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 stalagmites. 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.

The Strife-of-Tongues

    Tei Pao looked uneasily at the clearing, a circular patch of open space somehow devoid of trees or brush. A clump of rocks lay near but not quite at the center. Otherwise low grass covered all until it reached the edge of the surrounding forest. He held up his hand to signal Huin behind him. The mercenary stopped short with a surprised huff and glowered at him. "What is it?" he whispered.

    Pao didn't turn. "I don't know," he replied in a low tone, "but something feels off."

    "To hell with your feelings."

    "Why are there no trees-- hell, no shrubs? Nothing but grass." He paused. "There aren't even any fallen branches. How is that possible?"

    A handful of birds drifted lazily out from the canopy and began to descend toward the floor of the clearing. Tei Pao glanced at them, then back to the clearing. "The whole thing looks far too circular to just be random. I don't like it. I say we go around."

    The birds settled quietly on the ground and began to peck around. Huin snorted. "We've been hacking through the undergrowth for hours, and when we finally reach open ground--"

    Suddenly and silently, bright red tendrils erupted from the floor of the clearing a few feet behind the birds. There were half a dozen of them, long, thin, and sinuous. Each one arced forward and grasped at a bird, grabbing at the heads. Two birds managed to take wing, but the pursuing limbs shot after them like a frog's tongue catching flies. In barely enough time to even register what was happening, the two men watched the red streamers wring each bird's neck, breaking them, and then flinging the carcasses far into the trees in one continuous motion. Then they silently slithered back into the ground. Soon, only the grass remained, but with a few scattered patches of feathers or specks of blood.

    Without a word the two men turned and moved back along the trail they had just made.

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    An unknown civilization in the distant past buried unageing monsters in the earth to guard their graves. Sages aver that the ancient and proper name for these abominable things is Strife-of-Tongues. The woodcutters of the Yeng call them Lickers.

    Each licker is housed inside a spherical casing made of some substance with the look of bone but the feel of stone. Whether this is its natural shell or its arcane cage is unclear. It is thought that the sphere amplifies vibrations in the soil, helping the Strife-of-Tongues locate its victims. The sphere and the organism inside is generally found two or three yards beneath the surface. A system of roots grow down through tiny apertures in the lower half of the sphere to anchor it and presumably to take in nutrients. The top of casing contains ten to twelve larger holes, each about two inches wide. These are for the use of the "tongues", red prehensile appendages of a leathery texture and impressive strength, anywhere from ten to twenty feet in length. They bore swiftly through the ground and burst through the surface to strike at anything that comes within their range.

    Smaller animals such as birds or mice are killed as quickly as possible and the carcass thrown outside the circle. Larger creatures are given a warning to frighten them away. This generally consists of the tongues snapping at the intruder like whips, or perhaps wrapping around the leg and attempting to drag it back towards the edge of the circle. If the trespasser persists in its encroachment on the licker's territory or attempts to fight back, the attack of the tongues becomes lethal. They may attempt to constrict by wrapping around the ribs and squeezing. Or they may try to grab the head and snap the neck. Occasionally they get creative and grab two of the creatures limbs, then pull each in a different direction until flesh and bone separate.

    Any remains will be pushed or hurled outside the circle. The licker keeps its territory (considered to be anything in the range of its tongues) meticulously free of most debris, so as to not impede its detection of intruders or the mobility of its tongues. Branches and other deadfall from the trees are cleared away, and any sapling that grows higher than a few inches is also uprooted and cast out. One thing that the licker will not interfere with, however, is stone. To be sure, if it is hit by a stone weapon, it will retaliate if possible. But if a rock lands on its territory, it will send out a tongue to feel it, and upon feeling its texture, ignore it thenceforth, accepting it as just part of the landscape. It is thought that this is some innate programming in the creatures' behavior by whatever wizard first dreamt it up, so that it would not attack the megalithic stones used to build the burial chambers that they were (generally) placed to guard.

    These dolmen-like structures sometimes still exist within the licker's circle, although occasionally the ravages of time or changes to the environment have wiped them out or buried them far deeper than their rooted guardian. The few of these tombs that have been explored and looted have yielded curious artifacts but very little clues as to the nature of their builders.

    Larger debris such as fallen trees may tax even the great strength of the tongues, and it will take time for them to clear them. They may start a fire by means of friction and retreat below ground, leaving the log to burn to a more manageable state. Such blazes can easily become larger conflagrations should they reach the surrounding forest.

    There seems to be no limit on the lifespan of these organisms. Any tongue that is cut off will regrow within a matter of weeks, although it may take up to half a year to reach its full length. The few that have been killed were ones which were partially unearthed due to earthquakes or landslides. The casing once broken (a difficult task), the creature within appeared to be little more than a pink pulsating blob of indeterminate shape. Any attempts at communication via mundane or magical means proved unfruitful. Once dead, the strife-of-tongues quickly decomposes, releasing a foul-smelling vapor which contains bacteria highly lethal to any who breathe it in.

