The following is an excerpt from Courtiers of Dragonkind by Erindera Hamed of Sadiquo.
The Alhrash’e of the plateaus of southern Bahrasha are a nomadic ancestry best known for their longstanding cultural crafts of dye making, stone carving, and painting. Though in the modern day their numbers have dwindled, the Alhrash’e served as Draconic court artists, messengers, and scribes in the millennia prior to the Age of Advent. The name alhrash’e comes from the Draconic hrash, meaning to scratch or sketch.
As cold-blooded bipedal draconoids with an average lifespan of just fifty short years, alhrash’e are more closely related to pseudodragons and reptiles than the hot-blooded wyverns and avians to whom they bear the greatest resemblance. With powerful hind legs and superior endurance, alhrash’e can run at incredible speeds over great distances. Their vestigial wings, though not capable of flight, allow them to control their descent as they leap across the craggy cliffs of their arid homeland. Historically, alhrash’e fought by battering each other with their thick heart-shaped head plates and hunted by rending the flesh of their preferred prey, namely rhinoceroses, questing birds, and crag skrallers, with their sharp beaks. The most unique feature alhrash’e possess, however, is a sensory organ near the corner of each eye which allows them to detect ultraviolet light.
Male alhrash’e stand between 5.5-7ft tall and have dense head plates that protrude beyond their skull. Their bodies are covered in layers of small, tough, earth-colored scales.
In adolescence, all alhrash’e develop a layer of tough, vibrant featherlike display scales across their wings and face. By observing his display scales, it is easy to tell a male’s age at a glance. A juvenile will have a shawl of bright display scales over his wings and shoulders, sometimes following the line of his spine down his tail. An adult has a thin layer of display scales over the edges of his wings and face, while an elderly male will have sparse, dull display scales lining his eyes and wings, if any.
While display scales may come in any color, they are most commonly yellow, green, blue, orange, or a combination thereof. The display scales of each alhrash’e have a UV-reflective pattern, unique to the individual akin to a fingerprint. For this reason, it is common among alhrash’e to keep the scales of loved ones as a symbol of affection, remembrance, or fidelity.
Female alhrash’e are smaller and lither than their male counterparts, standing between 4.5-6ft tall. Their display scales are longer, softer, and far more pigmented, their shorter head plates hidden beneath a veil of scales. The display scales covering her head, neck, shoulders, and tail are meticulously groomed and elaborately decorated. When she moves, her specialized scales brush against one another, the rigid, cup-shaped structure at the base of each quill creating a sound like rain pattering on stone. Female alhrash’e rattle their scales for many reasons. In preawoken times, the sound was used to attract mates or intimidate enemies. With the advent of societal culture among the alhrash’e, however, these signals are used to communicate over great distances.
As a trader-nomadic culture, the alhrash’e travel in flocks across Bahrasha, moving between thousands of tiny communities known as nests. Nests typically consist of a single hut large enough to house one to four adult alhrash’e, or twice as many juveniles. They are simple in construction, hewn of layers of woven grass mats and mud bricks thatched with a layer of dense, live brush grass. Nests are often tucked beneath the canopy of shadebrush trees, whose deep black bark and vibrant red fruits can be ground into paint. This also has the added benefit of making nests easy to spot, as the trees stretch and bend towards the sky, standing out against the otherwise barren landscape.
Presiding over each nest is a matriarch known as a vsir: an unmated female alhrash’e who cannot or will not travel, often elderly or permanently immobilized in some manner, who dedicates her life to gathering and sharing knowledge. Vsir pass down oral traditions, create art, prepare meals and medicine, and disseminate news among the flocks who stop to rest in her nest.
To assist her in her duties, vsir commonly take on apprentices responsible for foraging, grinding paints, or traveling to and from nearby nests for supplies. These apprentices are often chosen from the chicks she helped to raise.
Vsir serve an essential role in the child-rearing process. Mated pairs return to the female’s home nest to lay two to four hard-shelled eggs each year, remaining over the course of the incubation period. Once they hatch, the parents move on, returning to their flock. From this moment on, the duty of caring for the hatchlings rests on the vsir’s shoulders. She sends information as to the condition of the hatchlings to nearby nests, coordinating with passing flocks to ensure she has any supplies or aid she may need while she rears and educates them.
