The Duke, the City, and the Priest

 The Duke

    As a young man, Qinshi knelt by the bedside of his dying father, the old Duke. The Black Wolf's hair had long since turned white, but his grip had lost none of its strength as he grasped his son's hand. He refused to die until Qinshi swore to see the war through to the end. And so, fired with the fervor of youth, the young man swore before Heaven and Earth to install the true heir on the throne of Liangyu.

    That was long ago. Since taking up the obsidian scepter, he has lost brothers and friends to the war. Most recently he buried a son, and he still wears white mourning garments. He is beginning to feel his age, and the hairs of his beard have begun to grey.

    His vow constrains him. Such a thing is not lightly cast off. But in his heart has has begun to loathe it, resentment gnawing at him like a cancer. He feels trapped in a war he cannot win, for a cause that will do him little good. Yet breaking the vow and abandoning the war would hold perils of its own. His oath was made before gods and men, and to walk away from it would be a great breach of loyalty, a betrayal of his people. Furthermore, if his three cousins do not conquer the East, he fears they may turn on the West and take his domain for themselves. And so he bides his time in frustration, weary of counsels and campaigns.

    All this he keeps in his heart. To the world Duke Qinshi is a stone-faced politician, maintaining the customs and policies of his ancestors. His duties extend not only to the oversight of the realm and the prosecution of the war but also to the clan at large. As senior member of the clan he is responsible for keeping the various branches of the family in line. Marriages of clan members must be approved by him first, although this is usually a formality in all but the most important cases. He also presides at funerals and the spring ritual honoring the family's ancestors at Hei Chao. And every year he travels to keep the Autumn Feast in Zhigen.

The City

    Zhigen is built on a low hill, bounded by a long bend of the river on its west, south, and east sides. It began as a collection of huts along the riverbank, and became a trading hub for the scattered settlers of this rugged land. Over time it grew in wealth and prestige, an outpost in the wilderness, overseen by an honorable family, the ancestors of the Huo and the Shan. On the crest of the hill they built a stronghold, the House of Weathered Boughs. The north side of the hill became dotted with their tombs, and the ancestral hall was filled with their memorial tablets.

    When a man dies, his spirit goes to be with his fathers, and his children inscribe his name on a memorial tablet. The tablet is placed in the ancestral hall alongside those of his father and grandfather, as far back as the founding of that particular branch of the clan. Though his remains crumble to dust, it is believed that part of his spirit remains within his memorial tablet, providing a link to the next world. Ancestors are believed to represent the interests of their descendants to the Lord of Heaven in the High Courts of the afterlife.

    The rulers of Zhigen became the clan we now call the Huo. When the Huo left Zhigen to rule in the east, they packed up the ancient memorial tablets into ox carts. But when it came to the oldest tablets, the ones of the ancestors both Shan and Huo claimed descent from, the cart broke down and the oxen refused to move. An oracle was consulted and it appeared that these ancestors were reluctant to leave the city they had spent so much time and toil to build. So it was agreed that these memorial tablets would remain at Zhigen in the Hall of the First Fathers. A member of the Shan would be appointed to watch over them, and every autumn the Huo King and the Duke of Shan would come to pay their respects. (In these days, of course, the King and his court do not attend, and the Huo clan are represented solely by the Three Princes, their households, and a handful of relatives who have come over to their side.)

    Over the generations, the prosperity of the Huo Dynasty was attributed in large part to the intercession of the First Fathers. They came to be viewed as powerful and benevolent patrons. Petitions to their shrine came from all over the province, and for a time from the the entire kingdom. Anyone of that bloodline could expect a hearing, but so could loyal retainers of the King-- ostensibly any of the King's good vassals. Pilgrims flocked to the city, which grew to accommodate them. Many donations were made in hopes of (or in gratitude for) favorable outcomes. The temple became wealthy, and the role of Custodian was highly sought after.

    Often given to a cousin of the Duke of Shan, the lucrative position attracted cynical and self-serving men. Corruption bred there. But every so often a man of piety would, against all odds, receive the post and weed out the worst offences. Such a man is the current Custodian, Yanshi.

