Updated: March 05
Game may have some non-X-rated adult content, rated NC-17 - suitable for ages 17+.
EaSwords Yahoogroup for PBEM play.
Heartlanders: The people of Imarr, Capital of the Overkingdom, and its environs are Heartlanders, with fair to olive skin and black or brown hair, eyes commonly brown, frequently blue (physically similar to Italian, Roman-esque culture). Closely related to Heartlanders are the
Doskani: black hair, brown eyes (similar to Spanish), among whom female warriors are common, and
Colladi: brown, red or fair hair, blue eyes common (similar to Scots & Irish), bordering the wild Sorganzorro marshes.
Bretanian: similar to Colladi (French-Celtic culture), homelands were conquered by the Makyan tribes 6 years ago and mostly exiled or reduced to serfdom.
Do Chakan: The Chakkan plains are a melting-pot of ethnicities, including Makyan, Mongali, Bretanian, Albine colonials (dark hair, tall, fair complexion), Imarran Heartlander, etc. Native Do Chakkans tend to slim and fair, with red hair common.
Unusual human ethniticies from the fringes of civilisation include:
Norse/Nari - feudal Imgarters (Ukkoite Teutonic/Finnish) and Trafalgic vikings (Norse mythos), blond, brown or red hair, blue eyes.
Northwoodsmen (Christian) are similar, but brown hair and ruddy complexions common (similar to English).
Rigerian - fair-skinned, mostly black-haired & blue eyed mountain barbarian tribes, revere Crom.
Mongali - yellow-skinned horse nomads (similar to medieval Mongols), invincible archers, they roam freely across Do Chaka and the Forest of Angar. Ancestor worshippers
Makyan - bronze-skinned barbarian beast-worshippers, recently conquered Bretania. Revere Eritha the Herd-Goddess and their tribal animals (similar to North American Amerindian)
Heavenly Mountains - similar to Mongali in appearance, but fairer and much more civilised. Revere Hawk and Crane. (similar to Japanese)
Kartislander - black/brown-skinned native of tropical savannas, other related Nubian tribes dwell in the rain forests to the south, some - the Horde of Julah - recently conquered the Kartisland plains. Revere the Elemental Kings (similar to African)
Marrakeen (Arabic), Dosk heights tribes (Turkic), Judaic tribes (Israelite) - dusky Southlanders
Aryptian - dark, hawk-nosed dwellers amongst the pyramids and ruins of their ancient civilisation (Egyptian mythos)
Azcan - mysterious copper-skinned race from the Southern jungles of the deep Mosquito River basin. (similar to central-American Aztec)
Sorgani: The native tribal people of the Sorganzorro marshes and Coast Range mountains, they typically have black hair, high cheekbones, dark tan complexion and a short, stocky build (similar to Slavic). Blond hair from interbreeding with the Nari is not uncommon in many Sorgani clans. The Sorgani are closely related to the Suomi, the pre-Narish people of Imgart proivince.
Albine - fair to olive skin, brown or (rarely) blue eyes, rangy build - the tall, dark-haired Albines are the former colonial rulers of Imarokia. The Albine Empire across the great ocean is diminished in scope, but still powerful. Their culture resembles the medieval Byzantine Empire, and is probably the most technologically advanced on Ea.
There are also plenty of minor cults worshipping various demon lords (Akresh, Hragahl, Sarasathsa, Umalu etc), and foreigners in Imarr may worship their own gods such as the Marrakeen patron demigod Kostar the Wolf (LG), or the Makyan barbarians' storm/war god Shakka the Storm Bull (LG) and Herd/mother Goddess Eritha (N). Outlawed cults include that of the Destroyer - 'the Dark Lord of the Citadel of Chaos' (CE), his master Demon King Graz'zt (CE) , and the remaining 'Pariah Gods' - the One Other and the Goddess of the Pale Bone (both extreme CE).
Real-World Pantheons: The Egyptian mythos is worshipped in Arypt, especially Isis, Osiris & Horus. The Norse mythos is worshipped especially in Trafalgis & Settlers' Country, the Finnish mythos in Imgart Province. The Celtic gods were worshipped in Bretania, but this is now rare.