Though they are able to walk within days of being born, alhrash’e hatchlings are tiny, uncoordinated, and weak. If left unsupervised, they are easy prey. Prone to wandering, hatchlings spend their first weeks in grass-lined bassinets before being allowed to explore under the watchful gaze of their vsir.
By the end of their second year, hatchlings will shadow their guardian’s every step, constantly uttering their favorite word, “why?” By three years old, their burgeoning curiosity will drive them further and further from the nest each day. Their first display scales emerge as a cloak of maddeningly itchy spines, not unlike an avian’s pin feathers, between their third and fourth year, the discomfort making them snappish and temperamental and driving them to wander even farther from the nest. By five years of age, they are strong enough to venture out with a flock for short distances, resting at nests during the winter sandstorms and summer floods. At eight years old, fledgling alhrash’e officially reach maturity, joining a flock to see what the world has to offer.
To learn more about the many peoples whose cultures were shaped by draconic intervention, please order a copy of Courtiers of Dragonkind by Erindera Hamed.
The following is an excerpt of Sry’e Salutations: Etymology, Biology and Beyond by Lightning Strikes the Conifers of Gallinule.
*This text onlyexplores facets of several prominent sry’e subgroups and is not intended to be read as explicative of any group therein, nor of the ancestry as a whole. Further inquiries may be directed to Artanis Lyel of the Edelweiss University in Silver Summit.
The sry’e are a mundane ancestry of medium bipedal advena who resemble a variety of feline species. While sry’e can be found across the globe, the ancestry originated in the rainforests of western Wustian. During the Age of Advent, a sizable group of sry’e were captured and displaced to Serendi via Draconic intervention, spreading internationally in the centuries thereafter.
As powerful ambush predators, sry’e are nimble-bodied, their dexterous paws tipped with sharp claws used for scaling trees or cutting down prey while their mottled, jaguar-like pelts provide the perfect camouflage to hide among the canopy. From their elevated vantage point, the sry’e of old would lie in wait, pouncing on anything unlucky enough to wander beneath their perch. While this strategy served them well, as primitive sry’e began to adapt more complex social structures, the first focus of our advenapological investigation came to be.
The Azelef of the Jungles of Wustian
The Azelef, or ancient sry’e, carry on the tradition of their ancestors, living much in the same way today as they did thousands of years ago. Reclusive and reserved, Azelef prefer to prowl their territory, lawfully defined by intricate carvings clawed into stones and trees along its boundary lines. These markings represent the territory’s name, usually depicting a notable characteristic therein, such as, “River Bisects” or “Cliff Overlooks the Valley.” Each territory is presided over by a single Azelef who takes on the territory’s title as their name.
At the start of an Azelef’s reign following the death or exile of the territory’s previous guardian, the new steward of the land will fashion an additional boundary marker along the border of the territory, symbolizing their claim. These boundary markers are considered to be an extension of the individual’s body and their dedication to caring for their land. It is considered an irredeemable crime to deface, destroy or remove any such boundary markings, as it is tantamount to defacing the land itself. Similarly, when an Azelef is killed defending their territory, it is customary to inter them near or beneath their marker.
The most sought-after territories are surrounded by solid walls of markers, some so vast that the markers themselves become a natural defense. In the instance of Cradled by the Rapids, the most sacred Azelef site, the territory itself has risen above the jungle, supported by scaffolding hewn from thousands of stone and wood markers.
Azelef who are able to defend their territory over many years often decorate themselves and their home with trophies made of sinew, bone, and hide, both to serve as a warning to trespassers and as a representation of the individual’s style. Unlike the ancestral markers left at the border, these accouterments are typically removed at the end of an Azelef’s reign.
Azelef defend their territories so fiercely because within their culture, those who fail to claim a territory are nameless. To be nameless is to be too weak to do what your ancestors have done for eons before you. Most Azelef would rather die defending their territory than yield, as to give up your claim is to give up your name—your very identity and place in the Azelef hierarchy.
The battle is not won merely because one has a territory, however. Not all claims are created equal, with the largest and most bountiful territories belonging to only the strongest and most cunning protectors. Furthermore, the limited number of territories within the Azelef’s ancestral land means that Azelef must constantly fight to defend their claim, leading those incapable or unwilling to do so to venture elsewhere in search of a place to call their own.
