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?"