One can hardly skip mention of Waterdeep, who though she never lacked in fortune before, has been ascendant in unforeseen ways. Following an explosion in the science of Artifice in the early 1380s, the city has become the focal point in the west for the study of modern sciences, and particularly in engineering techniques. Chiefly among them, Penelope Wright has emerged a giant of industry; her manufactories, rail lines, and airships first transformed the city, then led to a resurgent Lord's Alliance becoming the dominant power of the Sword Coast.

Luskan and Neverwinter are hopelessly in Waterdeep's sway, and as far south as Baldur's Gate and Amn, prevailing forces are friendly to the influx of trade and the rising prominence of muscle and merit over magic and monster. So far, none have claimed lordship beyond the city's domain, but few can question Waterdeep's economic hegemony, and fewer still would dare cut themselves off from her industry in this age of uncertainty.

As the Spellplague ravages the lands, the martial forces of Waterdeep, and their allies similarly armed, have proven invaluable in defense against wild magic and monsters. Steel titans and raw firepower have triumphed were magic failed, and the people have taken notice. Any resistance to industry and Artifice has evaporated in the face of the danger magic poses in this troubled time.

Before the merging of the Otherworld--sometimes named Abeir--the Silver Marches was ascendant, and seemed nigh unstoppable. The idea is laughable today, as a new and terribly powerful rival has emerged in the High Forest. What began as a "renaissance" of elven settlements in the region has quickly coalesced into a new realm, the Kingdom of the Eternal Sun. The elven realm, exclusively home to Sun Elves, has laid claim to much of the High Forest, and the remainder--such realms as Sharrven and the Wilds of Turlan--are not long for this world.

And yet, the star of the gold elves has not risen unopposed. Appearing amidst the magical chaos of the Spellplague, Ascalhorn has returned, fully populated and fiercely opposed to the ascendant elven empire. The human city-state, headed by Tiberius Kaine, claims bloody vengeance against the elves for past wrongs, and has petitioned the Silver Marches to join their cause. Though a full political alliance remains debated in the halls of Silverymoon, the Marches have unquestionably supported the new city-state in their crusade against the new power of the forest, if only to protect themselves from the inevitable.

Nearby, in Obouldar, the Orcish warchief Moszalexander, known mainly as "Mawz" to his simplest kin, has long since come of age, and looks eastward to the newly verdant lands of the Anauroch. His war-hungry people, tired of diplomatic efforts to unify with the wild orcs of that land, have hungrily sought battle with the elves of the High Forest, though he has stayed them from outright war for now.

The elves of Evermeet were quick to ally with the rising kingdom, although not as quick to acknowledge its Coronal as superlative to their own King Durothil. Still, their allegiance did not go unnoticed or unchallenge, as Myth Drannor, under rival Queen Leuthil Silverstar, declared "Unity of Purpose" with the rising empire of Illythiir in the far south. As the world seemed poised for a sixth Crown War, and unexpected player entered the field.

Evereska, having more than recovered from the Shadowsfall War, stands paramount among the world of elves. She has slipped the surly bonds of earth, and, in the style of the old sorcerer-kings, she has harnessed her strangely-healthy mythal, more powerful than ever before, to join the ranks of the few flying cities of Faerun. Evereska now hovers above the north, drifting where it will, and boasting the only stable network of magical portals known to exist. By the power of its portal network, and its promise of citizenship to anyone--even a non-elf--who takes residence in the city, and agrees to serve in her defense, Evereska has become a power ascendant. The first thing the city has done is declare aggressive neutrality in the matter of Elven Supremacy. In the words of Vale Master Anderar Hebboreth: "the first elf to strike shall forever be attainted the Despoiler of Elvendom, vandal of ten thousand years of peace, enemy of life and unity." And so, the peace stands...if on the edge of a knife.

In 1385, a great power play was made. Factions danced in shadow, and a great revolution very nearly swept the land. Few would know the details of the Twisted Rune, the Church of Shar, and the invisible hands that sought to reshape the south. But when the dust settled, power had shifted only in subtle ways.