In these rare instances, an Azelef may heed the call of civilization, serving as jungle guides, shamans, or trappers. Those who venture even further may choose to give up the Azelef way of life entirely, leading us to the next subject of study.
The Keskani of the Bahrasha
The second race of Wustiani sry’e we will examine is known as the Keskani, or the prideful. This culture originated from a group of Azelef who abandoned the ancestral lands following a cataclysmic war between the last earth leviathan Diligence and the dragons of Westiah–the region which would later come to be known as Peravia. This war permanently altered the landscape of Wustian, burying the lush forests which spanned the majority of the continent beneath the sands of the leviathan’s rage, forming the vast desert which spans most of Peravia to this day.
Following this cataclysm, nearly one-fifth of the Azelef’s ancestral lands were left uninhabitable. This forced the sry’e who resided there to make a choice: stay and starve for their tradition or set out into the sands in search of a new way of life. To leave one’s territory unguarded is tantamount to abandoning those who guarded it before you, an unforgivable act in the Azelef culture, yet the Keskani had no other choice.
Gathering what little supplies they could scavenge, the Keskani left their home behind, facing scorn from those unaffected by the destruction. Despite the disdain they weathered, the territories they once guarded lie abandoned to this day. To survive in their new environment, the Keskani’s appearance and culture quickly diverged from that of their predecessors. To better blend in among the arid scrublands of their new home, the Keskani boast sand-yellow fur and lionlike features. Where the Azelef are solitary hunters subsisting on small game, the hardy fauna the Keskani faced required them to adapt to hunting in groups known as prides. At first, prides of as many as fifty members scraped by, however they quickly realized hunting for such a large group was unsustainable. Prides gradually decreased in size until the modern day, in which most consist of one to three males and between three and ten females.
Though they may have found a new way to survive, as they ventured further into unknown territory, the Keskani faced something they had never truly faced—civilization. Dragons soared through the sky, roosting in cities suited to their gargantuan size. Shaded beneath their behemoth wings, latura, keepers, alata, alhrash’e and numerous other ancestries lived. While we will discuss those who handled this shock differently later, the Keskani viewed draconic cities with terror, fleeing or lashing out at the first sign of civilization.
The Keskani instead pursued a nomadic life, passing over the mountains to the red clay savannahs of Bahrasha. So far detached from their home culture, the Keskani do not have territories in the same way their forefathers did. Instead, they roam across vast ranges, trading information or goods when they cross paths with other Keskani and attacking outsiders who dare to approach them. The Keskani have a particularly volatile relationship with the alhrash’e of the southern plains and the latura of Peravia.
Without ancestral territories to give them their names, the Keskani partake in a coming-of-age hunt, during which cubs are given their adult names. This ritual typically takes place at the age of 13, when young male Keskani have grown in their first mane and female Keskani are expected to join in on hunts. Before this ceremony, cubs have childhood names based on their mother’s title. For example, in one tribe surveyed, the cubs of Red Moon Shines to the East were all simply referred to as “Redcub” until they reached adolescence.
For young male Keskani, the coming-of-age ceremony serves a greater purpose. Upon successfully completing the hunt, male cubs are ritually exiled, leaving them with the option of challenging another male in the pride in order to remain or venturing out on their own to form a new pride. In some instances, a number of Keskani may leave with those exiled to form a new pride. In other cases, the Keskani may abandon their name and venture away from the badlands entirely, leading to the last of the Wustiani sry’e represented herein.
The Fila of the Cities of Wustian
The final group of Wustiani sry’e we will investigate before crossing the sea to Serendi is the Fila, or the scapegoat sry’e. Found in the urban hubs of Narah, Peravia, and the tri-nation conclave, this group of sociable sry’e originated from members of the Azelef or Keskani cultures who found themselves drawn to the sprawling cityscapes of southern Wustian. Entering society as nameless outcasts, Fila find a new home in the culture in which they settle. Using their hunting instincts and innate agility, many Fila start out as fishers, mercenaries, performers, or sailors, earning a place and a name among their neighbors and coworkers.