The Priest

    Yanshi seems to be that rarest of all things, a good man. He is driven by his duty to both gods and men, and his fervor for both is self-evident. He has abolished the entrance fee to the Temple, and spends long days listening to and counseling petitioners. Both lowborn and high find an open ear and much counsel. He is learned in the ancient songs and tales, but seems to also be a keen observer of men. He is well spoken of in all places.

    Yanshi has very nearly succeeded in rooting out corruption from the city's priesthood. He insists that the temple should be allowed to choose its own Custodian rather than remain at the mercy of court politics. In this way, he hopes, Zhigen may maintain its noble purpose with due reverence for the gods and compassion for mankind. The Duke is skeptical that such a move would truly do much to stave off the corruptions that keep cropping up in the city. And he is keenly aware that such autonomy could eventually prove a threat to the realm. On this matter there is no harmony between the two men.

    There is a further matter which divides them. As the Custodian of Zhigen, Yanshi is more sensitive than most to the ancient ties between the Huo and the Shan. To him they are close kinsmen, and he sees the war as nothing but evil, infighting between two branches of the same tree. He is obedient to the Duke as head of the family, but he considers it his outspoken duty to argue constantly for peace. He can quote the exact verses from the Book of Odes which support his ideas, and does so often-- sometimes without preamble. It is said that he enters the Hall daily and remonstrates with the ancestors about the state of the war, now scolding, now pleading. Yet he maintains his loyalty to the clan and gives aid and support to the army whenever they come through.

    While privately the Duke feels that Yanshi may be right about the war, he also bitterly resents him for pressuring him when he already feels so conflicted. Yanshi, meanwhile, views the Duke's vow as a weight dragging the realm deeper and deeper into chaos. These two major issues have exacerbated a host of petty disputes between the two, causing even small sparks to blaze into searing flames. The Autumn Feast has become an awkward and uncomfortable affair for nearly everyone involved. At the most recent one harsh words were exchanged, and the two men nearly came to blows in the Hall itself. The growing rift between these two influential men can only spell trouble for the realm. Any public action by one against the other would be a terrible scandal due to their positions and reputations in the clan. Certainly it is hard to imagine a loyal son of the Shan willingly seeking to harm either of them. But the war has brought many strangers into the realm as mercenaries or auxiliaries. Who can say where a careless word may lead?

The Camp of Envy

  The camp moves about, springing up seemingly overnight near its current target of ire. Moving through the camp you'll meet businessmen muttering about long-dead rivals and neighboring kings sketching up battle plans against each other. Outcasts, has-beens, and jilted lovers all crowd around fires that give heat but no warmth. Everyone seems to subsist solely on black coffee, whiskey, and tobacco. Smoke hovers above the area, curling in twisted patterns like a brood of ghostly vipers.

Camp materials seem to be scavenged or scrounged from other sources. Visigoths use classical columns as benches. A pirate captain has made a pavilion from captured sails-- all dragged here painstakingly across miles of desert.

Around the camp, shady vendors promise quick fixes. Every other person seems to have a book or a tract they want you to read, right now, while they give commentary. Wild-eyed speakers whip up the placard-wielding crowd for fresh crusades. Guitars and occasionally odder instruments crop up here and there.

The trampled dirt here is not a soil from which deep friendships spring. Tenuous alliances shift in the everchanging wind, and any elevation in the fortunes of one is likely to draw the resentment of others. But while the status quo lasts, there is a certain grim camaraderie among Envy's followers.

For some, the camp is a permanent residence. For others it is a stepping stone to a career in the army of Wrath or the temple of Greed.

The Three Princes

        After he was wrongfully disinherited, Prince Chou fled to the West and formed a rebellion. He died in battle, but left behind three sons to carry on his claim.

         Lord Jiao is Prince Chou's eldest son and the current heir to his stolen throne. A skilled fighter with sword and spear, Jiao is unequalled in battle. He has long dominated the chariot duels which traditionally precede most battles, to the point where few now face him in such encounters. These days he prefers to lead cavalry charges, and he owns one of the finest horses in the kingdom. Although his advisors urge him to remain safe behind the front lines, he takes nearly every opportunity he can to plunge into the thick of the melee. Thus far he has emerged largely unharmed, but he bears many scars.