In Calimport, the ancient house of Jassan has claimed the throne, a distant blood relative of the deposed house of Djenispool. The Pasha Syl-Pasha, Asier Jassan, is widely understood to be a mouthpiece for a coalition of rulers who seized power from warring factions now extinct. Lily Knight, the Daughter of Darkness, has seized control of the remnants of the Church of Share within the city, urging them to do good works with their influence, and to modernize the realm, but the bulk of the organizations power has retreated to unknown depths under their prophetess to regroup.

In the mean time, the frontier of exploration has opened wide, and adventurers across the world have converged on the region to exploit the untapped potential of Chult and the wild south. The old monopolies and cartels have been dismantled, and the wild lands are open to exploitation--all under the watchful eye of the Calishite moneyed classes, of course. Still, for every gold piece they acquire in naked conquest, the merchants and bureaucrats give back a solid handful of shekels to better the city they call home--a net gain for all, if tainted somewhat in its motives.

After years of conflict, Cormyr once again has a single king: Azoun V, son of Tanalasta, advised by Lord Nero, trueborn heir to Azoun IV. The War Wizards are shattered, but in their place is a new order, the Order of Purple Flame. This more military-style order blends modern magical techniques with classical martial power, and serves the king with zealous devotion.

The Grey League has solidified, with King Azoun as its principle mouthpiece and chief warlord--should it come to that. Behind the various powers of the heartlands are the rumored Shadow Lords, beings of great and terrible power who the entitled lords of the land knowingly bargain with. This heresy is shunned by all well-meaning folk, of course, but whispers still find their way into dark corners.

Though Cormanthyr does not count itself among the League, they must acknowledge that they are surrounded by them, and maintain pleasant to lukewarm relations with their neighbors. Their magical might--despite the Spellplague--is not to be denied, and few in the League wish to sour their relationship, but all enjoy the continued neutrality of the Dalelands as a thin but effective neutral ground between the two.

Impiltur remains on the fence about the League. On the one hand, the value their independence, and would much rather shun the dark and brooding powers on their western flank who--to put it kindly--do not share their religious and moral views. On the other, they need leverage if they are to depose the massive influence of Chessenta, left in place by none other than Tchazzar, who spent years building up good will by generously donating his mighty (and magic-free) army in battling rogue demons and monsters throughout the land while the Order of the Sacred Shrike and the Wizards of the White Tower were all but helpless to defend their lands and serve their sacred charge. Now, as the new Prince comes of age, the hope of the northern and more traditional southern Impilturans is that the nation will rally around him, this newest and best hope for a resurgent Impiltur.

Empress Anastasia of Thay needed some time to recover from the events of the Spellplague, but recover she did. She spent the 1380s and 90s ably leading the defense of her realm against magical catastrophes, monsters, and the occasional uprising. Through a feat of diplomatic guile, she secured a partnership--if not quite alliance--with the realm of Veldnathir, whose Artifice helped turn the tide of various magical disasters no doub fueled by renegade Red Wizards and their ilk. More still, she confirmed the sovereignty of the new Iron Lord of Rashemen, a strong confirmation of her commitment to allow the realm to rule itself, and fulfill her promises to her people.

Well, some of her people, at any rate. While the north still loves her dearly, the south has had enough. With Bezantur at their heart, the people of Southern Thay and the Eastern Reach have begun to act independently of the Empire, in bold defiance of their northern overlords. They claim that "Eltabbar" (the name by which they often refer to their northern conquerors) has wronged them time and time again, used them as a bargaining piece against their hated enemies (namely Mulhorand) even while getting into bed with them, and have neglected them to focus on "foreign" (namely Rashemi and imperial) concerns, despite the south comprising the lion's share of the empire's wealth. They defy the Empress to prove her worth, and to prove herself Thayan above all, if she dare claim to rule Thay.