It is an unspoken rule that one must be careful when nicknaming Fila, as they are quick to take a title given by a trusted companion as their name for the rest of their life. During my research in Leviathan’s Cradle, I spoke with such fine Fila as, “Twelve Cups Deep,” “Hook and Line,” “Bravado,” “Daisy Yellow,” and “Lightfoot Trick.” Unfortunately, it is not unheard of for more gullible Fila to wear such names as “Easy Mark,” “Simpleton,” or “Cloudy Eyes” with misplaced pride.
The Fila’s unfortunate moniker as scapegoats comes from their propensity to be overly inquisitive, wandering where they don’t belong and shouldering the blame for crimes they did not commit. In some cultures this has led to Fila earning a reputation as thieves and con artists, while in others they are known as balaksha— outsiders with the innocence of a child in need of a guiding hand.
One sry’e of storied note whose tale does his fellow Fila no favors is River Runs Dry, a renowned thief skilled enough to burgle the private chambers of the last True Dragon Empress of Narah, Zahra the Guiding Light, but foolish enough to brag of his success. The empress, amused by his boldness, invited him back into the palace, declaring him the Master of Thieves before having him executed. Numerous theatrical productions such as Taboo, The Empress’ Jewelry Box, The Fila’s Folly and The River Runs Gold tell heavily romanticized versions of these events, most of which feature the empress warring with her love for the thief and her duty to her kingdom. These productions were banned in Narah until the Guiding Light’s Assent to Succession.
As Wustiani sry’e are notoriously exclusionary even among their own kind, it is very rare to find sry’e outside of their longstanding societies, let alone for multiple sry’e who ventured out to settle in the same place. Because of this, Fila are also known as the single-generation sry’e because of their propensity to choose a mate of another ancestry. Children born from these unions are simply known as adha-sry’e, literally “half-sry’e,” though like most cross-ancestry individuals, it is normal to choose to identify as the ancestry of whichever parent to whom one bears the closest resemblance. Adha-sry’e grow up without a concrete connection to their heritage and unfortunately are no more likely to be accepted by Azelef or Keskani than any other outsider, leading to further cultural erosion with each following generation.
The Lumutas of the Shores of Greater Serendi
Moving across the sea, a number of sry’e were spirited away from the warm climes of Wustian and dropped among the taigas and windswept mountain ranges of Serendi as part of a Draconic experiment during the Age of Advent. Forced to acclimate to an entirely alien climate, the sry’e of Serendi are almost unrecognizable when compared to their Wustiani cousins. To survive in the harsh winters of Greater Serendi, Lumutas sry’e developed thick winter coats and long ears and tails to better trap heat. Their ears are often tipped with tufts of fur to help funnel sound, allowing them to hear with acuity over the roaring winds of the taiga.
Like the Fila, Lumutas acclimated to a cooperative lifestyle, banding together with the region’s native advena to survive. Of these partnerships, the most long-lived shared culture began with the halflings of Greater Serendi’s eastern coast.
It is from this union that the Lumutas earned their name, which means peacekeeper or to untangle. One of the more popular folktales of the Lumutas’ origins comes from the village of Bodostrand, known as The Fisherman’s Keeper.
This tale states that the Lumutas’ first meeting with halfling society involved a young sry’e hunting along the seashore one winter. Her family was holed up nearby, and she the last among them with the strength left to hunt. As she prowled, she spotted a halfling man fishing in a small boat. She saw him become entangled in his net as a particularly strong wave capsized the boat, sending him overboard, the net’s weights dragging him down. The sry’e, short-furred and starving, bravely plunged into the water after him, cutting the net with her claws and dragging him to shore. The grateful halfling led the soaked sry’e back to his village, his people repaying her by caring for her family through the winter. To this day, it is rare to see Lumutas living outside of halfling settlements, to the point of some superstitious individuals claiming that passing a lone Lumutas on the road is an ill omen.
Disregarding wives’ tales, over the generations the link between Lumutas and Serendi halflings has become a quintessential part of the culture of Greater Serendi. One way in which their cultures have converged is in their coming-of-age rituals. It is typical in many parts of Serendi for children on the cusp of adulthood to go out on a pilgrimage to see what the world holds with their own eyes before returning home weeks, months, or, in some cases, even years later. In Greater Serendi pairs or small groups of halfling and sry’e kits venture out together as the tides awaken each year. While the territorial ways of the Azelef were left behind in Wustian, this practice still mirrors the ritual exile of the Lumutas’ ancestors.
