The journal of Dethias: Suckling the tit of corruption

The owl shrieked at my birth – an evil sign. The night crow cried aboding luckless time; dogs howled, and hideous tempest shook down trees; the raven rook'd her on the chimney’s top, and chattering pies in dismal discord sung. My mother felt more than a mother's pain, and, yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, to wit, an indigested and deformed lump, not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. The midwife wonder'd and the women cried 'O Prokeles bless us he is born with teeth!' And so I was; which plainly signified that I came to bite the world. That many a thousand, which mistrust no parcel of their fear, and many an old man's sigh and many a widow's, and many an orphan's water-standing eye – men for their sons, wives for their husbands, and orphans for their parents timeless death shall rue the hour that ever Dethias wast born. That I should snarl and bite and play the dog. Yet this word 'love,' which graybeards call divine, be resident in men, not like one another, but most in me; I am myself alone.

I had a tender, yet sheltered upbringing. Suckling of the desperate focused love only a mother, holding nothing else sacred in this world, could give. Learning to love and play like anyone, yet never allowed to play outside in the light. I would sneak to the river district at night to swim, with only the clouds and wind to partake in my games, it is by my revered banks littered with the discarded belongings of Corlace that I found the simple beauty in all things.

After the long drought of the Wheels, rats infested the lower portion of the city. I never liked their encroachment on what I considered 'my' river. So, when peddlers began selling rat meat for lack of bread; meat that the street kids collected during the day, I jumped or rather sneaked at the opportunity. I found I was a natural exterminator. I became the premier ratter; hiding in shadows, hunting with desperate focus during the hours that no other dared, learning the pain of the knife edge as well as its precision. I had to sell the carcasses to the city's underbelly at half the price other ratters got. I hated those people. They were greedy, conniving, blunt, and the worst kinds of cruel.

One particularly nasty elf, Locutious, showed me how to use poison to catch more rats, quicker. It was too late before I realized his deception... the poisons I made to kill the rats seeped into the meat, and poisoned the wretched people. Many got sick from my mistake... some died. I tried to steal back everything I had sold, but was beaten down by one particularly brutal peddler, Haamock, and his thugs. That day I promised myself I would never hurt innocent people, but rather try and protect them.

The drought ended when prince Thay was born, and the city rejoiced. Yet I was forced to look for new employ. I tried disguising myself as one of the merchants so that I could sell wares I'd collected from the river banks, but none dared approach me for trinkets. The few clients I did receive, requested other goods - I didn't display. They asked for darker things; forbidden poisons, shadowed information, or to pilfer some object of desire. The pay was ample, but I tried only to accept contracts that would hurt those crooked, duplicitous, evil dregs -- of which there were plenty. Try as I may, I could not resist the satisfaction from hearing news of my deeds reverberate back, that a misfortune had befallen some unscrupulous fuck, and I knew my streets were safer.

I had saved up a small fortune, until... a few years back my mother fell ill. I leveraged, scrounged and begged to provide her the best treatment, but nothing could dissuade the reaper. She died the same day as the King. I spread her ashes into the river. I sold all her furnishings. And with what meager sum I could piece together, I purchased these daggers I will use -- to carve out my place in this world.

Malcear Balfier: Servant of the White Flame

At the time before life, when the earth and sky become two from one, before blood and thought filled the land, a spark was born. A fire named Noreal. The flame to ignite all life. A white fire that rolled high across the planes bringing it with it the first seeds of man. A fire to seek out truth in the darkness, and a fire to fuel the burning of our souls. Some are born with the fire, others must seek it out, but in the end all will return to flame.

High Father Amethen read from the ancient scrolls by the white light of the ever-burning candle. The chamber was cold and dark. The white candles mounted in the corners of the wide stone room cast little light, and made the shadows dance with every movement. If not for them the room would be too cold to bare, but they gave off a surprising amount of heat. Sweat trickled down Timyn's body.

He knew the writings by heart now, but somehow hearing them read always seemed new and refreshing to him. He moved carefully through the ritual motions, using the curved wooden blade as part of himself. Its weight was key to his balance. Shifting from left to right moving the sword in slow spirals around his body he let the words wash over him, and refresh his physical weariness. His muscles ached and his body was thin. His ribs stood out like the pillars of the city wall. And yet this life was far better than the one he had left behind.

Timyn was born with the flame. Timyn was a regular bonfire. One has to live on the streets a long time to gather enough filth and scars to hide a fire so bright. Timyn's gifts weren't discovered until he was 12 years old.