    Fortunately the territory of a licker is usually fairly obvious to spot and avoid, being a near perfect circle of grassland within a forest, often with a megalithic tomb toward its center. A submerged licker is incredibly difficult to combat, but should you manage to destroy all of its tongues you should be free to access the dolmen and plunder it.

Lin Flora

    In the darker parts of the forest, perpetually shadowed by the interwoven branches above, are infestations of dream moss. While not unique to Lin, it is most common here, and the local variety is the most potent. Dream moss emits a vapor which causes vivid hallucinations, almost inevitably of something hostile to the victim. This may take the form of a natural beast, an enemy combatant, or some nightmarish chimera from the depths of the subconscious. You may even face an apparent duplicate of yourself, with all your skills and abilities. In the combat that ensues, the effects of the illusion are so intense that one will take actual physical damage-- not to mention whatever harm one causes or receives in the real world while they are gripped in the nightmare's delusion. Despite the sinister nature of the visions it induces, dream moss is sought out and collected by some of the foresters, who sell it to apothecaries as an ingredient.

----

    The lulun, or faefire mushroom, glows softly with a blue bioluminescence. Upon detecting passersby via vibrations in the ground, it releases a gas which causes first euphoria, then overwhelming calm, and finally a deep and dreamless sleep which can last for hours. During that time it will send out a vast amount of spores in the direction of the sleeper, so that as many as possible will be carried away by the sleeper when they wake and leave. Not necessarily harmful in itself, but in a place like Lin falling asleep in the open is rarely a good idea. Luluns are widely sought for their use as a sedative.

----

    The purple terror is a plant which grows in the canopy and sends down vines to suck up moisture from the ground. They are commonly found near ponds or streams. The vines are prehensile and terribly strong. If a creature is caught by them, they will wrap around it and pull it up into the air to trap it. There are tiny, sharp protrusions which stick into the victim and drain its fluids into the plant. Purple terrors can be noted by the bright and beautiful purple flowers that blossom in the canopy-- and by the bones of man and beast caught in their tendrils.

    The purple terror and the lulun often grow close by each other, the purple terror predating on those who fall asleep in the lulun's circle. This still works to the lulun's favor as the victim is hoisted high in the air by the vines, and its spores are dispersed by the wind over a wide area.

The Swine God

    Vast herds of boar inhabit Lin, dangerous enough for humans armed only with flint or bronze. But the Yeng have managed to hold their own and slowly press forward, driving the herds before them.

    Angered at the loss of their territory, the boars retreated further into the sanctuary of the trees. Rooting about for truffles and fallen acorns, they murmured their complaints to the earth. And somehow, in her silent yet restless slumber, she heard.

    The Swine God ripped its own way out of its mother's womb. After draining the corpse of its blood, it went to the nearest sow, drove off her young and suckled milk from her. The beast grew rapidly and soon was the undisputed leader of the largest herd.

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    Thu Khar, the Swine God, the Iron Boar, stands ten feet high at the shoulder and is nearly eighteen feet in length. Three tusks grow on the right side of its snout and two on the left, all dagger-sharp. Its saliva will cause burns to human skin and damage to the eyes. Its hoofs are caked in blood and there is always a swarm of flies about it. Its sides and flanks are plated with a thicker hide nearly impervious to most weapons. Visually they resemble the skin of a rhinoceros but with a faintly metallic sheen. The rest of it is covered in shaggy, matted fur, black save for a rust-colored mane along the head and spine. A great stench precedes it and lingers in its wake.

    As long as its heart is intact and its body is in contact with the earth, Thu Khar will heal rapidly. (Note that severed pieces of the beast do not count toward this.) The effect is more pronounced in the summer than in the winter. A cut or a stab will close and mend in a matter of seconds or minutes in the summer. In winter it could take up to a day. A limb or eye will regrow within a day during summer, but will take about a week or so in the winter. The head will take a week to regrow in summer and up to a month in winter. The body is inert while the head is gone or regrowing. During this time Thu Khar's remaining offspring and the herd will guard it ferociously.

    If the heart is damaged, the regeneration will focus on healing the heart first, provided the body has contact with the earth. Any natural ground counts as "earth" in this case. An artificial floor or pavement does not. A dirt road counts, a natural deposit of gravel counts, but a gravel road will not. If the heart is reduced to ashes or cut into chunks and separated, it will not regenerate. If there is a stake or blade through the heart, the heart will reform around it and begin operating again. Once the heart is reformed, the body will begin to heal itself as above.

    A corpse blade will cut through the armored hide almost effortlessly. The same goes for Ayis. A wound inflicted on the Iron Boar by Ayis will not regenerate, no matter what.

    The Swine God leads its forces in an unrelenting campaign against humanity. It wages war with an almost human intelligence, laying ambushes and crafting rudimentary traps. Those whom it slays, it eats.

