Floodwaters: Part 1

Marching Season

It had been months now since Captain Berkant of the Talaran Army had accepted a post at Fort Pinnacle, a small and unassuming garrison at the southernmost tip of the eastern mountain range, straddling the border between Talar and Gora. The fortress itself was built to be as inconspicuous as possible, constructed by gnomish masons into a gap between a steep hillside and the tall stone formation the locals called The Pinnacle. Berkant, being from Ankhazir, was shocked at first by the quiet and solitude of his new posting. Fort Pinnacle was serving primarily as heavily armed watchtower.

It had been three years since the orcish army, fighting alongside summoned demons, had breached Gora and begun driving gnomish refugees into Talar. For nearly as long, the people of Talar had failed to see the signs that the orcs would come west, despite the gnomes’ dire warnings that this new army was nothing to be trifled with. And then, the previous summer, after Talar had made what was, in Berkant’s mind, a terrible mistake in seceding from the Empire, orcish scouts had been spotted as far west as Castle Kyr, and hobgoblin raiding activity had tripled over that season. Things had quieted down once the weather cooled and the windy season had begun in the Goran high desert, but tension had been mounting recently with the knowledge that orcs considered spring their marching season--as an old adage about the scourges of the steppes said, “March in spring, conquer in summer, feast in autumn, starve in winter”. Orcs were formal in the way they did things, even if that form made absolutely no sense to humans, and one thing they were known for was their penchant for spending the lean winter dreaming of battle.

Berkant realized he had been woolgathering, staring out onto the flat plateau of Gora’s western desert as the light from the setting sun faded slowly, when he heard First Lieutenant Hamide’s sword jangling behind him. “Captain, I’m here to relieve you,” the soft spoken young officer said. From what Berkant had been told, Hamide had once been something of a firebrand. But she had been at Nalcira when it became a battleground for the djinn and arapashni. After what she had witnessed there, she wanted to be as far away from the city as she could. Personally, he would have picked someplace nicer than Fort Pinnacle for a retreat.

Berkant smiled. “Thank you lieutenant, my mind was wandering. I’m ready for a rest.”

Hamide’s nose wrinkled, a look of concern on her face. “It might just be a memory of Nalcira, but...do you notice a bad smell?”

Berkant frowned, taking a moment to sniff the air. It was there, faintly--a sulfurous, rotten smell, shifting with the breeze. “Yes, it’s there. I don’t know what it means. It doesn’t smell like an army, it doesn't quite smell like an old latrine…”

As the two Talaran officers conversed, trying to discern the source of the disturbing odor, the line of twilight moved further and further west, finally enveloping Fort Pinnacle itself as the sun became a thin line somewhere in their homeland. And in that moment, they struck.

A rustle of feathers, a whistle of wind, and the thing--it looked to Berkant like a mix between a vulture and a man, the stench of it overwhelming--hooked a talon deep into Hamide’s back, blood suddenly gushing out to stain the stone battlements behind her. Glancing around frantically, Berkant saw several more of the things, they must be demons, land on the battlements and down in the yard of the fortress, quiet and deadly as wind, taking out all four patrolmen, leaving a mangled mess of the quartermaster and the smith down below. He tried to cry out, to warn the platoon enjoying their evening meal inside the fortress that all was not well, that they were all going to die In that instant he looked up to see another vrock, this one plummeting down from above, land on his shoulders, forcing him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. The demon, a grin of pleasure on its twisted face, very deliberately raised a talon and brought it slowly to his chest, ready to silence his breath forever. Berkant, however, had been picked to lead this platoon for his record of always keeping his head, and, looking away from the gleeful demon, he reached into a small leather pouch attached to his belt, grabbed a small red object, and hurled it up and away. As the vrock’s talons sank into his lungs, there was little more that he could do.

The message bird, a bright red one pre-folded and written for a very specific emergency, sailed lazily up and north, into the mountains above. In terse, precise language written in terse, precise handwriting, the message read:

From: Captain Berkant, Fort Pinnacle

To: High Artificer Silvershaper

Fort Pinnacle has fallen

The border has been breached

Hamil rubbed his hands together in anticipation as the gangplank descended from the old Araden carrack, a ship that could only be the Alakhshab. Proving Hamil’s conjecture, he saw the balding head of the old trader Masoud peek out of the ship’s cabin. This should be good, Hamil thought. Masoud had never failed to bring him something interesting. Masoud waved Hamil toward the ship--did he seem a little reluctant?--and Hamil strode toward the gangplank, ready to get first rights on anything the Araden had brought across the Aster Sea.

As he stepped across the gangplank, Hamil looked out over the bay of Cordillera. Always a busy port, it was swarming with ships right now, the winds having shifted with the coming of spring which made a trip from Arad or Duvrain an easy and profitable thing. Hamil watched as a Ishannan ship sat, moored at the edge of the harbor, watched over by two Imperial customs galleys and allowed no closer by Eracian law.

The warmth of spring in Cordon was not something that had begun to seem real yet for Hamil. He had spent much of the winter in the frozen north beyond human and even dwarven civilization, the cold seeping into his bones and beyond. Fighting giants and barbarians, crossing frozen lakes, and helping to excavate ancient ruins hadn’t really been his style--and he still had the scars from a very unexpected wolf bite on his backside to prove it--but the spoils had been beyond his wildest expectations, and the shop he and his daughter ran together was becoming something of a legend for the exotic and finely-crafted weapons, armor, and relics he now sold.

Nevermind the fact that one of the local Master Armors had very nearly succeeded at burning down his shop. The magical items would have been just fine anyway.

Mamoud came forth from the ship’s cabin just as Hamil reached the deck, and the two of them clasped arms in the custom of coastal Arad. “It’s good to see you, Hamil!” the older man said, but he seemed exhausted, even sick.

Hamil raised an eyebrow at him. “Rough voyage,  Masoud?”