        Off the field he is jovial and outgoing, always eager to share a laugh or a drink. His disarming charm has won him the loyalty of his men, and turned more than a few hearts among the women of the realm. Frankly he is something of a womanizer, and he never seems to stay with one for long. Not all of his conquests were single when he met them, and there are several husbands in the realm who hold a particular grudge against him. But thus far the populace at large seem to like him. Perhaps it is easier to forgive his flaws if it wasn't your wife or daughter he slept with.

        To Jiao's numerous children, at least the ones he knows of, he is an indulgent if often absent father. None are full grown yet, but nearly all the boys are eager to follow in his footsteps as warriors. He treats his wives well enough, although he does not seem to have any particularly deep relationship with any of them. Some say that he is more interested in the hunt than the quarry, and that seems to be true. A few of his conquests are scouts in the Flying Corps, and his second wife is the head of it.

        His personality makes him a decent enough diplomat, and it is largely due to his connections with the territory of Xin that the vital alliance between them and Shan is maintained. His horse was a personal gift from the Xin ruler.

        In counsels of war Jiao contributes little save for the odd joke here and there. He seems to prefer action to deliberation, although he has displayed quick thinking on the field itself. He never speaks of his plans for running the country after the war, and if pressed on the issue he directs people to his younger brother, Tongyi.

        Tall and narrow-faced, Tongyi generally wears the robes of a scholar, even on campaign. His official title is Chief Strategist, and most of the Shan victories in recent years were the fruit of his foresight and planning. He tends to stay off the battlefield itself, directing events from a distance in a chariot he designed and built personally. He has a complex but efficient system of signals and messengers to relay orders.

        Not all of his contributions to the kingdom are military. He planned and oversaw the creation of several irrigation canals which have greatly improved crop production in the valley. His suggestions have also led to some major restructuring in both the government and the military. In his spare time, Tongyi is almost always reading or writing, save when he practices the forms of his martial art. He has developed a unique style of unarmed combat, and it is said that his fists strike like hammer-blows, breaking blades and shattering armor. It is also whispered that he has knowledge of arcane arts and can bend the wind to his will, although this may be nothing more than the idle talk of the superstitious.

        Most of what people tell of him is hearsay or conjecture, for little is genuinely known. By all accounts he is private and reserved-- some would say cold and aloof. He speaks little, save when debating policy or strategy. No one seems to know if he has any actual friends. He has never taken a wife, and is seemingly indifferent to romantic pursuits. This naturally sets off its own set of rumors. Some say there was a great beauty in his past who left him jaded. Others say that the school of study to which he adheres requires celibacy. Still others quip that he is simply inhuman and soulless.  While nearly all respect him, few seem to like him, and many admit that they find his presence unnerving.

        If Tongyi is unnerving, the youngest of the three brothers is outright abrasive. Gutuo is known for his irritable and testy nature. Those who spend time with him find that he often picks quarrels or engages in arguments seemingly for no reason.

Perhaps his soul is twisted by his body's condition. Since childhood he has had to suffer from chronic pain, usually dull but sometimes increasing to agonizing intensity. The cause of this ailment is unknown, and he has spent the majority of his life studying medicine to find a cause and a cure. The diagnosis has thus far eluded him, but he has become an expert in treating the illnesses of others. Keen and observant, his knowledge of how the body functions is far in advance of most doctors in Liangyu. His expertise in pressure points aided Tongyi in developing his martial art style. He is skilled in treating humans, animals, and even canids.

Such knowledge of the body is deadly when turned to harm. Gutuo knows all the kill shots of most creatures, and is an excellent tracker. A crack shot with bow and crossbow, he is intrigued by firearms, although the ones that have made their way to Liangyu are far too inaccurate for sharpshooting. His duties as a healer tend to keep him away from the battlefield itself, but he stays in practice. Archery is something like meditation to him, helping to take his mind off his troubles.

While his attitude is grating to nearly everyone, it is widely acknowledged that he works tirelessly on behalf of his patients. Many lives have been saved through his efforts. Indeed, he often does much to help people without letting them know. It is said that he doesn't care much for praise, viewing it as mere flattery.

He keeps no concubines and has only one wife, a commoner, to whom he is devoted. It is rumored that she is the only person to outlast him in an argument, and that he was smitten instantly. To hear their barbs and jabs tossed back and forth is like watching two skilled swordfighters at play. Most find it exhausting to listen to them, but there is a certain elegance in their verbal battle that is lacking in his other interactions. It is almost as though they have elevated the spat to an art form.