    In its youth it mated prodigiously. (Now it is far too large for any sow, not that that stops it from trying.) Its children are about halfway between its size and that of a normal boar. They have similar armor and a variety of extra tusks, but not its healing ability. Some have split off to lead herds of their own, and are beginning to show signs of growing to their sire's image and size. Those still in its herd often lead scouting or raiding parties, or aid in the setting of traps.

    Thu Khar and its spawn seem able to communicate with each other and to a certain extent with the herd. It will not be possible for a player character to communicate with any of them, however, by any means.

    The Iron Boar has caused havoc for Yeng and tribesmen alike. The vastness of its herd has begun to exhaust the food supply of other animals in the region and even cause problems for the trees as the hungry swine damage bark and root. Its territory is to be avoided if possible, but it is always seeking to expand or shift its domain as vegetation gets eaten up. One way or another, the Swine God must be stopped.

Forest of Lin, continued

    The official entrance to the Forest of Lin is the town of Fǔtóu, or "Axehead". Built where the River Yun emerges from the forest, it is the main hub of operations in Lin. Supplies and personnel are shipped here for processing and distribution among the camps as needed, and raw timber is in turn brought here, documented, and shipped downriver to Mutsai.

    Unlike the camps, Axehead is a permanent settlement and therefore boasts many of the amenities one might expect in a town of its size. Laborers from the nearby camps may come in on their rare rest days to spend their earnings on wine and women. But they are not allowed to get too wild. In some ways Axehead is run even more rigidly than Mutsai. Everything here is the property of the Yeng Clan.

    There is tension between Axehead and Mutsai. The officials here feel that the clan leaders demand too much of them and offer too little support. Meanwhile Mutsai generally accuses them of laziness and carelessness. These frustrations have not led to an actual split-- neither group could function without the other, after all-- but the embers of a true quarrel are there, and who can say what further events may inflame it.

    The area closest to Axehead has been deforested and replanted several times. Rows of trees stand in straight lines, each square plot planted in a different year. In addition there are wide fields of farmland and pastures which keep the town and many of the closest settlements fed. Yeng officials grumble about using land for crops when it could be used for timber, but the costs of shipping food in upriver from Mutsai make this a necessity. One hardly feels oneself to be within a great primeval forest here. It is only as one goes further upriver that one begins to encounter pockets of old growth.

    Expansion into Lin naturally followed the course of the River Yun and its various tributaries coming down from the central highlands. Water travel is still the most reliable means of navigating the area but one must always be on the lookout for the vast flotillas of logs which are continually being shipped downstream. It is helpful to have a guide with knowledge of the frankly arcane patterns, schedules, and techniques of the shipping, and even then a logjam may set one back days. Where the rivers do not go, paths have been made across the cleared land for oxcarts to drag logs by, although this is much less cost effective than using the water. Still the Yeng are determined to harvest the pockets of old growth that remain away from the waters' edge, and little by little these ancient groves are shrinking as they are whittled away. But as you go further north or east you approach the tree line and begin to glimpse the true Forest and the camps along its verge.

    The camps naturally must follow the line of trees, and as one area becomes depleted and is replanted, the buildings are disassembled and moved to a new location. Many structures are basically tents, but even those that require a bit more permanency have still been designed with this function in mind. Pins holding together interlocking beams are removed and the whole building is taken down and carried off to be rebuilt at the new site. Generally speaking nothing is allowed to be left behind or abandoned, but occasionally one will find a building that for one reason or another remained at an older site. Most abandoned structures become swiftly overgrown with fungus, mold, moss, and creeper vines.

    The camps are dangerous places where rough and hardened men wage war against the forest which always seeks to take back its own. Both predator and prey are dangerous here-- more lives have been lost to a boar's tusks than a bear's claws. There are even plants which will seek to strangle a man and suck his blood. And there are hostile minds as well. Most of the native tribes will periodically attempt to raid the camps near their territory. Perhaps a third of the forest is even rudimentarily explored, and only half of that is safely under control. Whispers also abound of ghosts and forest devils, and of a certainty there are mind-reading apes in the central highlands, which raid native and settler alike.

The Forest of Lin

  While Mutsai is the headquarters of the Yeng, the great bulk of their resources come from their extensive holdings in the Forest of Lin, northeast of the city. The forest was granted to the Yeng by royal edict when they were raised to noble status. At the time, the forest was a relatively unexplored tract of wilderness, little understood. Even today, after a century or so, there remain vast swathes that are outside of the Yeng's direct control. Yet they jealously insist on their claim to the entire forest and will brook no rival to enter.

The forest itself is immense, a remnant of the primeval forest which once dominated the entire coastline before rise of the sea and the coming of men. Level around the perimeter (for the most part), it begins to rise as one goes further in, culminating in rugged and forbidding mountains in the heart of the wood. While the Yeng have not succeeded in conquering that area, they have established a great ring around the forest's edge. This boundary is called the Verge. It is at most a few miles in width and is patrolled by automata shaped like beasts of prey-- bears, tigers, packs of wolves and so forth. Humans whom these beasts find within the boundary are set upon and attacked without mercy. The only exceptions are those bearing a certain type of talisman which the Yeng create. This apparently marks one as a non-hostile and allows safe passage among the wooden watch-beasts.