The merchant, dressed in a rich red silk robe, shook his head. “Not really no, my friend, I am just getting a little too old for such a voyage.”

It was beyond obvious to Hamil that Masoud was lying to him. Would I have been this suspicious before I went north? It was an easy question. Hamil’s voyage had definitely made him more paranoid. Him and everyone else who was there.

“So,” Hamil said, ready to ignore the merchant’s prevarication and move on to the main event, “What did you bring me this time, Masoud?”

At this the merchant smiled genuinely. “Such interesting things, Hamil. I hear your fortunes have begun to grow in the last season, perhaps there are some things here I would not have made an effort to show you before.”

Hamil gave the trader a good-natured grimace. “Good to know I finally rate your best wares.”

“Oh I did not say that!” Masoud said as he beckoned Hamil to follow him into the ship’s hold. The next hour was spent haggling and bargaining as Hamil tried hard not to let himself be overwhelmed by the luxurious and often enchanted goods--many of them contraband and even more of them clearly looted from tombs and ruins--and in the end, both of them felt cheated. That was as good a sign as any that it had been a fair trade.

“So Masoud,” Hamil said as he signed the bill of sale, and as Masoud’s sailors loaded Hamil’s spoils up on to a large cart, “will you be in town for a while? I could use a drinking partner.”

Masoud looked a little regretful--for years the two of them had tried to outdrink Hamil’s wife, now dead at the hands of the Nereneans’ armies, but to no avail. “Yes,” he said, “we can talk about old times. I’ll be here for three days or so, unless something goes wrong.”

Hamil noticed a tremor in Masoud’s voice, but thought better of pressing it. “Well, you know where my shop is, come and see me any time! I’d better head back that way.”

Masoud nodded. Hamil had turned and was adjusting a few things on the cart when he heard the sound of a door swinging open, followed by the hiss of Masoud’s breath. Looking up momentarily, Hamil saw one of the porters stumbling against the frame of a cabin door that lead to a smaller store room where Masoud normally kept his food and sundries. Masoud lunged for the door, closing it as quickly as he could, but something caught Hamil’s eyes before it shut.

A snake skin, shed and lying on the planks of the deck. A snake skin as long as a man.

Hamil took his leave from Masoud, the older man pretending pleasantries as he hustled Hamil down the gangplank.

Whatever that was, it’s not my problem, Hamil told himself, firmly and repeatedly, as he made his way back to his shop. But he had a feeling, deep in his gut, that it might very well become his problem whether he liked it or not.

“Can you believe this, Gunnr?!” Henrik shouted, his young and still gawky frame barely able to carry the pile of riches in his arms.

Gunnr turned around, shaking his head ruefully at his younger brother. “What, did you not believe any of the stories our Papa told us?” Truth be told, Gunnr was a little dazzled himself, a sack of silver coins bouncing against his leg in time as he walked through the pine woods of northern Bayern. All around them, other Hohenshaufers, all members of a recently formed group of mercenaries based around the town of Hokblad, moved northward through the forest. Having sacked the small town of Maldenburg with almost no resistance, they were hustling back across the Hohenshau border, where they would divide up their spoils and plan their next raid. Papa was right, Gunnr thought angrily, the Empire took everything from us. And we just let it happen, for centuries!

Luckily for Gunnr, Henrik, and their cohorts, the Council of Caer, held nearly a year ago, had given Hohenshau her freedom, and the Winter’s Althing, a meeting of all the clans in Heideberg not three weeks ago had broken the last of Hohenshau’s chains. They were free to raid the weak farmers and burghers of Bayern again, and take what was rightfully theirs.

Gunnr noticed that their sergeant, Kajsa, had stopped ahead of them, her stern scowl stopping Henrik dead in his tracks. “We’re not home yet boys,” she said, her voice quiet but unmistakably stern. “Concentrate on moving quickly and quietly. We’ll count our coins when we’re back at camp.”

Henrik saluted, nearly dropping a brass lamp he was keeping under the crook of his arm. The brothers moved on, as silently as they could manage, through the pine needle mast of the forest floor. Going by Kajsa’s maps, they were soon within about a mile of the border. Without warning, the entire front rank of the raiders, Kajsa among them, disappeared from sight, and the forest began to echo with gurgling cries of pain. Gunnr’s heart was in his throat as he began running forward, trying to see what had happened to the troop’s leaders. Just as he reached the edge of a deep pit, filled with wooden stakes and now with the bleeding bodies of the people he admired most, he heard a sickening thump. He knew what he would see before he turned, but he had to anyway. He had to be sure.

Henrik stood behind him, wavering, the brass lamp rolling across the forest floor to fall into the spike trap. In Henrik’s chest were three green-fletched arrows. Gunnr made eye contact with his little brother, but before he could say any words of reassurance, searing pain and a staggering impact sent him reeling. Looking down, he saw the throwing axe that had lodged its way into his shoulder. His consciousness faded as the weight of it tipped him over, down into the pit. 

Dita sighed, a tear coming to her eye as she retrieved her arrows from the young man’s chest, wiping each clean with a rough cloth before returning them to her quiver. She spotted her aunt Jetha’s lamp down in the pit, but as she turned to climb down into it, she saw blood, still wet, on one of the spikes, and suddenly felt so enervated she was forced to sit down abruptly on the ground. She was still looking up at the branches of the fir trees above her, trying to force back her tears when  she saw Ewald’s face, three days of stubble and a grimace marring it, hovering over her.

“Was it really necessary, Ewald? Did things have to get this bad so fast?”

Dita’s old friend sat down next to her, groaning as his sore back tried to bend. The two of them had lain in wait for hours, finishing up their vindictive defenses while the Hohenshaufers went to work on Maldenburg, and neither of them was still so young that it had been easy on their bones. “As much as I hate to say it,'' Ewald began quietly, “I think that ranger was right. If we’re going to survive, or at least give them pause, we’re going to have to show them that we’re willing to fight, and that just because they sack our villages doesn’t mean they know the land well enough to make it their playground. I didn’t know they would bring across such younglings though.” Ewald frowned, looking down at the axe wound he’d carved in the shoulder of a boy no older than nineteen. Impulsively, Ewald reached out and took Dita’s hand, for what must have been the first time since he’d returned from the Feylands. 