Most groups venture to nearby villages or landmarks of note before heeding the siren call of familiarity. Those who enjoy life on the road, however, may go on to form adventuring parties or take on apprenticeships with traveling merchants or healers. Others may find a different clime to their liking, settling in another village or establishing a homestead together with their companions.
The Kitu of the Mountains of Kitsuki
As the Lumutas found their place as the guardians of Greater Serendi, in the warmer peaks and valleys of Kitsuki, another group of sry’e settled. Like the Lumutas, the Kitu had to learn to cooperate with other ancestries if they wanted to survive in a foreign land. While the people of Kitsuki welcomed them, they arrived amid a war between the oni of the steppes and the kitsune of the coast. Unprepared and unwilling to involve themselves in a conflict they had no stake in, the Kitu retreated to the isolated keeper villages dotted across the peaks of the country’s mountains. Like keepers, the Kitu formed large industrious colonies comprised of many individuals working towards a common goal.
After generations of selling their wares to traveling merchants and avoiding the woes of the world below, the Kitu have become a particularly welcoming people, their scattered colonies viewed in an almost mythical light among the people of Kitsuki. Kitu are always happy to welcome travelers into their den for a meal and a night’s rest, so long as you have something to contribute in turn.
While their social structure is unusual when compared to other sry’e, Kitu biology is far more alien. Like their Lumutas cousins, they had to adapt rapidly to suit their new home. Unlike the Lumutas, however, the Kitu underwent such drastic speciation that they are no longer considered sry’e at all, and are instead an ancestry unto themselves.
Over generations of climbing mountains and hunting agile, cliff-scaling game, the Kitu had to learn to make do with less. As such, the Kitu of today are small, standing at an average of three feet tall while on two legs. They are no longer carnivorous, supplementing their diet with hardy mountain vegetables, grains and berries.
Additionally, Kitu are capable of both quadrupedal and bipedal locomotion, their short hind legs, flexible ankles, and strong retractable claws honed for a life of climbing the sheer rock faces of their new home.
While many Kitu remain in the mountains of Kitsuki, a number of individuals strike out on their own. Some choose to voyage to the Minshida chain to sell their wares, setting up shopfronts stocked with goods imported from their home colony. Others take their knowledge of medicine and botany westward, becoming doctors and sages in Brindlepire and Gallinule. No matter how far they venture, however, most Kitu return to the comfort of a colony as they age, spreading knowledge of their crafts and encouraging exploration in Kitu youth.
There are countless cultures of sry’e that can be found across Aliquis, with more to discover every day as the world continues to grow. To learn more about the many fascinating feline cultures of the sry’e, please order a copy of Sry’e Salutations: Etymology, Biology and Beyond by Lightning Strikes the Conifers. To support further advenapological research expeditions, please contact Artanis Lyel of Edelweiss University in Silver Summit.
Glossary
Adhari: A categorical term for individuals or groups originating from a union between two different ancestries.
Advena (D): A categorical term for sapient ancestries of medium or small size made up of a mundane cellular structure native to Aliquis.
Ancestry (T): A group of individual, sapient beings that share a set of similar natures, origins, or characteristics.
Mundane (T): An individual or group characterized by a low anima threshold; those unable to manipulate their own anima to practice magic.
Race (T): A categorization of a given ancestry based on shared physical or social qualities generally viewed as distinct from one another.
The following is an excerpt from Plausible Deniability by Archibald Dupont of Halvori.
Humble Beginnings
In the waters above the deep-sea nation of Zaulyn, the monumental skeleton of the great leviathan, Charity, lays. The sea floor rose to greet her as she met her demise, forming a grand atoll.