Imarr - the Eternal City. Greatest metropolis of this world of Ea. Capital and seat of power of the Overking, Tarkane the Usurper. Home to nobles and merchants, warriors and rogues, priests and paupers, slaves and assassins. Within its wide-spread walls can be found anything one can imagine - and much that one cannot...
It is the year 2744 YE. Over the past nine years the defeat of the Overkingdom's many enemies has brought much loot, thousands of captured slaves, and many returning mercenary soldiers into Imarr. At the same time Overking Tarkane's campaigns have stripped the city of soldiery, and law enforcement is weak. This is a time of great opportunity for those quick of wit and sharp of blade...A sword and sorcery D&D game of high adventure, inspired by the works of Fritz Leiber. The game uses Microsoft Instant Messenger for game sessions (no longer than 2 hours) supported by bulletin boards as necessary. Experience Points are awarded at the end of each IM session, depending on achievements and good role-playing.
ENW thread for in-character play:
Nine blocks south from the Marsh Gate, where the Brass Quarter
adjoins the Nobles' District and the Old City, Beggar's Alley
runs
off Plague Street in the shadow of the Old Wall's crumbling
masonry.
And upon Beggar's Alley sits the Meat & Gristle tavern. A
place
where Brass Quarter merchants and young rakes from the Nobles'
rub
shoulders with the shadowy denizens of the Old City.
A place where things happen.
TAVERN NPCS.
The M&G is one of many taverns owned by the wealthy landlord Vulgas Thromax, he's rarely seen there. The place is run by the capable barkeep Jereg, assisted by Rendari his consort and chief serving-maid. It serves drink, food, and has some upstairs rooms rentable by the day or the hour. Having recently undergone refurbishment, the tavern is currently looking quite pleasant!
Jereg (barkeep/manaer, known for the heavy two-handed club behind bar), human, male, 51, bald, paunchy but brawny. Clothes:
white apron, gray coat and brown trousers Wealth:
Average> A veteran of many years in the tavern trade, Jereg like things nice and peaceful.
Rendari (Chief Serving maid, Jereg's consort & freedwoman), human, female, 37 years old, 152 cm, 60 kg, long red wavey hair, brown eyes, slim build, slightly careworn demeanourClothes: sandals, brown blouse and brown long skirt
Abara of Sasan (Serving slave/dancer, Marrakeen), human, female, 27, long brown straight hair, brown eyes, dusky, slim, shapely Clothes: collar, sandals, typically white halter top and yellow loincloth. Sultry, skilled dancer.
Haarema (Serving slave/dancer, Doskani/Marrakeen), human, female, 28, long brown curly hair, blue eyes, buxom and curvaceous Clothes: collar, sandals, typically white halter top and yellow loincloth. Generally pleasant and attentive demeanour. Fair dancer
Haarema the dancing-girl.Edira (Serving slave, Gordavan), human, female, 29 years old, 158 cm, 57 kg, long blonde straight hair, brown eyes, buxom. Clothes: collar, sandals, low-cut red dress. Cheerful and flirtatious, a regulars' favourite.
'Lady' Alice of Gordava (Serving slave, former Gordavan noblewoman), human, female, 31 years old, 165 cm, 60 kg, long black wavy hair, fair skin, brown eyes, slender with full breasts. Clothes: collar,leather halter & grey loincloth. Lady Alice has never fully adjusted to her change of status from noble to slave and is often rude and obnoxious to the more timid patrons, although she's learned to fawn over the tougher types. Her noble title is a running joke at the tavern.
books, with some alterations.