Such passage is necessary from time to time, for the absence of humans from the boundary has created a haven for animals of all kinds, and deer and other such creatures flock here to escape from hunters. At times their numbers swell too greatly and they become a threat to groves of newly planted trees, and must be culled. And of course, where there are prey animals one will find predators. Living panthers and lynx slink among the wooden ones, and while these are permitted to help keep the herbivores numbers at a healthy level, at times a predator will become a danger to humans and must be sought out and put down. And, rarely but not unheard of, stranger and more deadly things lurk among the shadows of the Verge.

The only safe route through the boundary, officially, is the river Yun. Travelling up river by galley requires a permit from the Grand Lodge, bearing the Seal of the clan. Any vessel found on the river without a permit will be confiscated by guardsmen and the passengers imprisoned. Unofficially there may be a way in along the southeast, where an undulating stretch of land known as the Bubble holds an extensive cave network.

There is another path which leads into the forest but it would hardly be described as safe. An ancient Ghost Road from the Mi Dynasty breaches the western border of the wood and continues to the ruins of a city about twenty miles within.

The Wood Fane

  The Wood Fane stands to the west of the Grand Lodge, and is dedicated to the Wood Elemental. Liangyu recognizes five elements or agents which undergird the structures and processes of creation. While "mu" is literally translated as wood, this force or power is not strictly limited to the substance of timber but is associated with all vegetable life, particularly with growth and greenery. Indeed another name for this power is "The Greening". The Yeng have always paid especial homage to this entity, as the Huo do to Fire.

North of the altar is the eight-sided tower of the god, with out-jutting roofs on each of its eight stories, each story narrower than the one below it. The tallest building in Mutsai, there is nothing quite like it in all of Liangyu. The roof tiles are copper which has long since aged to a fine green, while the wooden walls are painted red. The overall appearance is not disharmonious and recalls the image of a large pine tree.

On each set of eaves perch eight wooden owls, every feather delicately carved and every talon dagger-sharp. Their heads swivel to track approaching visitors. They have never been seen to shift position, but each day they are in a new configuration.

Only the priestly caste of the Yeng Clan are allowed to enter, so information about the layout and contents of the tower is practically non-existent. There is talk of a brick-lined chamber, a room known as the "Dragon Palace". It is said to hold a relic of great antiquity and value, but accounts vary wildly as to the precise nature of the artifact.

Behind the tower are a stand of toon trees. When the stems bud red, this is heralded as the start of spring. Chickens are sacrificed along with grains of wheat from the previous harvest. A festival is held in the great plaza south of the Fane and the Lodge. Lute music is played throughout the day, and a dumpling with sour filling is traditionally consumed.

The Grand Lodge

    Roughly two hundred years have passed since Jiang presented his first automaton. His descendants, the Yeng, carried on his work. Today, the automata are found everywhere, some serving as laborers and others as soldiers. The robots form a vital part of the workforce and are indispensable to the kings' military. To this day no one outside of a small circle knows the secret that gives these creatures a semblance of life. Those who have examined them claim to have detected no trace of magical or mechanical power. Only the highest echelons of the Yeng are privy to this knowledge, and they are sworn to secrecy by mighty oaths. Furthermore the Yeng are aware that their position depends on their control of the automata and their sole access to the secret. They are surrounded by noble clans which purchase their product while envying and despising their success. This has made the Yeng far more loyal and tight-knit than many clans of higher birth.

    During their active years, the leaders of the Yeng and their immediate family dwell within the Great Lodge. This complex is the wooden heart of Mutsai and the core of the Yeng's operations. Here orders and payments to the Yeng are received, here their plans are hatched, and here every fresh batch of automata is brought for final inspection and activation. The outer area is a great square collection of garages and bays, built around an inner courtyard. On the outside, each of the great bays is fitted with two sets of doors which close to guard the privacy of the operations within. The doors on the inside, facing the courtyard, are less cumbersome and fitted with windows high up to let in the sunlight. Activities are directed by the position of the sun-- in the morning the bays of the west side are used, and operations move eastward to utilize the light most efficiently, with the north side being used at midday and the east at evening. No torches or lanterns are allowed within for fear of a blaze getting out of hand. The south is reserved for offices, stables, storage, and the great Main Gate.

    All entrances are guarded by members of the Yeng Clan chosen particularly for their strength and intimidating presence. They carry long-handed dagger axes for lethal combat and truncheons for non-lethal. Their leader is a man named Ilok the Butcher. As the name may suggest, he came from humble origins in a Yeng village serving as a meat cutter. He still carries his large meat cleaver as a side arm. It is said that a thief may expect to lose a hand, and a spy a foot.

