Showing posts with label city. Show all posts
Showing posts with label city. Show all posts

An Armoury

Picture stolen from Matthew Adams

1 - Paddycrook

A traditional tentacled head attached to the dried and hardened penis of the jabobo. Originally a tool of the Kairnic herdsman who could use the flexible shaft to thwack wayward or aggressive animals or, if herding larger and more leathery stock — such as the muscular and often dangerously amatory jabobos themselves — can use the barbed metal head to grab, pull and lock limbs.

Cattle raiders soon discover that this tool is equally suited to taking them to task as it is the herds. The dried shaft can cut through unprotected skin and the barbed head will shred the soft flesh from anything it grabs.


2 - Absinthe Knuckle

You might be surprised that among the Absinthian plainsmen there is a huge societal stigma against killing. One might wonder, considering their notoriously warlike ways of carrying on against the city-states and each other, how this is possible. The answer is via a very generous interpretation of killing. They execute their criminals by placing them atop their high totems and waiting for them to fall off to their deaths, as they see it, by their own hand. They kill at range, by the wind's whim. They grasp their swords in the ice-pick grip of these Knuckles, creating a degree of separation from the deceased.

They are a pragmatic people, not to be stopped by generations of folk tradition.

3 - Iron Keys

An iron key for the iron gates of the Halls of the Castigator, ceremoniously held by every guard of the prison-city. They don't fit any extant lock and are instead used as symbols of office and massive flails.

The city is unchanged since before the fall of the Great City and its separation into scattered city-states divided by rubble and killing fields. The guards still guard and take prisoners, as they ever did, from the cities, secure in their ancient duty under the The Veracious Lawgiver and of their their indispensable position as neutral castigators among the roiling Empires.

Though they do have to stop the occasional prison break via siege.

4 - Fetch

Associated with the criminal class of Yongardy, who carry these openly as a sign of intent when the mood takes them.

They are a simple weapon best suited for alley ways or the narrow corridors of the manses of the rich. Simply put, they are a pair of knuckle dusters with a thin, strong, wire between them (used for garotting or general entanglement) and a spike set on one end. Typically used to ambush or grapple, they can also be utilised one handed as a wild and unpredictable flail, possibly keeping your perusers at bay.

5 - The Butterfly

Named not for its attractive shape and suprisingly pliable build, but its famed ability to "butterfly" opponents, splitting them from collarbone to pelvis, popping them open in spectacular fashion.

They were originally made by the warrior society/priesthood of Mayse, based on the apocryphal tale of early followers failing to penetrate the thick shells of the soldiers of the Snail God, buckling and bending their swords as they thrust at their twisted armour. Mayse, on seeing this failure and desperately desiring the high snail priests skull be bashed upon his temple steps, taught his followers to fully split their pliable swords and hack at them, thus shattering the shells and plunging into the rich goo beneath. Ever since then they have shunned piercing weapons as being inferior and suspiciously dastardly.

6 - Bucolicannon

All servants who attended The Raging Vizier in his troubled twilight years were required to wear one of these for their own safety. The Vizier, a world renowned and ancient sorcerer, was caught in the throes of a degenerative senility, one which would forget and then remember the spells of his youth and vomit them forth at the most unfortunate times.

So, rather than risk another 40 years of sleep, or the opening of a hellmouth, his chief page came up with the genius plan to equip every member of his staff, from the kitchens to the gentlemen of the privy chamber, with a helmet mounted blowgun full of powerful sedatives. Even with their arms turned to eels and their legs detached and arguing, they can roll on their side and safely subdue the doddering old coot.

Since his tragic demise others have seen the possible applications of them. If only the chief page, or in fact any of his household, had survived the lifehook he placed on them. Some say they're chasing him still, naked down the halls of the underworld.

I Ate'nt Dead

I can assure you that the relative quiet is a good thing. It means work is getting done.






Firstly and most tangibly: The Undercroft #5 is finished. This issue was hijacked by a flood of what people have questionably named "Raggi's Rejects", a term you will find is entirely unjustified in all but the most literal sense. 100% grade A items, cover to cover, accompanied by the prettiest of pictures. They were so good and so many that I had to add more pages to the issue. It'll likely be available on RPGNow at some point, but that's in their hands now. EDIT: Here it is


Secondly, the City of the Dead has just passed the half way mark on first draft completion. After a month of frustration — and with some help from the relentless Matthew Adams — the way forwards was found and the kind-of-mega-dungeon bounds along happily once again. All that's left is for me to do is to get over my fear of gimmicks and people shouting at me for not including trigger warnings. After that it's a clear run to the finish line and palming it off on another play-test group.