If there are any people in the world he does not try to antagonize, it is his small children. They have found him a strict but patient father. To all others, his personality is a hindrance that only a small handful have overcome. These few friends and retainers seem to have earned his confidence at any rate. Many more are grateful for his aid, but glad to keep him at a distance.

The Sands of Mars: Snapshots

 Steles such as these can be found across the Sands. It is thought that they were placed to aid navigators. The significance of the markings is unknown. They predate Karathambra by several millennia.

Arlazir

The shade of a black cypress can provide a brief respite for the Ringmaster on his journey.

The Great Divide.

Succulents of various kinds may be found in certain stretches of the Sands.

Shaodan lizards migrating in search of kelbar deposits. Between Mars' lighter gravity and some quirk of their own anatomy, shaodan are able to move across all but the very finest of sand without disturbing a single grain.

A blood arc over Nivala. Blood arcs are atmospheric phenomena, the origins of which are not yet understood. Some attribute them to light reflecting off of ice crystals high in the atmosphere. Others aver a metaphysical origin.

Birds scatter from an approaching devourer. Although they often prefer the richer hunting grounds of the plains or the sea, border canyons such as this one offer plenty of opportunity for the bulky creature to ambush its prey.

Hei Chao, Mountain Fortress

  Shanguo is a province defined by its rugged peaks, forested slopes, and fertile valleys. Two mountain ranges define its borders, branching off of the Imavant and gradually growing further apart, with a valley land between them that broadens as one goes east. It is down this corridor that invaders from the Imavant are most likely to pass. The Huo Dynasty began here as a humble family of pioneers. When they left to become the ruling house of Liangyu, a cadet branch of the clan remained behind to guard the region. This branch became the line of dukes known today as the Shan.

These lands are less densely populated than the east. Flat land is hard to come by, so animal herding is more common than farming. Many of the humans live semi-nomadic lives not much different than the canids of the Imavant. But some towns have sprung up. Timber is plentiful, and there are rich deposits of jade and other minerals. Silk is also an important product of the region, as it is in the east. Unlike the common practice in the east, the people of the west own their property outright, and jealously guard their rights to their land. But all owe fealty to the Dukes of Shan, and send a tithe of their produce to the stronghold of Hei Chao in the foothills of the southern range.

Hei Chao's charred sides tower above the surrounding hills, the relic of some wilder and more chaotic age. The mountain has stood quiet for as long as anyone can remember. Perhaps whatever primal fires once built this place have died off for good.

The outer surface is steep, almost sheer in places. The volcanic rock is smooth and slick, but crossed by jagged edges which wind and rain have scoured but not dulled. Scaling it would be a fool's errand. Breaching it would take some craft that engineers do not currently possess. Perhaps if all the black powder in the world were gathered, one could conceive of such a thing. As it stands, entrance into the old caldera is gained only by flight or by natural openings in the rock, the tunnels that molten stone once ran through long ago. How many of these there are is a state secret. Only one entrance is publicly known, but all are guarded carefully.

Beyond the bronze gates and the cool tunnel, one comes into a bowl-shaped landscape surrounded by the mountain's dark wall. The caldera floor is green and fertile. A small lake lays at the center, well-stocked with fish. The plains north of the lake are given to farms and orchards. The east and west sides are pastures for sheep and cattle. Close to the north wall are pastures for the famed sheng runners, the mounts the army uses for light cavalry.

As the ground slopes up, mansions and estates hug the sunny sides of the cliff. The earliest settlers chose to build their homes here where the most sunlight could be found. Many of these families still own their original plots, although some have fallen to obscurity. The palace of the dukes dominates the area. Further up, along the very walls of the volcano, are eyries for the zhao fliers. On most days a few of these can be seen drifting through the air high above or swooping down to snag a fish from the lake. Watch posts on the rim and outer slopes of the mountain are rotated constantly and most are accessible only by flight.