Warriors (30%)
1. Duke Danius the Morbid: Obsessed with avoiding death.
2. Gnarlag Two-Swords: Ruffian.
3. Duke Jannarl: Sadistic wizard-hater.
4. Lord Karstak Ovamortes: Extremely wealthy.
5. Colonel Olegn: Elderly soldier, extremely boring.
6. Lord Rannarsh: Cruelly handsome, greedy treasure-hunter.
7. Icera(f): Cruelly beautiful dominatrix, mistress of slavers.
8. Pulgh the Slayer: Famous killer.
9. Glinthi: Master weapons-smith, moustached.
10. Harsel: Bandit chief (14 junior men, 5 veterans) raids merchant caravans.
11. Larlt: Mongali ruffian, ex-slave.
12. Quatch: Thuggish enforcer, pretty dim.
13. Skor: Adventurer from Trafalgis.
14. Slinoor: Merchant sailor, captain. Close-mouthed & suspicious.
15. Wiggins: Another stocky enforcer.
Magic-Users (4%)
1. Glavas Rho: Elderly White Wizard.
Priests (6%)
1. Bawdres the Drunkard: Chief Priest of Oloron the Sky Lord, Narjan District, Imarr.
2. Lady Ilala (f): Bored Head Priestess of the First Kings/City Spirits.
Rogues (30%)
2. Basharat the Red, Extortionist: Always polite, even while torturing.
1. Grilli the Razor: Small, greasy weasel, uses 2 long razors in combat.
3. Gnarfi Boarface. Adventurer.
4. Kranarch the Lanky: Adventurer, Gnarfi's companion.
5. Kreshmar: Alley-Basher, brother of Skel (A5).
6. Krovas the Snake: Major crime boss.
7. Pulg the Fat, Extortionist: Bald, hedonist, philosophical.
8. Slevyas: Tall, thin-lipped, Krovas' lieutenant.
9. Tres the courtesan (f): Gis's flame-haired lover.
10. Vlana the Mime (f): Young thief, hates Krovas.
11. Alyx the Picklock (f): Pretty, black-haired thief.
12. Bannat: Pock-marked beggar-thief.
13. Bashabeck: Large thief, wears orange turban.
14. Ivlis (f): Flame-haired lover of Krovas.
15. Ouwenya (f): Mongali, slim, escaped slave turned pickpocket.
Other (30%)
1.Count Glipkerio Kistomerces the Thin: Cowardly sadist, likes seeing his slaves whipped.
2. Lord Radomix Kistomerces: Eccentric cat-lover.
3. Jennago: Rich jewel-merchant. Knows the lawyer Adam Dickinson.
4. Laatyana (f): Old crone, sells wigs & other disguises.
5. Muulsh: Fat, ugly moneylender.
Arskane was the 343rd Emperor of the World.
Not that any of these young rogues in the Meat and Gristle wished to hear that.
As much for strength as for comfort, Arskane tapped ForSlake by his side. The giant Runeblade
was quiet, and gave no strength...was it mocking him? Or was it simply time to feed it
again?
Laughter at the bar was happening around a group of spice merchants.
Arskane considered his scale gloved hand and the ring beneath
it. Its weight was all the world.
He should have taken his chance to throw it into the Pit of Elder Night when the opportunity presented itself, and let there be no more Emperors of the City in the Cracks, called demons by the civilized world.
"Pray, sir. Would you be Arskane? Arskane of R'lyNobe?" a fresh
faced ruddy pink boy in green and brown pauper clothing asked him.
Squinting as though he trusted nothing so little as youth, Arskane nodded.
The boy, catching a peek at
Arskane's black features and
glinting reddish brown eyes,
dropped his gaze and backed up.
He swallowed and continued. "My
masters bid you follow me. It is
only a little walk."
The boy turned and left the table
Arskane sat at.
Arskane knew his fate led him to
the very depths of humility, but
following a slave boy down
stinking streets of a hovel that
fashioned itself the greatest City ever was the lowest. Grinning at
the irony, he followed the boy.
A few blocks later, Arskane
watched the boy run away rapidly
with his payment of a handful of
copper. A tall bald headed man
with a finely trimmed mustachio
and a apron filled with beer
stains on his potbelly waved him
in. Arskane was unmolested on his way over...he was already becoming a dread figure for his encounter
on the docks, and the rumours of
his sword; with little real magic
in sight--he seemed a figure
straight out of hell. Like his
peers, the normal disdain and
hatred of magic turned to fear in
his presence, and a desire to be
away...far away.
Unlike his peers, Arskane was not
some land locked weakling, strong
only in the mystic arts. He was of the Earth dwellers of R'lyNobe, a
race so antiquated they were not even remembered as the Ea's former rulers.As it's Emperor, he was trained sufficiently in combat to hold his
throne. This was enough to survive even the most unsubtle attack in a alleyway.