The Skylight Temple in the furthest north district of Corlace was a home for those blessed with the light of Noreal. One of the high priests saw the fire in Timyn's eyes while pushing him out of the way as he begged for pennies in the slums. They brought him in, washed him up, and saw him for what he was. A blessed son. Snow pale skin, hair the color of heated bronze, and eyes that sparkled the deep blue the sky's ether. There was some debate about whether he smelled of cinnamon cake or fresh apples. They gave him a clean room, and two meals a day. They taught him from the holy scrolls for four hours a day. They trained him in the way of the sword and bow, and watched as his flame grew stronger, and his light filled all those around him.

His fellow students didn't care for him though. Rich noble sons who had their room and training paid for by the wealth of their fathers. Families who wished to redeem themselves by offering their children to the life of the White Fire. No one knew why the church gave the sickly Timyn the same lessons and lodgings for free. It was even further beyond them that he surpassed them in their studies, and passed every test he was given.

In the Chamber of Lights he defeated them all at swordplay. In the courtyard he proved their superior with bow and arrow, thrown dagger, curved axe and crossbow. He didn't excel at his histories, or any of his studies of the sciences, but he worked hard and still finished each lesson. His piers made him feel outcast, and that was fine with Timyn. He remembered what it was like sleeping in cold alleys and feeding on dead pigeons while they slept in their soft feather beds and grew strong on bread and cream. He was never looking back again.

On the first day of his 20^th winter the high priests brought him to the highest tower and killed him. They forever destroyed the life of Timyn of Corlace. They cut the flame into his chest with curved blades, healed him with the holy white fire, and gave him his true name. He was reborn, Malcear Balfier. Now was his time to go out into the city, and spread the good of Noreal. Heal the sick, defend the weak, and prove the value of religion and morals in this dark time of political conflict.

They gave him a steel blade, an oak bow, and the midnight robes of a priest adorned with the silver flames of their Goddess. They warned him of dangerous magic gathering far beyond The Wheels. They told him that even the bright light of Noreal can create a long terrible shadow. Then they closed the doors on him, with no intent on ever opening them again. He was on his own now. For the first time since he was a child he was back on the street of Corlace with only his meager belongings and his tenacity to survive.

Malcear slung his bow over his shoulder, tucked his last few coins into his boot, pulled his hood over his bright copper hair, and set out into the streets, quickly blending with the crowd, save for the warm light he cast only few could see.

The deities

Name: Noreal
Alignment: Neutral Good
Direction: North
Symbol: The white aurora borealis against a night sky
Weapon: Scimitar
Domains: Fire, Glory, Good, Healing, Protection

Noreal is the cold flame of the north. Her pristine beauty is worshiped by elves on their icy shores and all who help those in need.  She is a fire to ward against the cold and a beacon to guide the traveler home.

Name: Prokeles
Alignment: Lawful Good
Direction: Northeast
Symbol: A stone wall with a barred gate set in it.
Weapon: Longsword
Domains: Community, Good, Law, Nobility, Protection

Prokeles is a stern father who protects his many children from the horrors of the wilderness.  He is the wall builder, the crafter of kingdoms, the patron of patrons.

Name: Aurex
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Direction: East
Symbol: The rising sun
Weapon: Unarmed strike
Domains: Earth, Law, Rune, Strength, Sun

Aurex is discipline.  Aurex is as certain as the rising of the sun.  Aurex's face is set and carved in stone, weathering all. Aurex advises those who would set a rule in stone and call it Law.

Name: Infersol
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Direction: Southeast
Symbol: A stylized jar with a black marble inside it and a white marble suspended above it
Weapon: Mace
Domains: Destruction, Evil, Law, Strength, War

Infersol is the scourge of the nobility, a warlord raised from poverty who hates the hypocrisy of the old ways.  He came from the mob and seeks to harness its power, direct its anger.  He is the embodiment of revolution and wants to destroy the powerful while the powerless in his eyes have two choices: join or die.

Name: Meriph
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Direction: South
Symbol: A hooded cloak or a dagger crossed with its sheath
Weapon: Scythe
Domains: Darkness, Death, Evil, Knowledge, Trickery

Meriph is death waiting in the darkness. He is admired (and sometimes worshiped) by thieves and assassins.  Meriph's face is never seen.  He lures the unfortunate to the shadows and harvests their terror.

Name: Noxtergo
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Direction: Southwest
Symbol: An upside down boat or a broken mast
Weapon: Greataxe
Domains: Chaos, Evil, Madness, Water, Weather

The gargled scream that is the last breath of the drowning is music to Noxtergo. He finds physical form in the beasts of the turbulent sea.  He twists the thoughts of the mad and his floods can wash away any feeble scrap of order.