The southern side of the caldera is almost always shadowed by the cliff above it, and thus is less desirable real estate. Pigsties can be found here, along with farms of fungi and edible lichens, generally used for animal feed. Much of the area is given to storage pits and warehouses, stocked with provender, non-perishable food, and fuel for the cold winters. These stand near businesses such as slaughterhouses and tanneries, soap-makers and chandlers. A town has sprung up around these businesses. The inhabitants are commonly called shaders.

On the south edge of the lake, a rocky hill rises up. A fortress stands on its western side. Called the Rock of Last Resort, it is meant to be the fallback position in case the mountain is ever breached. This is where the soldiery train and drill, and where councils of war are generally held. There are said to be pits and caverns beneath it which contain food and weaponry for a prolonged siege, as well as dungeons to house dangerous prisoners. There are even whispers of secret passages that lead to caverns deeper still. In the summer when the northern slopes grow hot, the Duke and his family come here, to cooler but somewhat austere quarters. This also gives him a chance to check up on the store of supplies. Many courtiers and other slopers accompany them, and it is common for rich northern youths to go slumming in the shader taverns. Many a concubine got her start from the results of such adventuring, and several legendary fortunes have been lost in the town's gambling dens.

Anyone who grew up in Hei Chao will proudly tell you if they were born a sloper or a shader. Common chatter portrays slopers as spoiled and rich-- although no one would say this about the Duke and his family, Heaven preserve them. Shaders on the other hand are poor and scrappy. The truth is, of course, more nuanced.  Most of the estates and buildings on the north slope belong to the oldest families in the mountain. But that does not always mean that these families became wealthy, or maintained what wealth they did gain. Furthermore there are family servants and retainers who live on the slopes, as well as soldiers, scouts, and the trainers of the zhao fliers. Meanwhile in the shadowed side there are merchants, artificers, and warehouse owners who have done quite well for themselves, not to mention officers and soldiers who gained plunder in the war. Despite these facts, the stereotypes remain in the minds of most. The mild rivalry between the north and south sides will extend even to expatriates who have not been to the mountain in decades, should they chance to meet one another.

With its food supply and nigh-impregnable walls, the mountain is well defended. Its one weakness are its bronze gates, which now seem painfully vulnerable to cannon fire. True, the narrow tunnels they guard would still be a killing zone that could long be held by defenders. But much thought and debate is currently being held over strengthening the defenses. Some have suggested building iron gates at multiple points along the tunnels and hollowing out spots behind them from which to shoot projectiles. But given the scarcity of the new metal and of workers skilled in its use, this would be a considerable expense. Others have suggested a curtain wall in the caldera itself to guard the opening of the main tunnel. But how much of the valuable space inside the mountain should be reallocated for this is unclear. No one is eager to give up their land for the project, but by the same token no one wishes to see the mountain fall to the King's men.

The Fortress of Wrath

 

The Palace of Pride

    Thought I'd use the AI art generator to come up with some locales based on the Seven Deadly Sins, mimicking the style of Gustave Dore. I'm rather pleased with the results.

    Yes, I'm aware that there are errors (or "scuff" as we call it in the biz) and choices that no sane architect would ever make, but I rather think they add to the charm of the thing. Anyway, a certain amount of surrealism is to be expected in any allegorical piece.

    Here's the first set. The prompt was "The Palace of Pride. Engraving, Gustave Dore." (Yes, that is a Spenser reference.)

The Untold Tales of the Round Table

Introduction: In which the Author explains his Intentions, in the Form of a Prologue

Many diverse and sundry tales have been told, whether by Geoffrey of Monmouth, universally condemned as a liar, or Sir Thomas Malory, who probably made stuff up too, but did it with style. Of these twain, most of the tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table have come down to us. However there were some tales which neither Monmouth nor Malory saw fit to include in their works. These have been collected from various sources, and I list here a portion of the Table of Contents, so that the reader may have a sampling of the flavor of these tales.

BOOK II

CHAPTER III-- Wherein Merlin transformed himself into a sparrow.

CHAPTER IV-- How that sparrow was immediately eaten by a hawk.

CHAPTER V-- How that hawk had gross indigestion.

CHAPTER VI-- The hawk landed on the ground and bashed its head repeatedly against the bole of an oak tree, to render itself senseless.

CHAPTER VII-- How it fell senseless and was immediately consumed by a bear.