    The imposing edifice of the Main Gate is carved with stylized trunks and branches. Despite its name, this gate does not directly lead into the courtyard but rather a separate area for those who have dealings with the Yeng. The foyer within is an imposing and grand room which boasts exquisite murals and moving dioramas, most depicting scenes of industry in the Forest of Lin. Beyond this room customers are ushered into the Spring Hall to a table where they may conduct their business. A fan hangs in the ceiling, powered by a waterwheel in an underground stream far below. Along three walls curtains of water drops, pumped here by some device, drip in a musical staccato mimicking rain.

    Only a small side door allows access from here to the courtyard, and this is off-limits to guests. The courtyard itself is broad enough to cart material from one bay to another, and workers often drive oxcarts across as needed. A red square border marks the central area where no one is allowed unless they are of the Yeng clan. It is patrolled by wooden dogs which are said to be able to smell the Yeng bloodline. If an outsider approaches, they will bay with the sound of oboes or bark with the noise of flutes. If the intruder persists they will attack. Only a select few ever enter this square to access the house within, mainly the leaders of the Yeng and a handful of trusted servants from lesser branches of the clan.

    The house is where the current heads of the clan live. These are not necessarily the oldest, as they must still be vigorous enough to inspect and activate the merchandise on a daily basis. Those who lose their vitality are retired with honors to mansions outside of the city to live out their last days in ease. But these current managers dwell here in the house. They dine on the ground floor (the only floor where servants are allowed) and sleep on the second. No one else is allowed up those stairs, and it is presumed that all work is done by automata. What lies on the topmost story is anyone's guess, but it is whispered by some that this is where the Yeng store their most treasured items, guarded by hulking automata with curved blades.

Excerpts from Livy

 [After Hannibal's attack on the city of Saguntum, an ally of Rome, Rome sent Fabius to the Carthaginians to demand whether this was done with their government's approval. They refused to reply, and told him to say what was really on Rome's mind.]

Fabius, in answer, laid his hand on the fold of his toga, where he had gathered it at his breast, and, "Here," he said, "we bring you peace and war. Take which you will." Scarcely had he spoken, when the answer no less proudly rang out: "Whichever you please-- we do not care." Fabius let the gathered folds fall, and cried: "We give you war." The Carthaginian senators replied, as one man: "We accept it; and in the same spirit we will fight it to the end."

[Hannibal's troops are nervous about crossing the Alps, so he gives the following speech.]

 "What sudden panic is this which has entered those breasts where fear has never been? Year after year you have fought with me, and won; and you never left Spain until all the lands and peoples between the two seas were subject to our power. When the Roman people demanded the surrender of the 'criminal'-- whoever it may have been-- who laid siege to Saguntum, you were justly angry and crossed the Ebro bent upon obliterating the very name of Rome and setting the world free. Then, at least, none of you thought of the journey long, though it stretched from the setting to the rising sun; but now, when you can see that much the greater part of the distance is already behind you-- when you have made your way through the wild tribes and over the passes of the Pyrenees, when you have tamed the violence of the mighty Rhone and crossed it in the face of those countless Gallic warriors who would fain have stopped you; when, finally, you have the Alps in sight, and know that the other side of them is Italian soil: now, I repeat, at the very gateway of the enemy's country, you come to a halt-- exhausted!

 "What do you think the Alps are? Are they anything worse than high mountains? Say, if you will, that they are higher than the Pyrenees, but what of it? No part of the earth reaches the sky; no height is insuperable to men. Moreover, the Alps are not desert. Men live there, they till the ground. There are animals there, living creatures. If a small party can cross them, surely armies can? The envoys you see with us did not, in order to get over, soar into the air on wings. Moreover, their own forebears were immigrants. They were countryfolk from Italy, who often crossed these same mountains safely enough-- hordes of them, with their women and children, whole peoples on the move. Surely, then, for an army of soldiers, with nothing to carry but their military gear, no waste should be too wild to cross, no hills too high to climb.

 "Remember Saguntum, and those eight long months of toil and peril endured to the end. It is not Saguntum now, but Rome, the mightiest city of the world, you aim to conquer. How can you feel that anything, however hard, however dangerous, can make you hesitate? Why, even the Gauls once captured Rome-- and you despair of being able even to get near it. Either confess, then, that you have less spirit and courage than a people you have again and again defeated during these latter days, or steel your hearts to march forward, to halt only on Mars' Field between the Tiber and the walls of Rome."

[They reach the Alps.]

 The nature of the mountains was not, of course, unknown to his men by rumor and report-- and rumor commonly exaggerates the truth. Yet in this case all tales were eclipsed by the reality.

 The dreadful vision was now before their eyes: the towering peaks, the snow-clad pinnacles soaring to the sky; the rude huts clinging to the rocks; beasts and cattle shriveled and parched with cold; the people with their wild and ragged hair; all nature, animate and inanimate, stiff with frost. All this, and other sights the horror of which words cannot express, gave a fresh edge to their apprehension. As the column moved forward up the first slopes, there appeared, right above their heads, ensconced upon their eminences, the local tribesmen, wild men of the mountains, who, if they had chosen to lurk in clefts of the hills, might well have sprung out from ambush upon the marching column and inflicted untold losses and disaster.