Dita smiled slightly, then got up and dusted herself off. “Well, we’d better go see what the damages to town were, and get the others back here to help us carry all of this home. It’s not like those are going to be the last of them.” The two of them crept through the woods with a hundred times the grace the raiders had shown. This hurts more than I thought it would, Dita thought to herself as the odor of blood began to blend with the bright scent of the forest.

A primer on monstrous races

The following is an array of information on the rarer and more monstrous races that live on the continent of Eracia--creatures denied citizenship by the empire itself but often still living within or at the fringes of society. 

Lizardfolk

Unlike many other races, who were caught up in the desperate war between Titans and Gods, the lizardfolk thrived, largely due to the influence of an unlikely patron. A titan, its name lost to time, was badly injured fighting in what is now southern Fianna, and the monstrous god limped toward the ocean. When it reached the marshes along the continent’s marshy southern coast, it was given shelter by a local group of lizardfolk. When it died, it passed a sliver of its power on to the tribe’s chieftain, who would become the God-Emperor of the lizardfolk and rule for thousands of years. Despite conflicts in the past, the lizardfolk had become the allies of the Emilian city of Pezane, and their god-emperor earned a massive and beautiful palace built for him. In 1108, however, the libris mortis conspired to kill the god-emperor. In their grief, many lizardfolk sought revenge against Pezane, thinking the city had killed their ruler. A group of priests, now trying to hold on to the power of the god-emperor, fell under the influence of a vengeful Pezanian politician named Emilio Torazzi and began carrying out assassinations in the city. A group of adventurers traveled to the god-emperor’s palace and stopped the grief-stricken priests, clearing up the misunderstanding between the lizardfolk and Pezane.

Since then, under a new agreement, the lizardfolk have begun functioning as an elite guard for Doge Francesca and the government of Pezane. Aside from their allegiance with Pezane and their history in the marshes, lizardfolk might decide to adventure for a number of reasons, and due to their connection with nature and their small, camouflaged forms, they make excellent rogues, rangers, and assassins. Via the power dispensed by the god-emperor, they also hold the distinction of being the last race (other than the fomori who still in some cases hold on to boons granted long ago) to use Titanic divine power.

Centaurs

Centaurs, for the most part, all hail from one place--their home plateau within Fianna, near the northern border of Emilia, within the borders of Ceridwen grove. Based on the Empire’s aggressive treaties with Fianna it was theoretically part of the Empire, but no legionnaire ever set foot in their land. While they acknowledge the archdruid of druidess as their ruler, they are not part of a Fiannan grove. They do, however, keep close ties with Fianna and travel across the nation freely and frequently. Centaurs, in addition to being powerful runners have a strong martial tradition and a culture that includes a number of different types of ceremonial combat. Centaurs tend to be interested in astronomy and poetry, and often llive either independently or in small family groups. Unlike a lot of other social creatures, including humans, centaurs are capable of long periods of solitude. Currently, a number of centaurs dwell near or in the city of Pezane, fulfilling a contract to Doge Francesca to rebuild parts of the city they destroyed while erroneously punishing Pezane for the actions of rogue lizardfolk.

Satyrs

Long before elvenkind began forming pacts with fairykind, they made allies of the forest-dwelling satyrs, a gregarious and artistic race of goat-horned humanoids. While satyrs have, as a race, rarely played a role in politics or history, they have quite often been advisors, historians, and spies. Most of their culture is conveyed via an oral tradition that includes a number of songs, and those satyrs who prove the most skilled at memorizing the ancient tales often become bards. Satyrs like to dwell in large clan groups, and they find it difficult to be away from the forest for too long. After the destruction of Taliesin Grove, an enormous number of satyrs relocated to the Wold and the Brittanwood, and some migrated as far as the wild wastes of Bayern. Due to their prominence in Fiannan society, Imperials have a tendency to think of even the ones living among them as spies for the druids.

Fairies

When one thinks of fairies, one likely thinks of a butterfly-winged pixie, but in reality the tiny sylvan creatures are a varied, multimorphic race who usually exhibit insectoid or amphibian qualities in addition to their humanoid qualities. Adapted to dwell in their sylvan environments, the most common types of fairies are the cricket-legged grigs, butterfly-winged pixies, and aquatic nixies. Fairies were once exclusively a hostile race with little unified culture, organized into small “courts” which were usually located in shallow hollows underground. Though the timing is uncertain, at some point the elves made it their mission to unite and acculturate the fairies, which has divided them superficially into two types of courts--Seelie, or those adopting the mores and culture of the elves of their region, and Unseelie, courts who seek to evade the civilizing force that the elves bring with them. Due to their size, a court can be located almost anywhere, their only requirement a queen to lead them and determine their course. Individual fairies leave their courts quite often, and for a race so organized around centralized society they fare quite well on their own. Their size limits their effectiveness in some types of activities, but all in all they have much the same diversity of talent and interest as humans.

Minotaurs

The traditions of the minotaurs, the firbolgs, and many giants seem to agree that the minotaurs were originally engineered to be troops in the wars against the humans and their gods. They were, however, devised later in the wars when the Fomori had abandoned all ideas of subtlety and domination and had instead begun slaughtering the non-giant races of the world. As a result, where there has been archaeological evidence of other “projects” advanced by the fomori, a massive number of minotaurs survived. They also seem to have been divided into at least two sub-races, with the mountain minotaurs of the Grey Moor and the dwarven mountain range being the most common, and most intelligent, type of minotaur. Where their larger cousins dwell either underground or in solitary canyons, the mountain minotaurs tend to wander as herds, keeping fields and gardens across the land and eating steppe grasses when necessary. Many minotaurs of both varieties are accomplished herbalists. This is likely due to the fact that, with their multiple stomachs and slower metabolisms, they are able to test potentially dangerous herbs with less chance of lethality than more strictly humanoid creatures would experience. Thanks to their interaction with elves and fairies, some minotaurs have taken up Gaia-worship, and as such it is not unheard of to find practicing druids among them where other clans might simply have sages and herbalists. Some minotaur tribes also function as mercenaries, either for giants or occasionally for humans. 

