The Ensorcelled City

     The Unifier built a splendid city in the midst of the realm to serve as his seat of power. Four marvelous palaces stood at the four cardinal extremities. In the north was the Water Palace, warmed in the winter by hot springs, the water of which ran through pipes beneath the tiled floors. The Palace of the Arcing Arrow was built upon a low series of hills on the southern edge of the city. It was open to the wind, to cool it in the summer months. At the very crest of the hill was the Pavilion of Fireflies. The Bronze Palace in the west and the Palace of Secret Thunder in the east were both famed in their own rights. But in the center of the city, surrounded by a wall and only accessible by magic gates from each of the four palaces, was a secret garden of white flowers and dark but glossy leaves. In the center was a pool in which the moon could always be seen, whether She were in the sky or no.

    Over the years the king's descendants added to the wealth and extravagance of the place, and they grew in pride and decadence. The last king's hedonism and cruelty knew no bounds, and he was spurred on to greater depravity by his concubine, a mysterious woman known as Daji. Their outrages grew so great that at last the nobles rebelled, spurred on by the lords of the western marches. Breaking the king's forces in a chariot charge, the rebels marched upon the throne city. But when they reached the valley they found that a wall of thick mist surrounded the capital. Anyone going in found himself after a few steps returning to the spot he had just left, with no memory of having turned around. All attempts to enter the city were stymied, and so the conquerors established a series of sentry posts around the perimeter and left.

    Thus the Ensorcelled City has stood inaccessible for hundreds of years, and no man may say what remains within it. But with the hazards and changes of war, the watch on the borders of the mist was disrupted. The lands in which it lay came under the control of the Shan's dogmen allies. They report that shadowy figures can be seen moving in the mist, and they occasionally find strange corpses of indiscernible shape left at the edge of the fog. It is possible that whatever power held the city is beginning to loosen its grip, but why and for what purpose remains to be seen. Certainly only the very brave or the very foolish would dare to find some way to venture into the cursed town.

The Potency

    The founder of the previous Dynasty was a sorcerer of unusual power and craftiness. It is said that he was a shepherd who was favored by the Moon Goddess. Madly in love with the stripling youth, she taught him magic lore which he learned eagerly. After slaying a great white serpent (or in other versions, being gifted a sword from a river serpent), he rose to fame and preeminence in his locality. At that time Liangyu was divided into many petty kingdoms, all with differing customs and tongues. Having gathered a following, he proceeded to swiftly conquer the nearby princedoms-- and then slowly but inexorably weld them into one realm.

    The kingdoms or lords who submitted to him willingly and quickly were allowed to keep the bulk of their domains as his vassals. Those who resisted, he wiped out and replaced with loyal retainers or relatives. Much of the captured bronze arms and armor were melted down to create twelve bronze statues placed along the borders of his realm. It is said that the king could see and hear through these statues much of what went on within his kingdom and along its marches.

    He began a thorough process of unification, standardizing laws, measurements, weights, and rituals throughout the kingdom. Nobles and bureaucrats were required to use the king's speech in their official duties and their visits to the court. The king is also credited with taking the first steps toward establishing a standardized writing system, although scholars are divided on this. What is more certain is that many magic-users, diviners, village elders and shamans were killed at this time. Partly this was to wipe out previous customs to make way for those of the king's new idealized culture, partly it was to prevent the rise of potential rivals to his power. In this way much of the early oral history and traditions of this area were lost.

    Toward the end of his reign, he caused a great tomb complex to be built, either hollowing out a mountain or construction an artificial one. The main chamber was filled with a scale model of his kingdom, complete with rivers and lakes of liquid mercury. Upon his death he was entombed within a magnificent sarcophagus at the center, crafted of silver and ivory. High in the ceiling above a great round mirror was set. It is said that the Moon Goddess views his tomb through this mirror. Other efforts, less unearthly, were taken to keep the place secure. Tripwires connected to loaded crossbows guarded narrow passages, and an army of undead warriors patrolled ceaselessly the main thoroughfares. With all set, the architects of the complex were also entombed within and the entrance sealed.