CHAPTER VIII-- How the bear was fallen upon by hunters, which slew it

CHAPTER IX-- How it was prepared for a meal in King Arthur's court (with a list of the various herbs and spices which were used to prepare it)

CHAPTER X-- How when the bear was opened, Merlin emerged alive and unharmed

CHAPTER XI-- How the Knights of the Round Table did vomit, and swore never to eat bear again (or at least during Lent)

BOOK III

CHAPTER IX-- How Gutred, leader of the Saxons, defied Arthur by speaking unfavorably of his parentage.

CHAPTER X-- How Arthur responded in kind, referring to Gutred's mother in ungentlemanly terms.

CHAPTER XI-- More of the same.

CHAPTER XII-- Gutred's reply.

CHAPTER XIII-- Lancelot's rebuttal.

CHAPTER XIV-- More of Lancelot's rebuttal (This chapter has unfortunately been edited by a scribe who wrote in the margin: "By the Saints, never should a Christian man hear such churlish speech!)

CHAPTER XV-- The resulting battle and slaughter which ensued due to Lancelot's outrageous smack talk.

BOOK IV

CHAPTER XXXVII-- Wherein Sir Lancelot, having gotten high off of Merlin's herbs, went berserk

CHAPTER XXXVIII-- How he slew seven knights of the Round Table who went to subdue him, lopping off their heads

CHAPTER XXXIX-- How he didst also slay many commoners and many Pictish prisoners of war (but no one cared about them, for they were Picts)

CHAPTER XL-- How Merlin didst reattach the heads of the seven knights and caused them to have the semblance of life

CHAPTER XLI-- How in this state they didst prophesy and show many marvels

CHAPTER XLII-- Having ceased their prophesying, they didst march into the churchyard and dig for themselves seven graves, and bury themselves in them

BOOK V

CHAPTER XII-- How there was some confusion about the names and identities of Sir Belvidere and Sir Bedivere, due to careless pronunciation

But I shall not weary the reader. It is obvious why these tales were not included in Malory's work, being of sensational and sometimes contradictory material. One excerpt however, I wish to draw to the reader's attention in full and shall hopefully do so in another missive.

Liangyu, a Kingdom Divided

  To the east of the Imavant is a land in turmoil.

For centuries, the Huo Dynasty ruled Liangyu in prosperity and peace. In the west, a line of border Dukes known as the Shan defended the kingdom from sporadic incursions of canid tribes. Science and art flourished in a thousand forms. All seemed well.

King Chengshi took as his chief wife a daughter of the Shan, in a move meant to cement the bonds between the two families. The son of this union, Prince Chou, was designated the heir and grew to be a well-respected soldier and statesman. But the King, nearing old age, developed an infatuation with a young concubine named Xiyi and began to dote on her to the exclusion of all else. Eventually he installed her as the new Queen and named their newborn son the Crown Prince. After an attempt on their lives, Prince Chou and his deposed mother fled to her father's court in the west. Outraged by the shameful treatment of his daughter and grandson, the mighty Duke of the Shan raised the banner of rebellion. Allying with some canid clans, he brought war to Liangyu.

The King was unpopular and few nobles answered his call to arms. Were it not for the wooden automatons that made up the bulk of his army, it is doubtful he would have held out. In the event, the first battle was close-fought, and both sides fell back to lick their wounds. Afterward, the Shan alliance with the dogmen galvanized the King's vassals to rally to his side, fearful that their lands and titles would be conquered by the barbarians. The war dragged on, and neither side could win a decisive victory.

This was all decades ago. Both King and Duke have passed on, but the war continues, in spurts and lulls, among their descendants. The concubine's son now reigns in the east, backed by his nobles and the family of artificers who create his automatons. In the west, Chou's three sons maintain their father's right to the throne, and with the help of the Shan and their canid allies they seek to claim it.

The cultures of the two factions have begun to drift apart, or perhaps the ongoing conflict has simply revealed divisions which already existed. The coastal east looks to the sea and the southern jungles of Argathras, importing exotic goods-- and faiths. The creed of the Teacher has begun to take root in the this country, to the discomfort of some of its more conservative elements. And everywhere one sees the various types of automata and other devices that have been developing over the past few generations. The west, by contrast, is landlocked. But it holds a near monopoly on the brisk trade which runs north thru the Sokot Desert and then west to far-off lands. The Duke's people have become experts in silk production-- as have many of their canid allies. While the dogmen had long been some of Shan's most implacable foes, a common enemy (with rich lands to plunder) seems to have united the two groups. How long this arrangement can truly last, who can say.