Thorns

Though the Fiannans are tight-lipped about these deep sylvan creatures, they seem to have appeared more recently than almost any other race on the face of gaia. Part plant and part mammal, they retain the characteristics of both but rely on a world where they can be in contact with both. A thorn kept away from sylvan shadows for too long begins to wither and fade, but so too does a thorn left in solitude in the deep woods. While the fiannans and elves were aware of their presence based on some discovered records for at least a thousand years prior, Imperial citizens (with the exception of the occasional wide-ranging Emilian) knew nothing of their existence until they faced them in the battles of the Fiannan conquest. While often childlike in appearance, thorns tend to live longer than humans and are very skilled at woodlore and survival.

Orcs

No one, including the orcs, seems to be certain of their origin. Their earliest point of contact seems to have been the gnomes of Gora, who continue to contend with them, and though most orc tribes are now located in the steppe lands beyond the eastern mountains, their range was once much larger, spreading out across Talar, Baegnolia, Nordest, and the hills of eastern Emilia. By the time Araden settlers arrived in Talar, the war between the Cult of Neren and the Silver Brigade--as well as the changing climate caused by the eruption of the massive volcano at the desert’s northern end--had driven them back. Later, Imperial forces separated a number of clans from their eastern brethren and they were forced to flee to the moors and the northern mountains. They dwell there now, though in much smaller numbers.
Orcs are a warlike race, culturally concerned with raiding and the extraction of tribute as well as valor and often-suicidal risk-taking. Recently, they have encountered greater troubles, and orcish society has been upended. Scant reports and legends indicate that a few decades past a successful orcish warlord ransacked a nation far to the northeast that had in its employ a number of demons. The demons did their best to trade their old masters for the far more pliable orcs, and today the orcs themselves only seem to be in control of a legion of demons. Continuing to consolidate power, the warlord moved south and began attacking Gora, driving thousands of Goran gnomish refugees westward to Talar and across the continent over the last ten or so years. Now, they are poised along with their demonic “servants” to cross the borders of Gora into Talar, an event that could prove disastrous for everyone on the eastern half of the continent.
Though they are discriminated against, some orcs have attempted to live in small groups or near enough to humanoid societies that they can trade with them, and some have become guards or mercenaries. Ultimately, however, while many orcs might have a good reason to leave the problems in the east, they are bound to their clans. If one were to meet an orc out in the wild, it would be more likely that they hailed from the mountains and moors.
Orcs, while fundamentally somewhat chaotic, bind their society together with intricate rules about territory and combat. They also consider goblinoids to be lucrative clients, and will often form pacts with or attempt to dominate goblinoids, depending on the circumstances.

Firbolg

The firbolg were, in many ways, a failed experiment. Designed by the titans to be infiltrators of human society, they were far too large, and instead relegated to become laborers. According to their oral histories, they began to rebel against their giant masters almost immediately and have done their best to thwart the ordning since, living in small communities and often in family groups, finding homes in the deep wilderness and places where the shackles of their intended overlords would not find them. Firbolg have a tendency to be so individualistic that it makes them difficult allies even among their own race, but to be accepted by one is to have a friend who will not forget you. Due to their solitary nature, however, they tend to relish keeping pets, sometimes of monsters or exceptionally fierce beasts. Firbolg numbers have dwindled over time due to these tendencies, but they don’t see this as a deterrent--where humans might become uneasy at seeing abandoned villages and homes of their kind, firbolgs have no such conceit that there is a value in numbers. To be a firbolg is to strive to be free, and to be overly concerned with anything else would make for an odd one among their people.

Myconids

Not far under the earth, a vast network of caverns stretches across the central part of the continent--Tintagel, Martel, Bayern, Brecon, and parts of the grey moor and Emilia--which are home to the myconids, sentient fungal creatures who communicate using spores. These creatures, when they grow older, tend to be intelligent and logical creatures, but their priorities are often a mystery to the humanoids who dwell on the surface. Once more plentiful, the myconids forged treaties with the Hillfolk tribes and the Marteli, allowing those civilizations to use their tunnels for trade in exchange for providing aid to the myconids when called upon. They consider the treaties and agreements in effect today, and will occasionally ascend to the surface to trade with humanoids in the strange, quick sunlit world.

A Primer on the Kingdom of Martel

Below is a primer on the Kingdom of Martel, one of the most prominent provinces in the Eracian Empire, divided by duchy and broken down by points of interest.

1. Nescaux-Loire: The most mountainous region of Martel, this duchy is a mountain pass away from Eracia and has long enjoyed not only trading with the empire’s homeland, but also in controlling trade to Eracia.

1. Mt. Nescaux - visible from many miles away, this southern terminus of the Capricus Mountains is famous around the world. The weather here is as unpredictable as the scenery is beautiful, and while many rich and famous people have built villas on and below the mountain, these chateaux are nearly castles, built to withstand the most violent of storms.
2. Sausanne - A hemmed-in port town of faded prominence, this once-great city is still impressive in its own right, and its people are linked culturally and socially to Eracia. The Martelan branch of the Bardic College is located here. The city was an ally of Phillip the Third’s during his succession crisis, and as a result he has favored them with many gifts and economic stimulation.
3. Loire - Ducal capital of Nescaux-Loire, though rarely home to its line of Dukes, who have long preferred the solitude of the countryside. Loire is an important wine, cheese, and crops hub, and is a stop along the road from Eracia to Marnes. The city itself is in a semi-arid valley that’s supplied water from the Sess and Altiru rivers via aqueducts that predate the establishment of Eracia by hundreds of years.
4. Monde Hills - a semi-arid wilderness, this area has been experiencing problems with monsters lately, which has posed a problem for the vineyards nearby.
5. Brittanwood - ancient site of folklore, limber, and of course conflict with the Hillfolk and later the Tintagelans. There is a famous battlefield deep in the woods where the Boar King of the southern Hillfolk once failed to invade Martel.