“That, or it beached her one-million-ton carcass up there to make the sea bird’s job easier. Aliquis, can you imagine the smell?” -Seller “Fraud” Coin of the Black Spot
Thousands of years after her death, the crew of the Flourishing Crown, a merchant vessel from the Rose Empire of Imahl, was caught up in a storm and crash-landed on the atoll. Though the ship was destroyed, the Crown’s entire crew miraculously survived, marooned on an uninhabited island. Though the island was devoid of intelligent life, the anima of the leviathan’s remains suffused the atoll with ample energy to support a wide variety of plant life, many species of migratory birds, as well as a bountiful population of giant terrestrial crabs. Despite multiple readily available sources of food, the crew struggled to survive for months, forced to compete against the pod of ahuzo that called the island home.
After several months, another ship finally sailed near enough to catch sight of the crew’s signal fires. In the decades thereafter, numerous crews returned to the atoll, turning the ancient gravesite into a thriving stop on the trade routes between the many ports of Nacei, Imahl, and Wustian known as “Charity’s Grotto,” after the oasis-like grove the Crown’s crew survived off of nestled at the heart of the atoll. Positioned almost equilaterally between the coasts of Imahl, Nacei, and Wustian, Charity’s Grotto quickly grew in notoriety, becoming a thriving port and a beacon of hope for travelers making the long journey across the Empty Sea.
Unfortunately for the denizens of the atoll, peace did not last. On the eve of the centennial anniversary of the day the original crew of the Flourishing Crown was rescued, the Crimson Sails, an infamous coalition of pirates, beset the isle, overthrowing the burgeoning settlement and claiming it as their base of operations. As Charity’s Grotto was not under the official jurisdiction of any government a bureaucratic war of contrition broke out– particularly between the Imahli Rose Empire, the Wustiesh kingdom of Narah, and the Naceian nation of Paratesz. While the trio of powers warred over taxation rights and borderlines, the denizens of Charity’s Grotto were overtaken by the Crimson Sails, forced to join their ranks or face thousands of miles of treacherous waters in any direction.
One of the survivors of the initial attack, a trader by the name of Calianna Bridgerton fled on a homemade raft and was lost at sea for nearly three months before she was rescued. Once she made landfall in Paratesz, she documented the carnage that befell the atoll in her book, Charity’s Grave: What Killed the Port of Unity? Bridgerton is credited with coining the name “Charity’s Grave,” which would later become the moniker the atoll is known as to this day.
With such a vital handhold of international trade under their control, the Crimson Sails grew in power and influence, banding together with many other ‘privateer’ crews to form the coalition which would come to be known as the Corsair Armada.
The Modern Grave
In the modern-day, the sprawling city clinging to Charity’s bones is a haven for ne’er-do-wells and criminals of every creed, with dozens of diverse and depraved mercenary crews united under one banner. Though there is no formal government, the Armada Elite, a council consisting of the heads of a select few of the most powerful factions, serves as a panel of consiglieres to the Imperial Captain.
As Imperial Captain, you serve as judge, jury, and executioner, able to make the final call regarding any breach of Armada law. In addition, those who pledge loyalty to you are ranked above all others, meaning your crew members are able to collect a higher margin of profits when cooperating with lesser crews and are exempt from having to present annual tributes to the Armada Elite as all other crews must.
It is not an easy title to obtain, however…
The Imperial Captain is elected by blood rite, which is to say whoever is able to eliminate the former and those loyal to them takes the title for themselves. The current Imperial Captain, Ivar Darkwater, has held the title for over forty years. He is an outlier among those of his title, as most Imperial Captains are killed within a year of succeeding, either by members of their own crew looking to move up or by those trod upon in their quest for power. Another trait that sets Darkwater apart from his peers is his interest in personally training recruits his officers deem to have potential. The distinctive scar cutting across his brow and left cheek was gifted to him by one such student.
The Darkwater crew did not become the most powerful and long-lasting crew through luck alone, however. The Imperial Captain built his ranks on the backs of captives abducted from pilfered merchant vessels and coastal communities. These prisoners are faced with a brutal existence under the tutelage of the Officers of the Darkwater raiding parties in which they have only two choices: claw their way up the ranks, or die as cannon fodder.
An Insider’s Perspective
Very few outsiders are allowed to step foot on Charity’s Grave. As diverse and accepting as its roughneck residents, the city boasts many of the trappings of conventional cities with the added camaraderie which comes from being certain everyone you meet is gathered under the same banner at the fear of death. The unique mix of cultural influences from deserters of every nationality displayed here leads to a wholly unique social experience in which any number of conventions and customs may or may not be upheld at a given moment. For this reason, it is best to keep to yourself, lest you provoke a bar fight after absently raising your hand in a gesture of greeting which may be interpreted as an insult to another patron.