    Due to the fear in which he was held, the Liangyese avoided speaking his name after his death. (This remains a customary taboo for all Liangyese kings after passing.) Because of this, and a lack of written records from that time, the sorcerer's true name remains unknown. A wide variety of titles and euphemisms have been used to refer to him, but the two most common are "The Unifier" and "The Potency".

The Ghost Roads

    The Huo were not the first dynasty to rule Liangyu. Centuries before, a great sorcerer and united the petty kingdoms. He built a mighty city in the midst of the realm to serve as his capital.

    From this city he established great highways radiating in many directions. Broad and level they were, and those who passed along them found their journey shortened beyond what should be possible. For long stretches the highways were bordered by trees which provided shade and shelter. Their leaves remained even in winter. Where the roads passed through mountains, tunnels were carved, lit by starspeck lanterns set within the rock. Mighty bridges carried the highways across rivers and valleys. Inns were established along these roads, and arsenals for the army's use.

    The sorcerer's descendants ruled for a time but gradually fell into decadence. In the reign of their last King, the upkeep of the Roads was neglected, and the rituals which prevented monsters and supernatural entities from haunting it were forgotten. By the time the Huo restored the kingdom, the Great Roads were already ill-omened. The trees which lined them were overgrown, keeping the road in a perpetual shadow. Strange creatures stalked the avenue. The inns and arsenals were abandoned. The Huo attempted to retake the roads, but it soon became apparent that whatever magic had been used in their construction made them a magnet for fell things. An area swept clean of monsters one day would soon be infested by creatures even more hostile the next. Fortunately the dangers never seemed to stray too far from the highways. In the end the Kings of the Huo contented themselves with dismantling large sections of the roads, but many still remain in remote places.

Lao Wan

    Within the northwest confines of the forest, the land rises to an outcrop of rock. Along the crown of the hill is a circular wall of megalithic stones nigh unthinkable in their size. Within the circle are the remains of an ancient city. Three great highways, paved with hexagonal slabs, spiral in toward the center, with curving side streets branching out from each. The doors are low, about waist high, but wide enough for a man to lay stretched out between the posts. Generally a massive stone is used for the lintel but some utilize a shallow arch with curious indentation, presumably decorative.  The layout of some buildings seem to be based on a triradiate symmetry, ranging from simple triangles to Koch snowflakes in the fifth iteration. These generally have small triangular windows, often alternating in direction. What roofs remain are held up by corbel vaulting. A significant minority of other buildings have curved walls and sprawl seemingly at random. Each chamber has its own dome and is lit by an oculus, with a circular receptacle on the floor beneath, presumably to catch water. Some buildings are constructed of stone blocks, others seem to be a type of concrete. A few seem to have been carved from the rock of the hill itself, and these often lead down into broad chambers below. Aside from these, no buildings appear to have had multiple levels. No staircases exist, and both the lower caverns and the battle platforms around the walls were accessed by ramps. Short cylindrical stools seem to have been the chief piece of furniture, at least of what has survived.

    While here and there, detritus blown in by the wind has managed to pile in drifts and give some headway to flora, the city has shown remarkable resilience in the face of both weathering and nature's reclamation attempts. Certainly none of the other ruins within Lin show this degree of preservation. It is perhaps a testament to the scale of the construction as well as to its quality. Or perhaps some other force is at work here.

    Who or what built this place is a matter for conjecture. What few surviving examples of art remain seem to be of the abstract variety, geometrical oddities which somehow cause dizziness and nausea if stared at for too long. As for artifacts, the city has been picked clean by scavengers, but perhaps there is some secret door or obstructed passage which the looters managed to overlook. Two types of artifacts which come from here are of particular note, perhaps. One is a gun of some bright green metal, surprisingly untarnished. It projects a ray which immobilizes a target while it is on them. If held for more than five minutes the subject dies. The other is a disc, somewhat thicker in the center. Balance it on your bare forearm and it will warm and glow, emitting indecipherable sounds with a vaguely musical quality. Prolonged use will leave the holder fatigued.