2. DuBlanc: The least populated and wildest duchy of Martel, this land has ties to Brecon that go back thousands of years.

1. Ft. Luna - established centuries ago on the site of an old lycanthrope settlement, Luna has seen a resurgence of werefolk over the last few months emerging from the Brittanwood, rather than their usual infestation of bandits.
2. DuBlanc Vineyards - new Fiannan clients have given DuBlanc, once the least prestigious vineyard in the province, a new lease on life, and have drawn a lot of strangers to the region - not all of them savory.
3. Chauvret - Small by Martelan standards, this old and slightly derelict city is on the rise again with the changes taking place in the Empire.
4. Vertrand Hills - A long, peaceful border with Brecon, but a good place for people to hide.
5. DuBlanc Highlands - Verdant but rugged, this region has many caverns and constantly struggles with monsters.
6. Durand Barrens - A mysterious, monster-infested region where archaeologists have begun uncovering remnants of a civilization of giants and their kin.

3. Laurent: This region is vast, profitable, and dull, though its capital is an important trade and cultural center.

1. River Loup - Laurent’s western border, it flows into the Seil d’Ronde and there are many fishing towns along it - there are also many bandits living around the river’s rocky shores.
2. Weirland Hills - Under the view of Ft. Luna, these hills have remained peaceful, but recently strange troubles with lycanthropes and extraplanar interlopers have become increasingly common.
3. River Durand - an important trade route for agricultural products. Most crops from Laurent’s interior are shipped to the coast via this river.
4. Laurent - Home to a prestigious university, Laurent lost clout recently but its school has been gaining students from families who don’t want to send their children for educations in “disloyal” provinces, such as Emilia.

4. Leque: This duchy’s odd shape speaks of its martial past, when the warlords of Leque conquered portions of Laurent and Mercoeur in order to control shipping and gain a border with Marnes. This province is the greatest source of skilled soldiers in the Martelan army, and its cavaliers are famous across the continent.

1. Martyrwood - This forest straddles 3 duchies, but the majority of the industry and hunting that takes place in it happens in the eastern quarter. A famous hunting ground favored by Philip the Third is located here, and it’s also the source of some of the continent’s best hardwood for the production of furniture.
2. Rondel River - This river flows past the Martyrwood after the Durand empties into it, and is used to ship numerous goods from Laurent and the farms of northern Leque. River pirates flourish here despite centuries of attempting to control them.
3. Leque - Architectural and culinary jewel of the eastern coast, but also a home for unsightly and rough shipping facilities, Leque is a place with a diversity of influences, and nearly every culture in the world can be found here.
4. Dunon - a large city in western Leque, it’s a place for the well-to-do from all around the province to come and play. There are many chateaux in and around its gentle hills. It overlooks the most beautiful part of the Martyrwood.
5. Ft. Matti - a border fort with Brecon, and a vital point for the distribution of military supplies and the movement of troops both by land and by sea.
6. Ambreaux - Thanks to the multitude of limestone caves in the Ambre Heights, Ambreaux has become one of the prime cheese producing cities in the world. Caravans ship the product to Ft. Matti, Laurent, and Marnes, but it has been consumed all over the world since before the fall of Aster Isle.

5. Mercoeur: This vast duchy was once its own kingdom and fought against Pezane for centuries to gain favor with Asterian traders before the destruction of that isle. Mercoeur has only been a part of Martel for 1100 years, and its leaders are still referred to as princes and princesses, rather than dukes. This land has an ancient culture of its own, but is an important part of Martel.

1. Mercouer - An ancient city founded on the basis of trade with Aster Isle, and an important ally of the Asterians on the continent. There is a gate outside this city showing a battle between Mercoeur and Pezane, halfling troops fighting alongside the Mercoueri to sack the city of canals long before Emilia was founded. This city’s people are connoisseurs of food and entertainment, and there are many theaters here, some of them featuring drama from across the sea.
2. Lake Lamoux and Lamoun - Lamoun is the gateway to the beautiful Lake Lamoux, a beautiful lake in Mercouer’s northern plateau. Though it’s a popular destination, there is a military presence in Lamoun due to the occasional uprising of aquatic monsters who live beneath the lake’s limpid surface.
3. Mont LaMere - a newly booming fishing town brought to prominence by the Elven War, this town is mired in corruption.
4. Cote-coteau - A vast strip of coastland south of Mercoeur, this area is full of hidden coves and dangerous cliffs. It’s a haven for pirates, and a graveyard for ships.
5. Lympia and the Golden Coast - An early colony of Eracia after its expansion began around 1050 years ago, Lympia was founded in territory that Mercouer and Marnes has fought over for centuries. To this day, the area’s culture is a mix of Martelan and Eracian. Now that wars between cities here are mostly a thing of the past, this has become a financial center and a home away from home for the rich and powerful.

6. Marnes: The center of Martel, and the center of Martelan life. What was once a tiny duchy forced to cleverness to defend itself from its larger neighbors, Marnes rose to prominence nearly 1500 years ago and conquered, by marriage, trade, and war, most of the rest of the peninsula, with Mercouer falling under its influence later.