The First Automaton

     During the celebration of the Solemn King's Jubilee, the Pavilion of Unburdened Skies was thronged with well-wishers. Costly gifts from across the realm were presented. At last, as the shadows lengthened, there came a man from one of the local villages. His name was Yeng Jiang, and he was a woodworker by trade.

    Four burly apprentices followed him, carrying a man-sized object covered by a sheet. Standing it upright, they bowed and withdrew. Yeng Jiang stepped up to the object and unveiled it. It was a wooden figure of a man, exquisitely carved.

    "What a magnificent sculpture," the king noted. 

    The woodworker bowed. "With your permission, my Liege, it is so much more." He touched it on the chin.

    Gasps and cries rang out as the wooden figure moved. Slowly at first, then more steadily, it shifted its weight from one foot to another, as though testing its balance. Then it bowed toward the king. A moment later it was up and beginning the steps of a country dance. Astonishment turned to awe and delight as the figure capered about, moving with increasing quickness and dexterity. It leapt over a table and spun in a pirouette. It ended the dance with a head-over-heels flip, landed, and stood with arms outstretched to receive the court's thunderous applause.

    Even the usually reserved king was smiling at the display. All was well until the automaton struck a coquettish pose and began waving and blowing kisses to the ladies' gallery. "The impudence!" growled the king. "There must be a man inside of it. Seize the thing!"

    Yeng Jiang held up his hands. "Mercy, Great Lord! It is no man. Observe!" He again tapped lightly on the figure's chin and instantly it ceased all movement. Undoing a cleverly hidden latch, he swung open the automaton's hollow chest. It was empty, save for a wooden heart quietly beating.

    "It has no will of its own," explained the woodworker. "It does only what I have laid out for it to do."

    The king stroked his beard in silence for a moment. At last he spoke. "You have accomplished a significant feat. What would it take to turn your creation to a more... practical use?"

The War Palace

    When the Yeng built the War Palace, they placed it on the western side of the city, so that the palace's eastern wall is a segment of the city's western wall. Two gates that formerly led into the countryside now lead into the palace complex, although only one of them is for public use.

    The whole complex is more or less patterned after the old one at Peach Grove, but it is somewhat less open and ornate than that one. Thought has been given more to defense than to elegance. The entrances are narrower and the walls thicker and higher. It is whispered by some that the Yeng have built secret passages and listening posts throughout the complex, although this has not been confirmed.

    The complex itself is divided into five compartments, running from south to north. The southernmost, the Court of Imminent Appeal, is nearly a little city in itself. Here countless petty officials and servants have their own small apartments, and there are a handful of minor government buildings which each serve some obscure sector of the beurocracy. The Far Gate on the south wall opens to the countryside, while the Oak Gate on the east wall leads back into Mutsai. It is through one of these two gates that most visitors to the palace pass through.

    On the north of this area is the entrance to the next section of the palace. The Armory Gate, as the name suggests, leads into the area which houses the royal arsenal, The Court of Unkindled Flame. Barracks and stables are also found here. Anyone serving in the King's guard will have a bunk and locker in this court.

    Passing north through the Pheasant Gate one enters the third department, the Court of Unfettered Truth. Most of the royal bureaucracy works in this area, centered on the building known as the Outer Hall. Legal changes, judicial decisions, and royal decrees will be published here.

    The Gate of Reply, sometimes confusingly called the Main Entrance, leads into the fourth court, the Court of Enlightened Counsel. Here the King meets with his various councils and holds audience. The Ash Gate on the east side leads into the city. Few are allowed to pass through this gate. Only the King, his personal couriers, servants, and guards will generally use it, and that rarely. However, the Scions are allowed to enter it to attend the War Council in the latter half of the morning, after the King has finished with his administrative council.

    North of this is the Tiger Gate, painted a royal purple, which leads to the private living area of the king and his concubines. This area is designated as the Court of Undisturbed Tranquility. There is a banquet hall here which is reserved for exclusive dinners with the king and a select few. The King's House is here, along with various houses for concubines and apartments for eunuchs. Obviously this is where the king spends most of his time. The Queen's House stands uninhabited, for a chief wife has not yet been selected, and at Fennu's ascension his mother left the palace to live in seclusion on a country estate. She has not been seen in some time. Beside this house is the tomb of the former king, Chengshi-- but that name is never spoken here. By longstanding tradition, it is forbidden to use the name of a deceased king of the Huo line (and here is another place where Shan and Huo differ). Each deceased king is given a posthumous title. Fennu's father is properly referred to as the Reclusive King, although in less reverent circles he is called the Recumbent King.

    Fennu has stayed within the palace for much of his reign, infrequently entering the city and rarely going out into the country. He has never returned to Peach Grove, even during the times it was recaptured by the royal armies. This has made many uneasy. Traditionally the Altar of the Center is where the King makes sacrifice to the Lord of Heaven at midsummer, to ensure stability and prosperity. A fane has been erected on a hill about a days' journey from Mutsai, but it is unclear whether this stopgap measure will meet with Heaven's approval.