Apemen of the Central Highlands

    When the gods set aside the Imavant, not all of the apes chose to enter the appointed sanctuary. Preferring to take their chances in the wide world, various groups split off and established enclaves in diverse places. One group, known as the Yeren, migrated to the forest of Lin, which at that time was considerably warmer than it is today.

    They destroyed the remnants of the serpent-men and established cities in the forest. A few of their ruins remain today, mostly scattered watchtowers or underground arsenals. They are recognizable by their distinct architecture, made of seemingly unhewn stones fitted together seamlessly. The windows and doors are half-moon arches without upright lines. Curving buttresses support the larger buildings, almost all of which are capped with domes. The largest extent of ruins is Yuán Chéng, a city notable for its sculptures and monumental structures.

    For unknown reasons, the Yeren civilization began to decline. Records scavenged from Yuán Chéng tell of political unrest and societal decay. What once was a unified commonwealth soon dissolved into petty gangs squabbling over the ruins of their once great realm. Over time the forest began to reclaim its own, and the once-proud simians retreated into the highlands to dwell in caves and drystone huts. Not as flawless as their ancestral structures, the gaps between the stones here are packed with earth to keep out the mountain weather. The various settlements cling to the mountainsides, harboring dwindling populations. Most of the villages seem as hostile to each other as they are to the outside world.

    The few human tribes that live in the forest have little contact with the Yeren, and purposely so. The simians have been known to raid settlements and haul away food and captives. Yeng policy tends to avoid the apes as much as possible. The mountains are comparatively sparse in useful timber and a conflict with the psychic nonhumans is not worth it. However, some lumber camps close to the foothills have reported losing supplies to the simians, particularly iron tools. It is probable that skirmishes will occur the closer the Yeng press in toward the forest's heart.

Winter in the Bear's Realm

There are few bears left in the forest of Lin. But the She-Bear has been there longer than any man remembers. Her territory is on the western outskirts of the central mountain range.

She is enormous, leaving her claw marks on the highest trunks. Each of her droppings could fill an oxcart. Her urine gathers in fetid pools before subsiding into the earth. Her roar is deafening and her wrath cataclysmic. Great tufts of her red-brown fur can be found throughout her territory, caught in the branches or lying in clumps along the trailside. Her footprints become ponds or flower meads.

In the winter, she withdraws into a great cave to slumber. As she slumbers, She dreams. A curtain of mist draws around Her territory. The lands within become strange and surreal.

The nature of Her dreams will alter them.

If she is at peace, she will simply dream of her mountain slopes in winter, deep snows blanketing the familiar trails under the half-light of a slate-gray sky. But her memories may wander into summer, and you'll round a bend to find yourself blinking up at green leaves and bright skies. Cubs play in the sunlit groves and must be avoided at all costs.

If the Bear dreams of her infancy, the snow vanishes. The air remains chilled, but the mountain's slopes are warm, almost hot, and covered with soft fur. The sky becomes a distant cave roof, and the trees are enormous stalactites. They are cold, slightly damp, and rough to the touch. The light is dim but never fully dark, as though snowy light is filtering through some unseen opening. Around the den, steaming milk will gather in stone-lined pools. This is the Dream Milk, which so many expeditions attempt to bring back to the real world.

If the Bear hungers, enormous and succulent fruits grow on leafless trees and lie in piles amid the snow. Mushrooms spring up in scattered patches, and rich tubers poke up through the turf. Rivers of sweet things, syrups and sorghums and molasses, flow in impossible uphill courses. Cartoonishly fat cattle with swollen limbs and bellies amble about. Fish plop out of streams and wriggle on the banks. The cliffs are dotted with the hives of enormous bees, dripping with honey.