1. Marnes - The capital and by far largest city of the province, and the fourth largest city on the continent. There are many ancient and beautiful buildings and monuments here. Recently, many of those afflicted with slavery to the Spire - an evil curse devised by the Cult of Neren who secretly instigated the Elven War - returned to the city, and are having a difficult time living normal lives. Though the city’s infrastructure is well-kept, and the slums here are much more well-organized than those in any of the other large cities in the Empire, there are still many poor living inside the walls of Marnes.
2. Sabele Vineyards - Perhaps the most famous vineyard in Martel, the lands here are owned and operated by the crown, and the revenue from their high-quality wines has filled the royal coffers for longer than anyone can remember.
3. Pt. Les - Two days’ ride from Marnes is the city’s primary seaport. Built to prevent Lympia from taxing all of Marnes’ exports, the city remains small but busy.

A Survey of Cities: Taurinum

The city of Taurinum, located in the western foothills of the Capricus Mountains, was established in -3 ER. Its founding represents a black mark on Eracian history.

Eracian expedition forces were searching for a place to build a fortress that was relatively unassuming, as they were nervous about the Martelli crossing the mountains into their territory. While looking for a place to build, they discovered silver and copper deposits, and set about building a fortress. They were confronted by a local tribe with a strong religious culture tied to totemic bull worship, who they called the Taurinii (Tor-in-ee-eye), per the usual Asterian tribal naming convention. The Eracian legion, rather than relocate their fort, exterminated the small tribe, and completed their fortifications.

The Martelii never attacked Eracia, and as a matter of fact it was only 7 years after that that a formal alliance was wrought between Eracia, Martel, the Hillfolk Tribes, and the coastal cities of what is now Cordon. At this time, the fortress at Taurinum was ceremonially dismantled, and although there are occasional monster threats (such as a black dragon attack in 192, and a devastating gnoll raid in 410), the city remains, like most in the area, without a wall or significant fortifications.

Since the city's establishment, silver and copper veins have been continually mined in the area. It also happens there was a very good reason the ancient tribe here worshiped bull totems--cattle thrive in this area, and it has become a center for raising premium meat and for curing it in various ways. Salami Taurini, for instance, is a moderately popular variety of meat as far away as Brecon and even the Capital.

Culturally, Taurinum has always been a home for the theater, and a large ampitheater named The Horns has been located near the city center since the year of its establishment. Troupes from all around make a point of stopping in Taurinum on their way between larger cities, and there is an annual drama competition here which has produced many famous actors and playwrights.
--From A Survey of the Outlying Cities of Eracia, by Estimia Laceva

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To: Jacob Van Nuys From: Agent Lucien Regarding: The Martelan Succession

Greetings, Master VanNuys, from Agent Lucien of the Revenant Blades.

Our mutual friend Mr. Morrow has requested that I provide you with a report on the dynamic situation in Marnes. My partner Courvelle and I have spent the last two months in Martel, and most of that time in the capital gathering information, in some cases with the help of a well-connected noble who I will not name here.

Since the unexplained death of Philip the Younger late last year, a number of possible candidates for succession have emerged, and to date King Philip himself has not openly selected an heir. That said, due to his increasing infirmity, there is a sense that even if he were to select an heir it would not necessarily be legitimized by the Martelan nobility as a whole. In other words, if things go poorly, we could be facing another succession crisis, something I'm sure the Imperial Corps is keen to avoid given that such crises inordinately cause suffering to the populace.

Below is a list of the five members of the royal family with reasonable claims to the throne, and where they stand on various issues that might be of concern to the Empire. We have done our best to investigate all claims made by these candidates and determine if they are being truthful in their convictions, but this isn't always possible.

Jean--As the oldest living son of King Philip, Jean has an excellent claim to the throne. However, his ambition is limited and he's known more as a career soldier than as a politician of any kind. His positions are largely quite populist due to his time among the common soldiers as a colonel in the Martelan army and as someone closely aligned with the Church of Palenous and its views thanks to his time in paladin training. His marriage to a Tintagelan landowner makes him popular among many from the neighboring province. Like most in Martel, he's strongly opposed to seceding from the Empire or renegotiating treaties. He's not interested in increasing trade with any foreign nations including Fianna, but he does believe that the dwarves have been unfairly vilified and would like to seek improved relations with them. He is in favor of increased rights for rural and urban workers, something that's likely to make him less popular with shipping concerns and vineyard owners, and is highly in favor of providing aid to those unfortunate soldiers who became Spire slaves during the end stages of the war. In what is an unpopular position, he has spoken favorably of Martel sending troops to Talar in the Spring regardless of Imperial promises of intervention in the orcish incursions there, and prior to his older brother's death he had spoken of the possibility of leading a division of troops there. He has the unwavering support of the Church of Palenous, which is also to say that other churches in the pantheon may be less enthusiastic about the possibility of his reign.

Thibault--King Philip's younger brother is a controversial figure at court, but is highly regarded among court regulars. Thibault is often generous with loans, gifts, and favors, and is what you might call a power broker. He stayed out of the succession crisis between Philip and his older brother Bastien, which prevented him from being sullied by that conflict, but helped negotiate the following peace that kept Bastien's head attached to his shoulders. As a proponent of free trade, Thibault is very public about his favor for enhancing trade relations with all foreign nations, and has worked for years to introduce Isshan merchants to the king, with very little success (The Revenant Blades are aware that the Imperial Corps is not terribly keen on some of the things available in trade from Issha that have been unavailable in the Empire to date). He has also spoken openly about the possibility of leaving the Empire, touting the notion that Martel is strong enough to stand on its own and that by maintaining the connections of trade, Martel could "grasp further prosperity while achieving greater sovereignty". That's become a catch phrase of sorts for him. It's worth noting that he has a number of allies in Tintagel, largely from rivals of the families Jean's wife Corrine is affiliated with.

Clovis--Thirty-one year old Clovis is the oldest son of the recently deceased Philip the Younger, and is the spitting image of his father. While it would make more sense dynastically to deliver the kingdom to Jean, Clovis is perhaps a more well-rounded candidate. Unlike Jean, he grew up at court, which endears him to some and is a black mark to others. His positions are less adamant, which I believe leads some at court to think they could influence him. He has not spoken publicly about his interest in the Spire slaves or trade with Duvrain, but is not interested in increasing trade with Issha due to the contraband issues it might create. While Clovis is, like Jean, interested in intervening in Talar, he is not as sympathetic toward workers as his uncle.