In spite of the cutthroat reality of the Grave’s population, the city itself is surprisingly safe– so long as you are under the protection of the Armada. Once you step off of your skiff you are subject to Parley Law– meaning any crime committed is considered to be against the Armada itself. Unless you are keen to take a swing from the Fangs, it is wise to keep your head down until you return to the safety of your vessel.
Most of the island’s permanent residents are retired members or orphans of the numerous Armada crews. Additionally, as outsiders are rarely welcomed, all of the businesses maintained on the island are owned and operated by a crew itself.
To fall under the protection of the Corsair Armada and thusly gain access to the city’s wealth of unique sociological data, any reasonable anthropologist would pledge their loyalty to the Black Spot crew. It would be the most logical decision after they so graciously allowed a particular anthropologist to accompany them following an unfortunate collision between the vessel headed to Atari-Shi one was formerly aboard and several rogue cannonballs. Though one has not yet accrued enough experience to be granted a cut of any profits, a particular anthropologist would be foolish to waste the rare opportunity to view the city from an insider’s perspective. Furthermore, please consider that if, hypothetically, an anthropologist was witness to a particular crime or crimes, they would not be obligated to notify the authorities, as it may sour the relationship between researcher and subject.
Arriving at Port
Once you make landfall, you will surely have much business to attend to. Nestled between the eye sockets, sheltered from the elements by the Skullcap, the Deadlights district is the atoll’s central hub of commerce. Composed of numerous labyrinthine structures carved from the calcified remains of the leviathan’s head, these winding streets are home to many curious establishments.
If you are looking to purchase or sell oddities, trinkets, or secrets, seek out Kyo Suchito of the Nine-Tailed Cat. If your voyage has left you yearning for nocturnal companionship, you may be interested in the services of the Cutting Fangs crew at the Listing Lady Bordello. It would be prudent to pay the asking price at the door, lest they ensure your debts are paid in blood.
If bloodsport interests you, the Scaling Ring carved into the Maw Plateau serves as a training area, an arena for sportsmanly brawls organized by the Darkwater crew, as well as the ultimate place of judgment for those who are to be thrown from the Fangs.
For entertainment of a more fantastical nature, you could venture down Spine Ridge to the Trove of Opulence. Sponsored by the Twin Moons Crew, this open-air theater features a variety of shows from across Aliquis embellished to suit the tastes of its usual clientele. If you have no interest in theater, perhaps partake in the opium dens located below the stage, then see if the performance is to your liking.
At the end of the night, those who are not eager to return to the creaking hold of their ship to rest may find respite in one of the city’s many taverns or inns. A certain anthropologist prefers the drinks at the Thunderclap Tavern on the Scapula Steps, though the rooms at the Hearty Hangman Inn in the Deadlights boast a wonderful view of the hangings from the Fangs.
If you are injured in your travels or lose a bout in the Scaling Ring, you may wake up in the care of the medic-butchers of the Pickled Crew’s Brine Room in Cleaving Cove. The Brine Room serves as the atoll’s hospital, though it can only be referred to as a hospital in the most liberal of senses. If not for the ready availability of arcane methods of healing, half of the island’s populous surely would have died of any number of infectious diseases by now. A certain anthropologist awoke in the Brine Room after a particular bout of miscommunication in a tavern which resulted in a broken wrist, and was greeted with the head Medic-Butcher’s favored adage of “you can’t re-break what’s been amputated.” One decided it would be for the best to self-medicate, after that point.
Also under the Pickled Crew’s jurisdiction, the Vat serves as a processing plant for what meat and produce is hardy enough to grow on the island– namely boar, fish, giant crabs, coconuts, and arrowroot as well as sea products such as kelp, sea cucumbers, and coral melons. If you happen to have a proclivity for hunting, fishing, or gathering, you may be able to find work here between voyages.