If the Bear lusts, the climate shifts to resemble late spring. There are flowers everywhere. Great he-bears stalk around the mouth of the den, awaiting her call. Sometimes they spar with each other in titanic combat. Her cadre of old lovers include bears long extinct, legends long forgotten. They are fit and strong and very much opposed to your presence. Mercifully these memories are from her youth, so the brutes conjured up are of a large but not impossible size for bears. Their deaths (or yours) will not bother Her at all, but the den itself must not be entered.

If she is restless or uneasy, the sky will darken and a bracing wind sends curling serpents of fog to wind through the trees. Shadows move on the edge of sight and strange noises sporadically puncture the deep silence. Although no outright attacks occur, you are constantly on edge. Sleep is difficult and the strain on your nerves intense.

There are few things the Bear truly fears anymore. But, reaching back in her memories, her nightmares will conjure the Hunters, faceless humanoids (and stranger shapes still) in furry rags. They wield flint spears and shoot flaming arrows. Cruel traps will be hidden along the trails. Enormous packs of slavering wolves will haunt the slopes. Forest fires will rage, rivers will flood. The wail of cubs, lost or in pain, will echo incessantly over everything.

So why go there?

The dreamscapes themselves and the things dreamed in them disappear when the Bear shifts moods or wakes. But dreamed things taken by outsiders will persist through the shifts and will gain permanence if brought out of the Bear's territory and into reality. (This must be done by outside intervention. Creatures or objects within the dreamscape cannot and will not leave of their own accord.)

Despite the great danger, expeditions are made every winter. Both furs and food are vital in the winter months and can be had here in abundance. Dream milk will never spoil, and it promotes health, fertility, and wisdom. Drinking it also prevents nightmares, something particularly helpful during the full moon. Prolonged usage causes hair and nails to grow at double the rate. The honey also has an energizing effect and may boost speech, charisma, and intellect.

The risks entailed in gathering these things is high. Even beyond the dangers of the terrain and the strange logic of the dreamworld, the resources also attract scavenging parties from the great apes who dwell in the central highlands. These often prove formidable. Their mental powers allow them to predict the Bear's next mood and, roughly, the amount of time until the next shift. Their camp also functions as a mobile pocket of base reality within the dreamworld.

While for years she has had to make due with mouthfuls, the rise of the Swine God and his brood has finally given her prey of a size commensurate to her appetite. She has been slowly extending her territory toward their rutting grounds, inevitably bringing her close to the foresters' encampments.

[Inspired by noisms' Behind Gently Smiling Jaws setting.]

Dark Rain

    When I say that the forest wages war on its despoilers, I do not mean that in a merely figurative sense. Of course there are the vines and saplings that spring up at a seemingly supernatural rate in any plot of cleared ground, the seeds of millennia finally seizing their chance at a place in the sun. These are difficult enough to deal with. What I am referring to is the Dark Rain.

    I am at a loss to classify it as tree, animal, or machine. It walks on eight monstrous legs, arched like those of a spider but cased in bark-like skin. Where the legs meet, a massive trunk towers up into leafy branches. Here and there among the branches is a leafless bough, shorter and oddly straight until it splits into two backward curving arms, connected at the ends by a vine-like rope. It is, in fact, an organic crossbow. (Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the crossbows the Liangyese use are manmade imitations of this.) It can load and fire quarrels grown and stored within a hollow tube inside the leafless bough.

    The number of weapon-boughs varies with the age (and hence the size) of the thing. The boughs have a limited range of movement so aiming often requires the tree to turn or bend. When one bough is out of bolts, it twists around to aim the next bough at its target. From this fact comes another of its names, the Twister. A common song of the Foresters contains the line "And then the twister comes. Here comes the twister." 

    How the creatures sense their targets is unknown. Generally a dark rain will patrol along a seemingly random path, attacking only those who pose a serious threat to the forest. The Yeng are such a threat, but lately the boars of the Swine God have also been targeted. In the past, each twister hunted alone, but lately there are rumors of several working together to coordinate attacks on Yeng outposts-- and darker whispers of organic trebuchets that move and fire of their own accord. If true, these tales indicate that the war is about to reach a new and deadlier stage.