Name: Occhidy
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Direction: West
Symbol: The wind or clouds, storm clouds with lightning, a tornado
Weapon: Whip
Domains: Air, Chaos, Charm, Liberation, Luck

Occhidy is depicted as a tall, strangely slender woman dressed in delicate wispy garments usually in a full sprint with her hair streaming out behind her.  Her attentions are fickle and she never stays in one place, or with one person, for long.  She said to be betrothed to Epicusp but by her nature is forever fleeing commitment and stability.

Name: Epicusp
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Direction: Northwest
Symbol: A peaceful road through a forest, an evergreen branch
Weapon: Rapier
Domains: Animal, Chaos, Good, Plant, Travel

Epicusp is a cheerful halfling wanderer.  He is forever traveling the roads, happily searching for his runaway bride-to-be.  He knows he'll never catch her but is happy to catch glimpses of her here and there.  Afterall, he gets to be in the great outdoors and hear her running through the trees, and see her ruffling the fur of all the beasts of the wild.

Name: Promni
Alignment: True Neutral
Direction: Up
Symbol: An eyepatch, a half-worn blindfold, or one eye open and one eye closed/missing
Weapon: Quarterstaff
Domains: Artifice, Knowledge, Magic, Repose, Trickery

Promni is an elderly one-eyed man.  He wears a long cloth wrapped around his head covering his missing eye and leans heavily on his staff.  He knows too much and is too old to be persuaded by any of the fleeting extremes of his fellow gods.  He longs only to be reunited with his missing eye before he dies.

The story begins

Your search for work has found you sitting in a small and crowded waiting room on the top floor of the Silver Spokes Trading Company, a small firm that is just one of dozens of shipping companies in this thriving city.  An open window provides a meager breeze and from it you can hear the sounds of the city and see over the docks out to sea.

You are newly arrived in town, but this not unusual.  "All roads lead to Hub" as the saying goes, and it's true no matter how you look at it.  From the southwest to the northeast the four grand roads extend straight out for thousands of miles all the way to the Wheels.  If you leave home then Hub is where you end up no matter how hard you try.

To the south and east is the ocean.  You've been told that it's enclosed on all sides by land but find that hard to imagine.  It appears to go forever.  It takes months to cross.  Perhaps you'll make the journey yourself some day.

Who you are and where you've come from are up to you.  Here is a brief outline of the core races and where they fit in history and geography:

Corlace, known as Hub to most, is a city built by Humans.  Its kingdom is mighty and has survived many dynasties - and it's about to enter a new one.

The King of Corlace is dead and his son Thay, a young man but already a wizard of note, has little interest in the throne.  He seems to think that the task of running the kingdom should be handled by a council of people chosen by the general public.  With such power up for grabs every group in society is tense, and gathering its strength.

Halflings have a homeland on a string of islands far across the ocean, but history has found them living alongside humans in shore communities everywhere.

Everyone knows that dwarves are from the Wheels but no one knows where their cities are, exactly.  The dwarves have built (and successfully defended for millenia) a small fortress near the terminus of each of the four great roads.  It is through these strongholds that they enter enter and exit general society.

Elves live beyond the Wheels, to the north, where another ocean lies.  Not much is known about that land except that this other ocean is bitterly cold, and nothing but thick forest exists between the moutains and the shore.

Gnomes come from the lands to the east, beyond the Wheels which lie lower in that direction.  The land beyond is dangerous, dry, and horrid.  The gnomes are the last vestige of civilization.

Half-orcs make up a sizable portion of the population of Gurrem, a kingdom to the east of Corlace.  Gurrem has long fought orc armies and all manner of invaders from the dusty lands beyond the Wheels.  The Wheels, which are not mountains to the east but have been worn down by the winds into sharp cliffs, ravines and rolling rocky hills offer no natural protection to Gurrem from the outer lands.

Some half-orcs join the wilder armies.  Some find their home among the steadfast and militant people of Gurrem.  Gurrem resents Corlace for its safety and has sometimes attacked it in the past just to prove a point but distance (and the Great Walled Road of Prokeles) makes prolonged war unfeasible.  There is no trade allowed between the two kingdoms.

Gurrem defends itself through discipline, and its people have been forged by their struggle and harsh environment.  It is famed for its monasteries, dedicated to the god Aurex, high against the jagged cliffs where their royal guard and much of its army train to be monks.