Once war-torn and damaged by years of battle and blood, Angiia has transformed itself. No longer do its lesser gods revel in murdering one another, claiming land and tearing apart their precious cities just to prove their superiority over the other factions! No, they are now dignified. Rather than fight one another, instead of spilling countless blood of lesser gods... now they spill the blood of their mortals.
Unified by the Judges, the ten lesser gods who consumed the Harmonic and Chaotic's magic, Angiia's culture shifted with the advent of the Competition. It replaced the wars that had previously ravaged the Universe, instead allowing lesser gods to breed perfect mortal stock to represent their faction in the Feast, wherein the judges sampled the cooked dishes... made out of mortals. Yes. They eat their mortals. It's the most celebrated yearly event in their culture.
There is a lot of cannibalism here. If that upsets you please leave, now.
The Judges - of which there are 10 - are the most powerful lesser gods and the creators/managers of the Feast. They arrange the entire festival, from the games for children to the cooking contest itself. They live in neutral ground on an island in the sea, where the Feast takes place, although some still visit their original factions. Supposed to be impartial and honest, all the Judges have a certain personal taste (that is prone to changing), leaving the contestants ever-guessing at what they want to see in the Competition this year.
The Eudicots are headed by the illustrious Simsii, mysterious and cultlike to all but his followers. Any Eudicot swoons for him, falling head-over-heels for his quiet, mumbling statements and awkward shuffling. Some might say it's mind control, others say it's a fetish - whatever it is, though, Simsii has been ruling for as long as anyone can remember, and that doesn't seem likely to change. The entire nation is filled with wild warbeasts, although they're peaceful to the native residents and only violently attack intruders and invaders.
Once a squabbling continent of city-states, the Monocot Empire was transformed by Aestivum Triticum, hailing from Fortress. He marched around the continent, learning the culture (and military) of all the other city-states before demanding their subservience. The city-states are now unified under his banner, although they retain their own High Kings and some semblance of independence. In recent years, Aestivum has left his crown to Urartu Triticum, leaving in search of riches overseas. His people mourn his loss, and the change in power has been eyebrow-raising for many.
While High North may be on the southern continent, it comprises the furthest north regions of it, constantly swathed in ice and subzero temperatures. This harsh environment has shaped its culture, marring the nation by a myriad of civil wars and assassinations of its leaders. Death and chill go hand in hand, and all leaders of High North come to accept this one day... save for Caerulea Nymphaea, the longest-standing ruler, foretold to be a powerful king by the shape of his snowflake pupils. High North has never seen peace for as long under his rule, and many are finally breathing relief.
Nestled between the rest of the cold nations, the Confederacy once held dominion over the entire southern continent. Their population was tiny compared to the others, but the might of Cerato mages is nothing to be sneezed at, and just one can dismember an army with a sneeze. Despite this, due to economic hardship and nonchalance, the Confederacy has lost much of its land and influence over the years... and it's honestly surprising it lasted to join the Competition.
The Mangoliids were the first to break away from the Ceratos, comprised of a small group of irritated peasants and a few lesser gods who retreated into the mountains and declared secession. Unable to rally an army into the harsh blizzards and glaciers, the Ceratos shrugged and let them be. In the meantime, the Mangoliids have thrived, growing in population in tandem with the discovery of a hardy, mountain root that grew in their extreme conditions. Isolationist still, their leader seeks the next way he can get his power grab.
The easternmost nation on the southern continent, the Chloranthales live a humble life. Their mortals are the hardiest of all, fishing in the icy ocean for their food, receiving little to no assistance (nor pampering) from the lesser gods. Despite this, they have consistently won many Competitions, leading some lesser gods to hatch the plot to steal Chloran stock to breed into their own lines. Distrust and isolation have been sowed deep in Chloran culture, and their xenophobic paranoia is renown for its still-violent streak, even so many years after the wars ended.
Tropical, covered in beaches, the Archipelago is gorgeous. Its towns are more akin to elaborate resorts and spas than the home of various mortals, and their lifestyle reflects it: loved on to the extreme, given whatever they need from birth. Population is kept manageably low, and the lesser gods oversee every minute of a mortals' life, from their birth to death. The treatment has been cited as 'smothering' by critics, although the Islanders shrug it off with a smile. Their mortals are happy, they win Competitions often enough, what's the problem like treating them as dumb cattle?
A large continent, alone and shielded by magic and tall cliffs, stands in the center of the Archipelago. This is Amborella Island, a quiet, reclusive land, marketed as a safe haven for lesser gods who wish to leave their old life behind and find a new purpose and culture to fit themselves into. Those who leave to join it are not permitted to exit, for fear of compromising its borders. Then again, has anyone ever really wanted to leave? Its defenses are secure, its activities are engaging, and the people are kindly. Isn't it worth it?