Thirdly, the Patreon subscription experiment has gone smoothly. It works as a functional subscription system and takes a lot of the paperwork out of my hands. I'll do a proper report on this for those considering doing similar once everything is sent out and settled.

The Empires

The Empires derivative common name for a fluid cultural area formally known as the Commonwealth
Characterised by ruins. People living out of the glory of the past, shattered by a tepid war to claim the seat of the Autarch. The succession war has carried on in its current state for generations, an amount of time so great that the common people don't think of it as a war, rather just the state of things.

The outside world knows them as mercenaries and adventurers. This blasted land produces them seemingly without end, the weary and the war-hungry, stumbling out of the dust looking for what they cannot find here.

There are more cities than this. The Great City was vast, stretching from horizon to horizon, so old that it's docks now sit far inland as the sea retreats from her. But this is some examples of her remnants.

The Empire and its neighbours
Link to the big version

Language
They speak a non-gendered language. This is cause for embarrassment when among foreign people, as they default to referring to everyone as women, and have great trouble differentiating gender linguistically. Possibly the source of the belief that Empiric mercenaries refer to everyone as women because of barbarian arrogance and a desire to demean other warriors as weak, but it's merely a matter of linguistic confusion.

Roads
There are extensive roads between the cities, but they are closed by order of the last Autarch. In disrepair and patrolled by ulans, who have royal writ to claim any belongings of trespassers). They are dangerous and avoided by all.
Ulans stalk the highways
Example City-States

Great Lady's house
White Ape City
Ruler: The Mighty Opener, Soul of Darkness,

If it were not redundant to call any city among the empires "ancient" White Ape City would earn that moniker. Temple city to the Great Lady Under Earth and at its highest peak her own residence and, by relation, entrance to the underworld.

Though not the most populous, it is opulent. Even modest citizens can live among the carven arches and endlessly repeating grotesques depicting scenes from the House of the Great Lady.

The city gains its name from the intelligent white gorillas that are allowed to lope around the city. They are considered to be guides to the underworld and contribute to the city's safety. Most people are hesitant to risk harming or angering them.

Carnifex
Ruler: The Carnifex
A cold and blasted hill, honeycombed with tunnels and cells. When the wind blows at the right angle and with enough spite it makes the city-hill moan with a thousand hopeless voices.

The wealthiest citizens live at the bottom of the hill in dark wooden houses, huddled together against the wind and noise. As you travel further and further up the mound they become poorer and poorer. The worst wretches live alongside the prisoners kept in the few functional cells left in the vast tunnels.

At the very top is the house of the carnifex and her apprentices. Masked and silent, she rules from on high. Her sword is the sum of the law, pray her masked agents do not take you in the night for breaking the unspoken law.

Gateway of Gods
Ruler: The Masterful Keeper of Gods

The twin rivers that flow through the Empires are the remit of The Flood-Storm, a god both OF and which IS the river system. The Flood-Storm ensures that the seasonal floods and other equally important river activities remain in place.

You will find the House of the Flood-Storm here, at Gateway of Gods, sitting atop the antiquated system of gates and channels that has the power to withhold and unleash the rivers. It's priesthood has evolved around its arcane operation, with the Keeper of Gods as its high priest, and bodily representative of the Flood-Storm when she is needed. At her command the waters were withheld and mountains flooded, thus both the White Tree Mire and Concourse of Copper was formed.

Gateway of Gods






The Gate of the Sun-Child
Ruler:  The Yellow Empress, the Power Perverse

The Gate of the Sun-Child is believed to be the closest point to the sun as it crosses the sky on its way to the underworld to determine the fate of the dead. At no other place is the Sun-Child's numinous power more apparent.

A caste of column builders call this city-state home. They mine the fine white stones from their quarries and fashion them into taller and taller pillars, upon which the wealthy clamber in order to be closer to the Sun-Child. Taller and taller columns require more and more advanced and elaborate constructions, all in order to prove the godliness of its owner and to allow them to look down upon others.

The construction of these pillars drives the city to expand and plunder.

City of the Emerald Throne
Ruler: The Amaranthine Vizier

Before the Gate of Gods redirected the Slow River, the Emerald Throne was home to only it's ruler and her staff. The great basalt ziggurat of the Emerald Throne is the seclusium of  The Amaranthine Vizier, who some suspect is THE Amaranthine Vizier, who advised the last Autarch and was suspected of being the true power behind the throne.

Since the arrival of the Slow River and its flood waters, others have come, flocking to live in the shadow of the ziggurat. Food is abundant and rival cities are fearful of the Vizier, who for now has seen fit to stay in her seclusium pursuing whatever it is brought him here to begin with.