If it is instead your ship that has taken damage, you will likely have made landfall near the Crane’s Roost– an islet situated at the mouth of Cleaving Cove equipped with the single most valuable item in the Corsair Armada’s collection: a colossal-class graviturgical crane capable of suspending ships of any size in the air for maintenance and repairs. This crane stands out as one of the only items noted to have been legally acquired by the Armada, the commission for its fabrication and installation completed by the Guild of Arcane Architectural Advancement based in Dongbu, Ximai.
In conclusion, if a humble anthropologist may leave you with one piece of advice, should you ever find yourself sailing the waters of the Empty Sea, be certain to avoid Charity’s Grave. If you should see a ship approaching as you sail near, be certain to avoid painting a black spot onto the center of your ship’s colors. Sneaking onto the island by way of the Ribwalk during a hanging when the Spineback guards are preoccupied and stopping in for a delicious Lightning Bolt at the Thunderclap Tavern is hardly worth your life. You have been warned.
The following is an excerpt from A Traveller’s Guide to the City of Song by Pia Siegel of the Cadenza Cadette.
Commonly referred to as “The City of Song,” Cadenza is the largest city in the Imali nation of Opus, located in the far Northwest near the border of the Deep Woods. It is a popular tourist destination, internationally regarded for its lively entertainment industry.
As the last bastion of the former Bardic nation of the same name, it is said that Cadenza is constantly alive with music. A wide variety of fine musical instruments crafted by the artisans of the Candlelight district are used to innovate cutting-edge advancements in music and theater at the Glasdach Conservatory. For those seeking knowledge in more traditional fields, the Order of Amber sanctum hosts the largest library in the nation (open to the public by appointment only).
Not every young bard can afford the tuition at the conservatory, however. Those who cannot instead hone their skills busking in the taverns and dance halls that line the subterranean avenues of the Core Roads. It is said that performing for the raucously drunk can make or break the foundation of confidence for a young performer.
A word of advice: if asked for your preference of wine between the Cadence and Victor families, choosing a dry, firm Victor vintage over a silky and sweet Cadence may serve to draw less attention among the sorts you will meet skulking in the Core Roads.
For those seeking a more refined nightlife, the Bay of Pearls is a lively district stretching across the Western shores of Crown Lake managed by the auspicious Moon family. The nightlife here is second to none; if you have the coin, that is. Among the dozens of cabarets, nightclubs, pubs and dance halls lining the district, the De Lune Jazz Club, headlined by the infamous Leandre Sowka, stands a cut above the rest.
On the boardwalk, the Queen’s Respite Hotel provides travelers with a place to rest in luxury. The Queen’s Respite houses a full-service spa, three eateries, and a classical Daian open-air theater among other amenities. The Eternal Lily, located on the top floor of the Queen’s Respite, is regarded as one of the finest restaurants in the city, specializing in contemporary Imali cuisine, mixing flavors from every nation of Imahl for a truly unique experience with every meal.
If you prefer a more down-to-earth atmosphere, you may venture to the Western edge of the city to peruse the shops and taverns of the Candlelight District. This district is home to the pioneering artificers, alchemists, and mages of the City of Music. During the Gallion Conquest, this region was Melody: the capital city of the bardic nation of Cadenza. Surrounded by elaborately decorated stone walls constructed by the Bardocracy, most of which still stand today, it held as the final stronghold before a ceasefire was called at the battlefront at Letzlied. Though some may find this area unruly when compared to its Eastern neighbors, there is an undeniable charm to the rustic life lead here.
While we at the Cadenza Cadette do not support the public defacing of historical artifacts, if you do happen to visit the Geistwald ward you may find yourself marveling at the Guardian of Geistwald Gate. This towering stone statue, erected in honor of Tribune David Geistwald, is defaced yearly as part of the Night of Living Color celebration. While he accomplished much in his life, he is most often remembered by the common folk of Cadenza for the ban on Illusion and Enchantment magic within city limits, which was repealed following the death of a changeling woman under suspicious circumstances while in custody of the city tribunal. The rooms above The Resistance tavern offer a spectacular view of this spirited annual tradition.
Truly a place of beauty, there is something for everyone in the City of Song. Whether it be a barroom brawl in the Core Roads or a day of pampering at the Eternal Lily hotel, taking the time to visit will rejuvenate the mind and body and leave you longing to visit again.