    Fennu has thus far ruled with a light touch, not overburdening the people with taxes or conscription. This has won him a fair measure of approval among the wider populace. But there are whispers in isolated corners of the capital. He is certainly a good king, they say, but isn't there something about him? That grin, for instance-- positively feral. And when you look at him from a certain angle, does he look-- not quite human? And his appetites are prodigious, even for a king. Nevertheless, they hasten to add, somewhat more loudly, he does not seem to be ruled by them. Unlike his father, he has not neglected affairs of state for affairs of the heart. Certainly none of the concubines (and there are quite a lot of them, aren't there?) seem to have captured his special attention.

    If he has not neglected the ship of state, he has also not given as free a rein as his father did to the Yeng family of artificers, or to the nobles. It certainly seems that he intends to bring both into line. How he intends to do that remains to be seen. It is doubtful that he can control one without the other.

The Scions (Roll Chart)

     Although there are many provinces in Liangyu, they are controlled by about two dozen clans. Some of these are descended from retainers of the Huo at the time of their ascension to power, rewarded with fiefdoms for their loyalty. Others are cadet branches of the Huo, given lands to tame in the hopes that they would not vie for power at home. Some houses were ennobled by the previous dynasty, the Mi. Their loyalty has always been somewhat suspect. And a very few are older than the Mi: ancient lines of tribal overlords and petty kings that were allowed to keep some measure of status under the shadow of the great Unifier. This is a strange and disparate lot even by the standards of this strange and disparate land.

    The Huo Kings demand that each of these noble houses send a male of their line to serve at court for the duration of the war. These hostages are commonly called Gongzi, which roughly means something like Lordling or Scion. The full title would run something like X, Scion of House Y and Member of the King's War Council. The Scions represent an unusual class in this city. Some have embraced their calling as members of the King's Council and seek to support the war effort with efficiency and fervor. Others have succumbed to the temptations that privilege brings, and spend much of their time in decadent pursuits. Most have ambitions, goals, and vendettas which may or may not match up with those of their clan.

    For the DM, this roll chart may be a starting point for creating unique Scions for the party to interact with. A Scion can be a useful patron or a powerful antagonist.

Personal Name, d20

1  Ai

2  Mian

3  Yan

4  Zhe

5  Dan

6  Shen

7  Fengren

8  Yuan

9  He

10 So

11 Jin

12 Guang

13 Ruoshan

14 Buzhu

15 Shing

16 Zifu

17 Ki

18 Huang

19 Jia

20 Dun

Clan Name, d20

 1  Jiang

 2  Ji

 3  Yao

 4  Si

 5  Yun

 6  Ren

 7  Gui

 8  Peng

 9  Balu

 10 Zhen

 11 Mi

 12 Kiu

 13 Fo

 14 Kai

 15 Wen

 16 Hong

 17 Fang

 18 Gong

 19 Chen

 20 Sun

Clan Symbol, d20

1  Sun Bird

2  Two Cups

3  Three stars

4  Stag

5  Five Bats

6  Pheasant

7  Stone Chimes

8  Dagger-Axe

9  Pearl in the Fire

10 Double lozenge

11 Rhino horns

12 A sprig of coral

13 Pomegranate

14 Pine Tree

15 Peach

16 Lotus Flower

17 Tiger

18 Heron

19 Tortoise

20 Kirin

Clan origin, d6

1 Ancient line, Pre-Unification

2 Cadet branch of the Mi

3 Ennobled by the Mi

4 Retainers or Allies of the Huo

5 Cadet branch of the Huo

6 Foreigners annexed by the Huo

Physical Appearance,  d6

1 Short

2 Fat

3 Average

4 Slender

5 Brawny

6 Tall

How old was this Scion when he first came here?

d20, add ten to roll. 11-30

How long has he been here?

d20. 1-20

Temperament, d6

1 Testy

2 Proud

3 Mocking

4 Relaxed

5 Reserved

6 Outgoing

Servants and Retainers, d6

Their morale is...

1 Unanimously loyal, to the death.

2 Mostly loyal, some outliers.

3 Fond of their lord but lack respect for him.

4 Fear and respect; loyalty but no love.

5 Frustrated.

6 Borderline mutinous.

Vice, d6

This Scion's weakness is...