Like this, but imagine cranes as well
Fort of the People at the Edge
Ruler:  The Manifold Gatherer

Sat on the edge of the Concourse of Copper, the starved river.

Once a vast port stretching for miles along its bank, now its inhabited area is largely confined to still operable loading cranes and the buttresses that once formed the solid walls of the river bank.

They maintain fields in the rich, damp soil of the riverbed, producing a vast surplus of food. In addition, they are the largest producer of Yellow Sun-Child, a thick, sometimes viscous, tea enjoyed by all levels of society. It numbs the senses and mouth, to which can be attributed the characteristic drawl and slow speech that foreigners associate so closely with the Empires.

The Impregnable City
Ruler: The Voluminous Shepherd, Eater of Hearts

Its name refers to the metaphorical nature of the city, rather than a measure of its assailability. Indeed, it has been taken and sacked many times since the beginning of the succession. Rather it is a statement regarding its origin as the necropolis of the Great City, which of course lies splintered every which way can be imagined.

Death can not be overcome, of which the residents are grimly aware. Their livelihoods are found in the acceptance and proper treatment of corpses. From all corners of the world people send their dead here. Great caravans arrive carrying dead kings from lands most people have never even heard of, all to be interred, burned, dismembered, preserved or otherwise attended by the citizens of the necropolis. Their knowledge of burial rites is immense and eerily up to date.

You can often spot the tell-tale rheumy eyes* of a member of the polis under foreign garb, just as they slip off the caravans and melt into the crypts and laboratories to report what they have learned. Ostensibly adding to their professional knowledge, but those ears can't help what else they may learn.

*Dark Water Corpse Dust, another source of wealth, is not good for the sinuses

Seven Orchard City
Ruler:  The Green Lion

Seven orchards for seven families. Not long ago it was simply Orchard City, and for miles at its approach you would be met with the sweet smell of pear blossoms, date palms row by row, tended by the armies of fieldhands.

Now there is little land left, the rows of trees are drowned in the White Tree Mire, a gift from the Gateway of Gods. As they give, they take away, or give so much you can take no more.


The Bear Tower
Ruler: The Unconquerable Monster, the Hidden Guest of the Bear Tower

The bear tower is a crumbling spire at the terminus of a meandering and shattered wall, at places scores of metres thick, clad in metal.

The Bear Tower itself takes in young children and raises them to become animal tamers. More than mere tricks, they can break any animal and produce extraordinary feats. At some point in life each tamer takes a lion or bear in marriage, after which they shun human lovers.

Under a member of the Bear Tower an animal will be tested and either broken or moulded into a focused machine, bent to whatever end it was intended for. Many die or are too wounded to continue and are thrown from the tower to be collected by the people living in the shacks and shanties below.


The Ven visit the House Absolute with diplomatic gifts of laser guns

The House Absolute
The seat of governance. Its palatial gardens are of such arcane and perfect design that those searching for it uninvited are unlikely to stumble across it.

Since the succession crisis the halls of the House Absolute have been a petty game of intrigue and jockeying for position. The rulers of the cities come in and out of favour among the courtiers, find themselves invited to the garden parties and dances less and less often.

Somewhere in it's halls is kept the Iron Sceptre of governance, left carelessly on the throne. No one would think to take it by force, only a man who believes he is Autarch, and with the will to make others believe it, can even find it. None so far have done so, regardless of their bombastic claims otherwise.



















Neighbours

Yongardy

A vibrant port city, teeming with humanity. Famous for its judicial system (fairest in all the lands) and being the place to stop for any respectable trade ship darting along the Friendly coast between it's grim storms and spasmodic squalls. Its enormous fortified harbour is a joyous sight, and the last one they will see in a good while for those headed north. No major ports exist in the Empires, where the coast has retreated from the ancient cities and been left to rough border towns to handle. And further, Calipyg's ports are strictly regulated by their mushroom overlords, each barrel and hold inspected and logged on entry and exit. Such a burden of time has meant that most skip it's once bustling waters and continue onto the frozen spires of Vornheim beyond the mountains.

Trade has made it rich, but it's cavalry has made it safe. The city sits in the corridor between the Yellow Kingdoms and the Empires, a plain occupied by nomadic Grass tribes (a rough and violent people), kept in check by decree of the governor and the court of directors. Dragoons are sent out regularly to pillage and burn the roving villages to keep them fearful and to ensure they never grow numerous enough to threaten the Fairest City.