Doucelina--King Philip's youngest daughter is an odd candidate for the throne, especially considering that she has wavered on whether or not she wants the mantle of Queen. However, after a series of personal disasters, the princess is a widow twice over and loves and believes in her children dearly. The opportunity to put them in the direct line of succession does not seem to have gone unnoticed, and she has begun quietly campaigning for consideration. Like her uncle Thibault, she favors increased trade but is unsure regarding Issha, and is somewhat less forgiving of the elves than most others at court due perhaps to the circumstances of her second widowing. She favors rights for workers with equal fervor to her older brother Jean, but does not see the sense in providing military aid to Talar when they have seceded from the Empire. As a side note, I have it on good authority that Imperial Ambassador Petromilla Pladius has voiced her support for Doucelina to become Martel's first queen in quite some time.

Rainfroy--of all the candidates currently under consideration, Rainfroy is likely to be the least popular to the Empire and perhaps the most popular to the young and effete of Martel, as well as those who enjoy great leisure. Rainfroy, who spent much of his youth at his uncle Thibault's side, is famous primarily for partying and for attracting a following of young nobles. Oddly, however, he's recently gained vocal support from the somewhat reclusive Duke Trauvere de Terre of the Nescaux-Loire region. As far as his political opinions go, he has not said a word about either the Elves or the Dwarves, but like his uncle favors trade with Issha and Duvrain, and seems to favor secession from or at least re-negotiation with, the Empire. As a patron of the court and little else of Martel or even Marnes, he's opposed to aid for workers and former Spire slaves alike.

Please contact myself or Courvelle if you're in need of more detailed information. I hope what I have provided will assist the Corps in its mission, and I know that Mr. Morrow hopes to see increased cooperation between our organizations. As a man who grew up in Rorstad, may I also say--I hope for your sake that Spring comes quickly.

The Dragon Crusades

The following is an excerpt from a history textbook used by the Bardic College for its youngest students, ranging in age from 12-14.

The year 323 ER was unusually hot, and in Martel it came at the end of a bitter succession war. The newest king in Marnes, Adelbert the Third, had been raised as a paladin of the order of Palenous, and had been a successful general in the border disputes with Tintagel and the dismantling of the Brittanwood Bandit Kingdom in the 310s (Side note: Imperial control over its provinces' militaries was not  fully established until the early 5th century, and during this period there were some conflicts between provinces). He had won the succession conflict largely because the populace believed in his abilities as a military leader, and so upon gaining the throne he began looking for a conflict to engage in.

Due to the hot weather that year, two things happened: for one, the year saw a dismal harvest as fruit died on the vine and plants withered in the hot sun; and for another, the red dragon breeding season was both enthusiastic and destructive.

As you now live in a world without dragons, you would not have witnessed their mating habits. Red dragons in particular, however, tended to be extremely destructive in their courtship, starting fires and causing numerous casualties. Fires in the southern Brittanwood as a result of this destructive behavior angered the green dragon population there, and the two species fought with each other openly over northern Martel. Thousands died, and the grape harvest was all but ruined by fire, poisonous gases, and a fleeing peasantry.

King Adelbert had already dispatched troops to do what they could to protect the populace, but it was one of his advisers that escalated the situation. Magus Criada, Protector of Marnes and one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, hailed from the Monde Hills northeast of Loire. Her family had been killed in a battle between two dragons, and she openly sought revenge on the powerful creatures. She encouraged Adelbert to strike out decisively against the creatures, driving them back to their respective homes in the mountains and the deep forest, never to trouble the people of Martel again.

Adelbert enthusiastically embraced this mission, but soon discovered that after years of civil war, he did not have all the troops necessary to defeat the marauding dragons. After a half a year of fighting that saw far more dead Martelan soldiers than dragons, he convened--at Criada's suggestion--with the Elders of the Temples, who agreed to help him by sending out a call for assistance from soldiers and adventurers across the Empire. The church of Palenous began referring to it as "The Dragon Crusades", and the name has endured.

When the Mage Academy discovered what Criada had suggested, they brought her before a tribunal and stripped her of her rank and her title of Protector. Criada's suggestions were so far outside the bounds of a Protector's duties that she is held up at the Academy as an example of gross negligence.

The Dragon Crusades spread like the wildfire they was meant to contain. At first it was confined to Martel, and the country's economy strained under an influx of adventurers and soldiers seeking glory. Given that the red dragons of Martel had always been open about their existence, they were massacred, and the green dragons of the Brittanwood did not fare much better. It's thought that some survived, but they must have fled to other lands--no dragon has been seen in the woods in over half a millennium.

In the end, the crusade did not end within the borders of Martel. Adventurous groups made their way to Fianna only to find the druids denying them access to the deep woods, but Bayern and Hohenshau, so focused on fighting each other, did not mind the influx of adventurer coin. Though neither nation had many targets to offer, many crusaders stayed behind as mercenaries for one side or the other. Talar--at that time a very new colony of Arad--was home to a few blue dragons, and those foolish enough to trespass into the dwarven mountains in the north found a number of less intelligent white dragons to slay. The bottomlands of Bevin and Emilia brought in the last great harvest, this time of the vicious swamp-dwelling blacks. By 327, it seemed the Dragon Crusades would be coming to a stop. However, hatred of dragons was going nowhere, and dragon scales had proven a very useful component in the forging of armor. The city-states of Duvrain, in particular, were keen to buy dragon scales by the shipload during this time.