The situation may have been avoided, had not the Empress named her eldest daughter Zehra her heir, to rule one day as Zahl II, rather than her elder brother Treygar, favored in the south. The boy--now a man, in truth--is a chip off the old block, while his sister is the picture of a Rashemi lady (or, perhaps, a Thayan Empress), and prevailing attitudes fill in the blanks. While the Empress' sizable brood favors her strongly, many take after their father, the so-called Dragon of the South, who remains an enigmatic player on this newly-electrified game board.

Unther, having enjoyed a brief renaissance under the resurgent Church of Enlil, has once again entered a slow decline, and is propped up mainly by their (expensive) sponsorship by the Thayan Empire (another point of contention for the southerners). Critics (especially in Mulhorand) point to their condition as further evidence the decadent empire is--and has long been--ripe for conquest, and begging to be freed from the shackles of its own debauched past, but others cry foul, and seek for answers amidst the cries of clerics who once enjoyed great power, and whose cries now go unanswered. Rumors still abound that the long-slumbering gods of Unther yet stir, beneath the sands, and great reckoning awaits the enemies of Unther when they soon awaken.

In a fit of generosity, or perhaps a master stroke of diplomatic genius, bolstered by a sense of profound relief after years of grueling attrition, the Sceptenar of Cimbar (known by almost everyone but himself as the King of Chessenta, Tchazzar) has recognized the independence of Threskel, under dual monarchs Ceresia Lacadaemonia and Plataeous Euryponitus. The latter of the two has grown nearly cordial with Sceptenar of late--his son has become fast friends with Treygar of Thay, the Sceptenar's eldest son, and the two gallavant across the south, getting into trouble and constantly one-upping the other in feats of strength and daring-do.

Chiefly, in the east, sits the elder kingdom of Mulhorand. Enjoying a new Golden Age under Pharaoh Keket, the realm yet knows dangers unmatched in long memories. They are menaced in the east by the Jade Empire, thirsty for fresh conquest, and rely on a very tenuous defensive pact with Thay, Threskel, and Unther for protection against the eager armies of Chessenta. Keket has been managing a valiant balancing act these last decades, even amidst the constant influx of monsters and magical mayhem in her own backyard. In fact, it is that very threat which she has turned into an opportunity, and an odd sort of defensive shield. She has invited scholars, archaelogists, and adventurers from around the world to freely explore the ruins of Old Imaskar that have been unearthed by the Spellplague, so long as they share their findings. The various academies of the East are buying the majority of the artifacts found, keeping them local, and the constant presence of foreigners in Mulhorand makes an invasion less likely--neither Chessenta nor the Jade Empire can easily make war without slaying hundreds of foreign nationals and possibly drawiing in other powers against them.

Domestically, the Pharaoh continues her aggressive modernization, focusing first on Skuld itself--hedging her bets against possible conquest and rebellion. Though her realm lacks in sophistication and economic fluidity, it is still vastly wealthy, considering the solid assets hoarded by the highest caste: the priests. It is against them she wars, robbing St. Peter to pay Paul, as she issues one decree after another, eroding the privilege of the priest caste, curtailing their exploitation of the masses. And for this, she is bitterly hated; though the priests must pay her lip service--she is a living god, after all--it is an open secret amongst the politically savvy that they are actively conspiring to take her down, or at least to hinder her changes. Inevitably, they will sell Mulhorand to foreigners before letting her transform it. She is counting on their greed, and deliberately--if subtlely--offending their pride, to keep them focused on her, rather than on those they might stand a chance of harming.

The Pharaoh is playing the long game. While everyone focuses--not unwisely--on the clear and present danger of Chessenta and the Jade Empire, and of course the still-raging Spellplague, she is watching the brooding powers of the south. Illythiir is marshaling its strength, reclaiming its old grounds, and drawing still upon the dark elven diaspora to grow at a feverish pace. Millions now live in Araushnee's empire, and are relearning their old ways of magic and warfare, mixed with the clever and deadly magicks and poisons of the Underdark past. It is no secret the Dark Queen despises the sun elves of the High Forest, but few seem to recall that she is hardly a greater friend to mankind than the Aryvandaarans. When the Crown War begins, all will be enemies to the elves.