place so small it barely marked the maps of kings. Yet from that humble soil sprang an ambition vast enough to change the face of the world. In the space of but a few decades, Rose’s banners flew over Wolford and Moressley, his armies bridging rivers and battering down old fortresses of men who had once sworn they would never kneel. Behind his meteoric rise, whispers carried on salt winds spoke of unseen allies: Elven diplomats from across the seas, whose sharp smiles and colder bargains promised him glory while their own eyes turned covetously toward the gleaming spires of Elkmire, heart of the Elven Kingdom. But conquest kindles fire in every heart it touches. To the south, the Tiefling Kingdom of the Sapest stirred, its horns raised in grim defiance. For Rose had spoken words that would not be forgotten: that human supremacy would tame the “monsters who haunt the Sapest,” binding them in chains to build his empire. Even the desert winds seemed to carry the foreboding promise of war. And yet, this age was not wrought of steel alone, but of sorcery. Magic wove through every stone and stream of the realm, abundant as breath and twice as perilous. In Elkmire, towers floated above the clouds, their lights like stars brought to earth. The great College of Ioun filled the skies with airships that turned vast journeys into fleeting moments. Even the humblest farmer might own a trinket kissed by enchantment, while hedge mages kindled fire with a word. But power, left untethered, breeds ruin. And so the kingdoms named Archmages to sit in solemn conclave each month, forging accords of restraint beneath the stern gaze of Grand Mage Wilbur Wregi. The laws of magic, fragile as spider silk, held back devastation—but only just. For always, there were those who dreamed of fire and dominion. It was an age of rising empires and fragile peace, of wonder and dread in equal measure. Yet while all eyes fixed upon King Rose’s relentless march, a darker fate slumbered in the Mage Coast. There, in the salt-crusted halls where the tides gnawed at ancient stone, something stirred. Its roots reached deep into forgotten covenants, into the blackened bones of an older world—a force patient and merciless, whose awakening would one day unmake the works of men and elves alike. And though none living could yet know it, the choices made in this dawning Age of Humanity would shape the bloodline of Rosenhall, the birth of an empire, and the fall of mages for generations to come.
Unlike the Rosenhall you know and love, Rosenhall: Old School transports players back to the Age of Humanity, a time when the Beast War loomed on the horizon and when the Spell Plague threatened to unravel the fragile order of the realms. Set roughly a century before the events of Rosenhall I, this era offers a starkly different world: untamed, divided, and on the cusp of great change.
Few familiar faces walk these lands; only the long-lived elves, steadfast dwarves, and a handful of ancient legends bridge the gap between this past and the Rosenhall you’ve come to know. This is a chance to experience Rosenhall for the first time again, to see the world before it was shaped by empires and adventuring heroes, with fresh places, new faces, and challenges all its own.
It is important to note that this campaign exists in an alternate timeline, a self-contained story that is free to forge its own destiny. While echoes of the main series remain, the threads of fate have been rewoven here. For example, Mezer Dread returns to his original tiefling form from Rosenhall I, long before his rise to infernal godhood in later canon. This is not merely a prequel, it is a reimagining of the past, untethered from future events, allowing for surprises even seasoned veterans of Rosenhall won’t see coming.
At this point in history, the Empire of Rosenhall has yet to claim the Vale, and the world remains fractured, a patchwork of rival realms, each vying for power and survival in an age of war and wonder. The great powers of this time are:
The Kingdom of Rosenhall
The fledgling human monarchy, hungry for conquest yet still forging its identity. Led by the ambitious King Rose and backed by restless armies, Rosenhall’s dream of uniting the Vale under its banner is matched only by its ruthlessness in achieving it. The scars of early wars shape its people, forging a nation eager to claim destiny through blood and steel.
The Principality of Khim Khalduhr
The last unbroken bastion of the Shattered Dwarven Empire, Nor Thordrimm, Khim Khalduhr stands as a fortress of stone and stubborn pride. Its princes refuse to acknowledge that the Forgelord’s reign has ended, clinging fiercely to their ancient titles and superiority even as the world around them moves on. To challenge Khim Khalduhr is to face the wrath of a people desperate to prove their fallen empire is not yet dead.
The Petty Kingdom of Bradford
Far from Rosenhall’s grasp, Bradford thrives in isolation, a vast land of fertile fields, bustling towns, and one magnificent port city where fortunes are made overnight. Its benevolent ruler governs through fairness and diplomacy, avoiding the blood-soaked expansionism of other human crowns. Many believe Bradford is destined to be the world’s economic heart, trading power and influence where others spend blood and steel.
The Feudal Sapest State
The desert realm of Sapest is a patchwork of sun-baked towns and jeweled oases, ruled by Tiefling noble houses bound by ancient pacts and fiery rivalries. At their head sits an elected High King in The Charmed Cove, a dazzling city of merchants, artists, and dreamers, slowly rising as a beacon of culture and commerce. While their unity is fragile, Sapest’s spirit burns bright, seeking greatness not through conquest but through creation.
The Tribal Confederation of Vlorfa
A wild and untamed coalition of beastfolk tribes, Vlorfa bows to no crown. Its people roam endless plains and shadowed forests, living free under the rule of strength and spirit. To the empires of man, Vlorfa is savage and unrefined—but to its tribes, they are the last guardians of an older, purer world, and they will fight tooth and claw to keep it.
The Elkmire Magocracy
A realm where magic is law and power is inherited through arcane mastery, Elkmire is a place of towering spires and floating citadels. The Archmage rules by wit and will, their intrigues and rivalries shaping the fate of nations far beyond their borders. To live in Elkmire is to dwell in wonder and terror alike, for a whispered spell can elevate—or erase—you from history in an instant.
What unfolds here is not the Rosenhall of later legends. It is a world on the brink, where borders are fluid, alliances are fleeting, and the heroes of this age may rise to shape history… or see it consumed in war and plague.