Prior to this, the Crusades could have been seen as a foolish but ultimately helpful extermination of an evil, destructive species. However, while they were not nearly as common, there were a number of metallic dragons in the Empire--good, wise creatures whom our predecessors in the Bardic Guilds, as well as the mages of the Academy, considered friends and great living libraries. Had we done more to speak out against the slaughter of the evil chromatic dragons, that would have been the end of it. Instead, using spells of true sight, priests began hunting for dragons lurking among the Empire's populace in polymorphed form. While they turned up a few reds and blacks in this manner, the majority of the dragons disguising themselves as humans and halflings were good dragons--silver, brass, copper, and gold--doing so out of a desire to observe and assist our still new civilization. This did not stop the swords and spells of the Crusaders, and while the Academy and the Bardic Guilds did what they could to give Metallics safe passage out of the Empire, many more were lost than were saved.

We now find ourselves as a society that thinks very little of dragons. On the southern continent they convene with dragons, and sometimes even allow them to rule city-states or tribes. Here, few people even think of dragons, and those that do tell stories of them as destructive monsters. I for one fear that without their wisdom we will fall behind other nations, both in magic and in culture, and the Eracian Empire will wish it had made allies out of some of its dragons. But for now, all we have are their bones.

The Nordest Colony Part 2 - The Founding

When Antorio Casse emerged from Baegnolia into the southern reaches of what is now known as Nordest, his only allies were two mule drivers, sick from poor weather, and a headstrong but powerful priestess of Inanna, Azira. Now that he was certain he'd made his way to the lands of his dreams, he allowed himself a moment to rest, and the four travelers found shelter in the rocky badlands of the south for the night. Unfortunately, during their trip through the desert the weather had warmed, and Casse found out that Nordest had at least one thing in common with Baegnolia: a hearty hobgoblin population.

The group managed to evade the hobgoblins by moving north and west, away from the mountains and down toward a grassy plain, a hasty trip that took only days. Looking out at the vast expanse of grass with no hiding places to speak of, Casse despaired, knowing that there were at least twenty or so goblin and hobgoblin scouts on their trail. But soon Azira noticed that there were signs of human life here as well. Moving them quickly north, Azira found more and more signs of nomadic humans--but she was almost too late in her deduction. The goblinoids had followed them onto the plain.

Casse would later tell an embellished version of this story that grew more colorful over the years, but ultimately the doomed party was saved by Moren grasslander scouts who had been stalking the goblinoids. Peering up suddenly from the tall grass, the Moren struck the goblinoids down in one swift attack. They extended a hand of help to the newfound humans, though the nomads seemed puzzled by the newcomers. Unable to communicate in any meaningful way, Casse and his hirelings found themselves bound in service to a small tribe of Moren, and remained their servants for several weeks. They were fed well and their maladies were healed by an herbal genius who went from clan to clan. The tribe traversed the grasslands, allowing their goats and sheep to graze while foraging for late winter plants and marking their territories and passage. Azira began to document the signs that the Moren used to signify their passage, and to interpret the messages left by other tribes. Meanwhile, Casse did his best to study the Moren language, and by the beginning of Spring he was finally able to have a very basic conversation with them. Now that the nomads knew Casse was not an invader but rather an explorer, they were welcoming and offered to take him to a trade meet.

Southwest of Casse by perhaps a day's ride, there still sits a trading post where Moren tribes meet several times a  year. It was here that the tribe's leader, Katha, brought Casse's group. He stayed there for weeks, a free and healthy man once again, and learned all he could about the lands. He was disappointed to find that there were no precious metals that anyone was aware of, as they did not venture off the grass. He did learn of the Saline Basin tribes though, and of the dwarves who traded with the tribes from the north. He was immediately thrilled to hear of dwarven activity, and when he was able he left the two mule drivers behind to convalesce and made his way north with a group of Moren who wished to trade with several tribes who operated a trading post on the site of what is now Nord. In many ways, Nord was the first city established as a result of the Expedition, as the dwarves there were pleased at the notion of doing business with Imperials.

It has been speculated by many that Antorio and Azira entered into a romance during their travels north, as these sections of Casse's journal have been destroyed. It's also extremely possible that she initiated him into the mysteries of Inanna. Whatever the case was, by the time they had reached Nord, Azira was both frightened and furious at the man she had worked so closely with, and the two parted ways. If the annals of the Furnig dwarven tribe are anything to go by, it was an explosive exit on her part, equal parts angry and fearful. Azira's departure seemed to take the wind out of Casse's sails, and when the dwarves arrived he arranged passage via teleportation back to Caer, the city the Imperials had built within Fianna to wage war against its inhabitants.

When Casse returned to Emilia the following month, he was hailed a hero by everyone except the members of the Consigliere who had bet against his success. Soon, a road was built north across Baegnolia, and it wasn't long before the new settlers discovered precious metals in the foothills of the eastern mountains. It also wasn't long before they found themselves in conflict--with elements of the Moren who disapproved of having their lands invaded and farmed, goblinoids and their orcish masters, and with the mysterious human barbarians who lived in the forests and mountains to the north of the province. The settlers persevered, and the Imperial army built Forts Alus and Saline--one to protect against the hobgoblin tribes that had harried Casse, and the other to protect the land from the hearty human raiders in the north. The army also helped build Casse, a city they used as a staging ground for an invasion into the Ceridwen grove and the Dannan coast which helped force the capitulation of the Fiannans.

Many words have been written about the Moren role in the settling of Nordest. It is hard to say to what degree they suffered or benefited from the Imperial settlements and mines. By the time anyone thought to document it, they had already been living alongside the settlers for over a century. The Basin Moren are a different story entirely of course--they've always limited their contact with other humans, including the Grassland Moren. It would seem they're difficult to make an impression on.

Casse returned to Nordest several times over the course of the rest of his life, but eventually settled down on an estate somewhere in the Sharkmaw Isles. Rumors still persist that there are strange artifacts from Baegnolia in his mansion, wherever it is. As for Azira, she returned to her life as an itinerant priestess, and eventually settled down as matron of the temple in Nalcira. She refused to speak of her time with the expedition, or what had driven her away from the man she had worked alongside.