Automata are rare in the lands of the Shan. The easterners guard the secrets of their craft closely, and many of the rural folk of the west distrust their innovations. They tend to view the east as decadent, dishonest, and far too quick to put their trust in lifeless machines. Meanwhile, the easterners take pride in their sophistication and progress, viewing the Shan as blunt rubes, or even barbarians. Their alliance with the dogmen is felt to be a deep and unimaginable betrayal. But, they grudgingly admit, Shan courage and resourcefulness is undeniable.

Still, it is too simple to dwell exclusively on the two warring houses. Some nobles are still trying to maintain neutrality, and others seek to play the factions against each other. A few have switched sides, some more than once. There are also isolated clans and domains which have never bent the knee to the Huo kings. There are commoners just trying to go about their business in peace. And there are more unusual characters too. Wandering scholars go about, unearthing old secrets. Alchemists travel across the kingdom to procure ingredients for their elixirs, leaving strange rumors in their wake. Students of the martial arts hone their bodies to the breaking point in pursuit of perfection. And, of course, rogues of all stripes ply their shadowy trades on both sides of the border.

And, in the background, lurk wilder and stranger things.

The Whistler

In general, the aerial creatures of Mars known as "drifters" consume food by ingesting their prey whole. This keeps most from being a great threat to human visitors, as they are limited to swallowing creatures smaller than themselves. The toxins in their tentacles are still harmful to a human, and a drifter that feels threatened or startled is likely to lash out. But most kinds will tend to avoid human-sized beings if possible.

There are, however, two main exceptions. We will discuss one today.

The whistler is a drifter that has several specialized tentacles which contain "leeching tubes". Once it has paralyzed a victim with its toxin, it inserts the leeching tubes into its prey and proceeds to suck up nutrients from the victim's body. This method of feeding allows the whistler to live off creatures larger than itself, and also to share its prey with others of its kind.

In other words, they hunt in packs.

Like most drifters, the whistler propels itself by forcing air through its aeolian ventricles. This method allows it to reach roughly the speed of an average human's walking pace. Faster speeds require preparation. The whistler has a specialized bladder-like organ which it will gradually fill with highly pressurized air. To achieve top speed, the whistler will let the air out in a swift stream, pushing the animal swiftly forward and causing the high-pitched sound for which it is named.

They commonly rely on ambush tactics, using trees or rocks as cover, tethering themselves with their tentacles. Conserving their energy by remaining in one place, they can go for months without eating. Once suitable prey comes within range, they emerge and strike quickly with a speed burst.

Conversely, whistlers may simply drift on the air currents. They can even harness a favorable wind by extending a retractable fin known as the artemon, which functions as a sail. This is useful for longer migrations or excursions in search of prey. Once a potential target is spotted, a pack may stalk their quarry, gradually hemming it in on all sides. Their energy expenditure is fairly low when moving at a normal speed. If they can tire out their quarry, they will move in when it stops to rest or collapses from exhaustion. If they seek to end things more quickly, they may use the speed burst to close the distance. 

Whistlers are opportunistic, and will not hesitate to feed off another predator's kill if possible. They may even scavenge carcasses that have been dead for some time. Like most drifters, they can use their tentacles to snag smaller prey, such as birds or small skyrays, which they swallow whole. The paralytic toxin numbs the animal while it is digested in the main compartment of the whistler's body. A whistler's digestive system is highly effective. Even bones and cartilage are  broken down and consumed.

Whistlers have no fear of humans and will actively hunt them if they sense an opportunity. Even one sting may leave you unable to move for hours-- long enough for a whistler pack to completely exsanguinate you. Dress in thick clothing that covers the majority of your body. If you should encounter a whistler, fire is typically the most effective method of dealing with them. The gas which keeps them aloft is highly flammable. Be careful not to get caught by the resulting explosion. The whistlers are wary of fire and the sight of it may be enough to keep them at bay-- for a time. They probably can afford to outwait you.

Author's note: I had to watch this during research, so now you do too. Them's bloggin' rules.