The Downfall of Calipyg

Calipyg is a warning to those whose hubris lead them to remove themselves from the Great Games of the Empire. The roiling, endless, succession war keeps others vital and strong. They left us fighting for the Sceptre to fashion themselves a crown. But they made it too big, too grand, and now the Blight throttles them with it.

Behold, your new masters
The City

A city state on the coast of the Friendly Sea, built upon a string of islands in the salt marshes found there. No matter the season it is haunted by a pervasive wetness that, rather than simply fall from the sky in the right and proper manner, comes from the very air itself. It sticks to the bones and lends a counterpoint of decay to the wealthy polis. Everything is soft to the touch, a veneer of rot. The most affluent household will have moss climbing their velvet curtains.

The city is ruled by a line of Queens. The last succession caused something of a stir, where no female heir stepped fourth to don the Seven Faced Mask and wield the Concordant Staves Which Make Clear the Way. Not unheard of, certainly, but a scandal worthy of the finer tea-houses for sure. As is tradition, the male heir stepped into the position of Queen of Calipyg and accepted the Greater Seal.

The Seal

The Seal is practised among royal lines and some among the upstart middle orders putting on airs. The Lesser Seal, considered to be very fashionable, is a simple castration whereby the testes and scrotum are removed. Further, some accept The Greater Seal. Rarely seen outside of the aristocracy due in equal parts to its gruesome nature and difficulty in finding someone with the skill to cause such a heinous wound without killing the patient. Quite a feat in this foetid environment. Since the surgeon must perform a full emasculation it is entirely likely that anyone without the means to recuperate at leisure is likely to die in bed surrounded by their family and the sweet stench of necrotic flesh.

Many social practises have evolved around the Seals. Nobles who were both brave and wealthy enough to survive The Greater Seal take every opportunity to publicly urinate through richly adorned pissing horns, kept conspicuously slung under one arm when not in use. In turn, it is equally common for any noble or ambitious bourgeoisie to own one and wear it when in high society, Seal or no Seal.

The nobles, due to these practises, have understandable trouble with procreation. The most common way a new noble is born is through scandalous liaisons between female members of the aristocracy and low-born proles. This process is an entirely traditional and secretly accepted, but openly shunned, practise. One doesn't wish to give the under-classes ideas.

A typical Calipygeon night dockside
Necromancy

Calipyg used to be synonymous with necromancy and self mutilation, with one imagining the dead standing at every corner serving their butchered masters, but the truth falls short. Necromancy is reserved for the royal families, of which there are many, and is primarily used to maintain their own tenuous existence rather than frivoled away on the lesser social orders.

As can be imagined in such a society, magical knowledge is common amongst those who can afford to be tutored in it. It would be terribly shameful, and mark them as someone who works with their hands, to ever admit to not having one jot of necromantic prowess. This has, again, led to much duplicity at parties, with every noble attempting to outboast another with their stupendous age bought at the expense of others.
"Why I'm 200 years old if I'm a day!" 
"Well I consider it to be terribly gauche to count past 100", and so on,

They like to remind those too poor to afford immortality of what is to come

The Blight

But now Jewel of the West it is faced with change. The marsh is deep, nearly impassable, but what good is that against an invader that emerges from the cracks in your streets? In your basements and your palatial garden? The answer is of course none whatsoever. The Blight emerged from their deep mycelium some score of years past and broke the city overnight. 

From beneath, they devour

The city is sealed. Its people are tasked with building a vast tower with no reason given, no sense apparent. The nobility are placated by their conquerors and in turn keep the people in line. A secret police stalk the streets, distinguished only by their loamy smell and the faint hint of tendrils beneath the skin. None come in, none leave, the masses are fed by huge spore-bearing mushrooms. They gather around them each morning and fight for scraps. The nobles maintain a brisk smuggling ring so they may keep up appearances, but that can only last so long. The Blight knows, but they tolerate. They see everything and are content to control and build.





Queen Iacobetta d'Valaseno Taiapetra IV
The Blue Lady

The ruling family of Calipyg were purged, ensuring the nobles had no one to rally behind. In the confusion of the initial invasion there was little time to get the royals to safety, as such most were killed. All except the only son of Queen Iacobetta, the recently ascended Queen Benvenuto.

He now ostensibly leads a resistance, out in the marshes, though no one has seen the young Queen since the purge. Maybe an enterprising courtier took off with the mask and staves, plucking it from the young prince's corpse and becoming the beacon the Blight had hoped to quash in it's founding. What is certain is that the police search for the Blue Lady, uplifting slogans of revolt are scrawled in the public square under the noses of the surveillance bulbs, people whisper Her name in the queues at the spore towers.

The Blight want her dead, Queen or no.