As long as he had Forslaker.
Arskane entered the room. A hush
settled over the inhabitants.
They were various..greedy eyed,
intelligent, wise, cautious, and
all hungry for information.
Would be wizards. A entire
handful.
A intrepid one dressed as a dandy, all in purple and puce, stood and
saluted in the R'lyNobe manner.
"Hail Arskane, 343rd Emperor of
the Kingdom beneath the Earth,
with dominion over all creatures,
living and dead, and all between! Hail Arskane and open his way to
the highest place! Let his wisdom and instruction have the fruit of
blessings upon the..."
Arskane held up a hand.
"Stay the address. I know it too
well. What say you, my dread
Alchemists? It is late, and I am
tired."
Arskane dropped his hood, and the
assemblage murmured in unison at
the completeness of his blackness.
He was oily black, with fine
features, full lips, and shiny,
wavy long hair falling to his
shoulders. His ears were human,
detracting from his otherworldly
appearance. Arskane's eyes were
reddish brown, and on fire in the
lantern's light of the room.
The dandy licked his lips, as if
considering how best to pick a
lock.
"It is said that Arskane is
banished from R'lyNobe until he
cures the Younger lands of the
rot."
Arskane only looked on.
"We have not assumed this is true, but we know of a person, a noble,
formerly kind of figure, now
harrowed by a kind of devouring
pox. Her Uncle is much in the way of station, being a Great Man of
the military."
Arskane nodded, seeing where this
was going.
"Since Arskane is of great
thaumaturgical lore, we seek a
trade. Knowledge for knowledge."
Another of the apprentices, the
one with greed in his eyes, spoke
up.
"You will show us your demon arts, and will take you to the rotting
duchess. You will never find her
or be introduced to her father by
yourself, but as a member of our
great society, your way could be
paved by the sorceror Hristmolio."
Arskane smiled.
"Should you have any influence
with Hristmolio or this great
society, you mean."
The apprentices looked nervous at
his lack of interest.
"I will consider it. Of course, I could easily find this person
myself with little more than the
desire to make use of the local
thieves word of mouth. For my aid in your instruction, you will
understand your role. Do you
understand your role?"
The apprentices looked at each
other.
"Of course, Arskane."
Arskane raised his eyes.
The dandy restated.
"Master, of course. We shall try
to keep you safe. We have a
room."
Arskane waved away this offer.
"The girl. Now. And remove this
one until I am ready for him."
Arskane pointed to the greedy eyed apprentice.
"NOOOOOO!" The apprentice
struggled against his fellows as
they dragged him upstairs.
Arskane made himself more
comfortable as the students
brought forth their Alchemical
heater, and a parchment with the
name of the afflicted girl's
family and residence on it.
Arskane stared at the Athanor. It was basic, yet effective for
simple transmutions. It would
have to be reforged to be of any
use at all for higher magics.
Arskane looked at the assembled
apprentices, meeting each of their eyes.
"We have much work, and little
night left to do it in. Abandon
sleep. Sorcery is staying awake
and mastering one's will."
-----------------
The strange stars of the World of Ea glinted thickly above the black roofed city of Imarr, where swords clink almost as often as coins.
Night found Arskane paying court to a oppressive, militant great house. There was a impression of noble strength and support of arms in the
grade of stone, in the flags.
One did not need the knowledge that a military commander made his residence here...it was in the bones of this house.
Two guards paid casual attention to the cloaked and hooded figure. One was observing the gold watermarks on Arskane's cloak speciously.
They waved Arskane in.
One spat as Arsken passed him.
"Albine, no doubt of it."
"Aye." his fellow guard spoke, and they said no more.
Inside the great house's foray, the majesty of the March Colonel could be sensed in fulness. The emplacement of extra off duty troops in his
den, the entertainments by the slavegirls who attended them...this was a commander who repaid loyalty in the coin of the common people.
Loyalty was a difficult coin to hold. Arskane knew it well. Ryl'Nobe, with it's putrid decadence, had lost his with little difficulty.