1 Women. Can't resist a pretty face.

2 Wine. A connoisseur of all types of alcohol.

3 Gambling. Lives for the thrill of the game.

4 Hunting. Lives for the thrill of the chase.

5 Narcotics. High off his gourd.

6 Music. Acquiring a collection of musicians.

Home, d6

1 Cheap house in dockyards

2 Barracks (officer in the guard)

3 House in Oldtown

4 Palatial estate in Oldtown (entire block)

5 Estate in the country

6 King's favorite, has a house on the palace grounds

Rumors (optional), d6

1 High-voiced and beardless. May not be the man he makes out to be.

2 Was sent here as punishment for some crime against the clan.

3 Is plotting against the head of the family.

4 Has connections to Mutsai's criminal element.

5 Is rumored to dabble in esoteric practices.

6 Has the ear of Clan Yeng and has even been inside the Grand Lodge.

Mutsai: The Underground

    The automatons execute basic tasks and can respond to certain stimuli. While some are used for very basic (and deadly) security, they are not sophisticated enough for urban police duty. For that, the Yeng rely on human sentries. The Watch have made and kept Mutsai a model of order. They are meticulous, professional, and very well paid.

    The diligence of the Watch necessitated creativity on the part of criminals. Mutsai had been built with an underground sewer system rather than the usual canals. Criminals began to use the sewer tunnels for movement, meetings, and hideouts. Gradually they dug tunnels of their own. A network sprang up, crossing and crisscrossing beneath the city.

    The underground is not part of the Watch's circuit. The Yeng have tried to renegotiate the contract several times and the Watch always refuse. They will fill in tunnels from above, but they will not go below.

    Things grew more complex with the arrival of the nobles. Quarrels between the Houses led to an increased interest in the underground by thieves, spies and assassins. The Houses responded to this security threat in various ways. House Fo planted a moss which gives off hallucinogenic vapors. House Kai released a swarm of razorlings. And House Wen brought a particularly insidious breed of python from the south, which has proceeded to infest the entire system and prove a greater annoyance than the human vermin. To deal with the various threats once and for all, a few have suggested binding ghosts to the sewers to sweep them clean of life. The Yeng are concerned that one of the Houses may actually attempt this, with potentially deadly consequences.

    But there are other ghosts in the underground already. When digging the sewers, the Yeng uncovered a complex of ancient tombs. They walled it off, but as the population has increased so has the volume of sewage. It has begun to seep into the once-sealed vaults, causing unrest among the dead.

    It is rumored that the Yeng are seeking to form a new security force to patrol the underground. Such a group would certainly face danger from predators, criminals, and agents of the various houses, not to mention the restless dead. And it is quite possible that the Watch would view them as rivals. I urge those interested in the position to perform their own research before applying.

Mutsai

     Mutsai lies in a bend of the Yun River, in the territory of House Yeng. The city was planted by them shortly after they were granted noble status. Prior to this they had been mere craftsmen and artificers, but their invention of the automatons propelled them to a position of wealth and influence. The Yeng founded Mutsai as a base for their future endeavors.

    The first part of the city, Oldtown, was laid out as a walled square with three gates on each side. Each gate opens onto a broad tree-lined boulevard. Branching off from these main thoroughfares are lesser streets marking off blocks or "wards". Most wards are themselves enclosed with walls patrolled by the town watch. Guards are supposed to check anyone entering or leaving a ward. In the center of Oldtown is the Grand Lodge, headquarters of the Yeng. Just east of it is their Ancestral Hall. Directly on the Lodge's west side, where one might expect to find altars to the gods of soil and grain, there is instead a towering temple to the Wood Elemental, patron deity of the Yeng. The great marketplace is directly north of this central area. The northeastern quarter of the Oldtown contains many warehouses. The great forest of Lin is closest to this part of the city and vast reserves of timber are brought here for storage. The southeastern quarter is where most of the recreational establishments can be found-- taverns, gambling halls, and the like.

    The Yun River flows close to the southeast corner of the city. Docks and storage buildings line the shore. A collection of squalid tenements and tottering shacks gradually sprang up in this area between the walls and the river. The Dockyards, as it is called, has an ill reputation. Its winding and narrow streets are a stark contrast to the clean and orderly Oldtown. The sewers also empty into the river in this section, which gives it an unpleasant smell and poor health.

    When the Huo capital fell, the King decided to accept the invitation of the Yeng to retreat to their territory, instead of entrusting himself to one of the older noble clans. The Yeng built a palace for him west of the city, guarded by thick walls with cannon emplacements at the corners. Two gates of the west now open on the palace area-- one for general use, the other only accessible to the King and his immediate agents. It is officially understood that the King is the guest of the Yeng, and that they retain full control over the city proper, but the palace is entirely under the King's direction.

    Once established at Mutsai, the King took steps to ensure the continued cooperation of the remaining noble Houses. Each clan leader was ordered to send one of his sons to the royal court, ostensibly to sit upon the War Council. The unspoken truth is that they are hostages. They are, however, kept on a loose leash. Most have raised families of their own in the time they have been here. A few have managed to purchase estates outside the city. The rest are mostly scattered throughout the western side of Oldtown, close enough to be near the palace but maintaining a healthy distance from each other.  The noble houses have longstanding rivalries with each other, and plots and schemes are incessant.

    The Yeng, however, continue to run the city like a machine. Even the taverns are kept under a tight leash. Patrols are constant, and any disturbances are swiftly dealt with. The Watch pride themselves on maintaining law and order above ground.

    Below ground is another story.