Someday he would go back and burn it to the ground, he decided suddenly.
A hunter green liveleried asiatic man approached. His cheeks were fat with good eating and health.
"I am Lu, servant to the Colonel of the Doskani Marches. The honorable Colonel is away currently serving the mighty OverKing. I am entrusted
to tell you that any assistance given in healing his daughter's ...affliction...will be handsomely rewarded. If you will please follow me, we
shall check in on the lady Vevaliah. She enjoys her privacy."
Arskane followed, his cloak brushing his ankles. Forslake was a comfort by his side, feeding him the souls of the poor thieves who accosted him
in Death Alley this afternoon.
Poor fools, he reflected. Why did no one in this accursed city just ask him for a few coppers? Instead they ended up with four and a half rune
carved steel in their guts, to cure their hunger.
Arskane reflected as he followed Lu up a winding stairwell and into a deserted hall. The pleasure of the guards was far from them now. No
sound from downstairs could be heard.
Further within the house, a private door was opened with Lu's keys, and a dungeon like door with a metal lock and clasp was unlocked.
Lu wretched and balked at the exiting smell. Arskane reflected that while Beggar's Alley was bad, this was quite bad. He disciplined himself.
"You will grant us some privacy. And further...."
Instructed, Lu shut up the door again, Arskane hearing the 'thud' of it's closure.
The buzzing of gnats could be heard in the room, along with labored breathing.
Rotting brushes and old hair strands going green adorned a small vanity, covered with dust.
The room was nearly pitch dark, but a small bit of starlight caught on the cover of a canopy bed in the center of the room.
A figure moved there.
"...hrrr is ettt?"
Arskane approached the bed.
"Arskane of Ryl'Nobe, Duchess Vevaliah."
"Don' call me v'at. R'nother healer. Go 'way."
Arskane only examined the swollen and rotting skin, the boils green and red like pomegrates, the flesh peeling from the the too soft and
unhealed muscles, sections of bone exposed dry to the air, the lips swollen and ruining the good muscles they were attached too.
The rot. At last, Arskane almost breathed. While his father's last request was undoubtedly bourne of the madness of his ichor addiction, it
was the last request of the 342nd Emperor of Ryl'Nobe and the World nonetheless.
Arskane prepared himself for what would be required of him.
"...rrrR have you come to zhee my great beauty?"
Arskane nodded.
"Indeed I have, milady."
Duchess Vevaliah turned her head with a grunt, and set one filmy eye upon the blue robed figure.
"Grrrds!" she grunted, with effort.
Arskane disrobed as he spoke. He wore a red doublet underneath his cloak. This he also disrobed.
"Forgive me lady. I must now be cruel. You may thank me later. You may not. Nonetheless, I will have done my duty."
Arskane covered her distended mouth with his hand roughly. The Duchess squirmed and moaned inneffectively.
Raising his Emperor's Signet, Arskane began in a low voice rising in volume...
"Ftchelectexxxx! Master of Bile and Pestilence! All things rotting are your purview! Ftchelectexxxx! Aclan god! Aspect of the Death that
floats! Your host brother calls you! You are pacted to protect my passage! The 343rd Emperor of the City in the Cracks demands that you honor
the pact between us! My passage is through your realm! Cleanse the way! Ftchelectexxx!"
Shouting now, Arskane heard the buzzing of the gnats as though all their brothers in the world had joined them in the room.
There was a way to make passage upon a woman. Arskane did so. He was rough, but did not enjoy it.
Arskane pushed the Duchess away. The hosts of Ftchelectexxx were fading, and so were the sounds of their visitation. Arskane collected his
things, and marked the changes happening upon Vevaliah as Ftchelectexxx honored their most ancient pact.
Her mottled rotting skin sagged as the vitality returned. All inducement to swell unnaturally sank out of her into nowhere. The blood hung
unnaturally in places, and ran from many openings.
Arskane tore strips from the bed to bind her temporarily. A real healer would have to be called for, soon.
Arskane left the room quickly, to find the manservant Lu fetal beside the door. His teeth frothed bloodily, as though he had been biting on the
inside of his lips. Lu tugged his hair even still, while his eyes rolled about epileptically.
"Fool! I told you not to eavesdrop! Would you listen to your death if it had a sound too? Dolt!" Arskane chastised Lu as he carried him to
the top of the stairs where he left him. Walking him to the door would create more problems than it would help.
Arskane made his way to the exit to the foray, and to the front guards.
One of them, leaning on his pike, said,
"What news, Albine priest?"
"I am no priest. You will need to call a healer, for your Lady and her man Lu are sore hurt and in need of divine touch. The Lady will recover
if you act quickly. Lu....only your gods may say his fate."
"But we have you." The other guard said. "You have come to heal the Lady. Finish the job."
Arskane came close enough for the guard to see under his hood.
"I am not a Healer, you Dolt! Summon one or you will be responsible to the Colonel her father for her death!"
Both guards blanched. One whispered fast instructions and ran past Arskane, presumably to the dwelling of a healer.
The other guard called to Arskane as he walked away from the rich noble houses.
"Where can my Colonel find you? If you have done this thing, if you have really done this, you have a great reward deserved to you!"
Arskane called back without looking.
"I can be found at the Meat and Gristle, beside Beggar's Alley, near Plague Street, away from Death Alley, 9 blocks south from the Marsh Gate.
I await his lordships favor. Bid him be careful of the neighborhood as he comes. They don't care much for ranking dignitaries."
It was why Arskane spent his time there.
(Day 140 - late in the year 2735 YE)
the mood is one of clebration, for word has just reached the city
of
their Marrakan allies' triumph over the Kingdom of Doskan at
Sasan,
eight days previously. Now Doskan itself is truly menaced, and
the
prospect appears at last of an end to this long war which has
drained the Overking's coffers almost since his self-coronation
five
years' previously.
Sunk in accustomed glumness in a dark corner of the tavern,
avoided
by the other tavern denizens, the mood is little to Askane's
liking.
Sipping a mug of a dark, barely-tolerable brew, his eyes glance
over
to a crowd of young rakes by the bar, finely dressed, the
finest blades at their belts, drinking freely as they carouse
with the serving-wenches and exchange their tales of derring-do.
Courtly intrigue, duels at dawn, the boudoirs of noble women -
the
last something of which Askane has recent experience, albeit not
very
pleasant.
One of these men catches Askane's eye. Quieter than the others,
he
has an assurance that marks him as something out of the ordinary.
Wist... Erin Wist. There are rumours he was involved in a matter
of
some import, a few months previously. A ship burned in the
river harbour that night, and there were rumours of foul magic
and
walking dead.
Such tales are often exaggerated, of course.
Wist, for his part, is of a mood little better than Askane's. The
dampness of the air aggravates his old wound, rendering its pain
to a
dull ache. The boasts of his contemporaries seem trivial, hollow,
the serving-wenches haggard and world-worn.
But, sensing the eyes of another upon him, Erin turns slightly
and
beholds the dark stranger, drinking in that shadowy corner. An
immediate premonition strikes him.
That one spells trouble.
Wist and Askane both glance over at the entrance to the
tavern as
the door opens, and a figure stumbles in out of the night. A
slender
slavegirl, naked but for an iron collar and short length of
attached chain, she is notable only for her beauty and the fact
that
she appears to be completely devoid of any hair, not even
eyebrows.
Her thigh shows the brand of the noble House Kistomerces.
After a momentary glance, most of the patrons turn back to their
drinks, assuming she must be on some mundane errand for her
master.
Wist and Askane, however, note her agitated expression, and that
her
body trembles as she looks wildly around the Inn, before her gaze
settles on Erin Wist. Quickly she approaches him, brushing past
his
surprised companions, and speaks all in a rush.
"Wist - Erin Wist! Please, you must help me, I beg you! I
know you
are the greatest swordsman in Imarr, that you slew Lord Rannat
Kistomerces in a fair duel last year. My name is Reetha, I am
wrongfully enslaved by Rannat's cousin Glipkerio. I am escaped
this very night, but his minions pursue me...
You must help me, please!"
She glances fearfully to the door, as if expecting her master's
minions to come rushing in after her...
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