The Campaign Builder's Guild

[/b]

[ic=Ot, On Life]Some have said they doubt me when I say the Forest itself is a living thing '" as I too am not alive, by their own musings on the subject.  To them, I am artifice, a peculiarity of time and substance, a puzzle of wood, stone, and metal.  But if I am artifice, so are they '" each one an odd mélange of blood, bone, flesh, feathers, scales.  They seek their artificer; I seek my own.  They miss the truth that I perceive: life dwells in the compositions, where blood mingles with flesh and wood mingles with water.  Plants thrive where the air meets the earth, and the speckled cats awaken when the day meets the night.  It is in the combination of things that life is realized.

How do I know the Forest itself is alive?  Because it composes all things.

- Ot, Cog philosopher[/ic]

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/rainforestband.jpg)

[/b][/size]

Imagine a vast jungle, replete with a vast chorus of living things.  The land is a verdant sea, blooming and lush, in which some creatures may live for centuries and never see the sky, obscured as it is by canopies of leaves and vines that rise higher than any fortress wall.  The sky is roiling and chaotic; blue skies are replaced in minutes by ear-shattering rainstorms that turn a footprint into a swamp.  There are valleys and mountains alike in this world, but there are few places to escape the ever-present jungle '" only the largest of the Seas and the Obsidian Plains, where barren mountains disgorge lava and sulfurous fumes into an ocean of broken blackness.  Even these features, however, are islands in a sea of life.

One might even lose a city in here '" and in fact, long ago, a forgotten people lost a whole civilization.  There are lonely statues, overgrown outposts, and entire empty metropolises shrouded in vines and ferns, with no builders to admire their works and no families to live in long abandoned houses.  These places are ancient indeed; some have been forgotten so long that they are unrecognizable underneath untold ages of growth.  It is an Empire of Neglect.

Who made these great structures?  Who could carve out such things from the ever-present Forest, which grows so quickly that a idle village could be swallowed in weeks?  They left no pictures of themselves.  Their artwork is everywhere, on walls and in grand statues, but they depict only abstract designs and strange, foreign animals that none have ever seen in life.  Of all the creatures that now live in the Forest, only some are depicted '" why thousands of pictures of the same bird, but no trace of a hackler, or rock serpent, or even a speckled cat?  Why do no jungle trees appear in their carefully made engravings and frescoes?  The denizens of the Forest can only guess at these questions.

This forgotten people, however, did leave some semblance of life behind '" the Cogs.  There are nearly as many kinds of Cogs as there are types of animals.  The Cogs are constructs, made of wood, metal, stone, and even glass, and animated by fine clockwork and some magic spark within them.  There are Cogs that appear like animals: Cog monkeys that look down curiously on denizens of the forest floor with empty glass eyes; Cog songbirds that flit about with clicking wings, singing beautiful and haunting melodies; even Cog speckled cats that will stalk and kill prey, only to leave its corpse for the scavengers '" for Cogs have no use for food.  There are other Cogs too; Cog haulers, tremendous lumbering tripods, and even Cog soldiers, gaunt sentinels watching over weed-strangled posts.  Save for those that have been 'awakened' through magic, they are at best semi-intelligent, like golems that have lost their master and continue their ancient instructions eternally.  The Cogs are uncannily drawn to magic, for it is magic that sustains them.  A shaman may call for a blessing of light, only to find that Cog lizards draw near him to bask in its glow.  Few spellcasters have not been, at some time or another, surrounded by a halo of twittering Cog birds upon casting a spell.  A spellcaster must be wary, however, less his magic attract something more dangerous, or awaken a Cog forgotten for millennia.

The sentient races of the Forest do not pay much heed to the Cogs.  To them, they are not too different than their 'natural' counterparts '" just less edible.  Just like their counterparts, however, Cogs are hunted, not for meat but for metal and glass.  The Iskites, the Gheen, the Umbril, and other races use these remnants to fuel their advanced societies; a Cog's tooth becomes the head of a spear, and the Iskites carry clockwork crossbows crafted from the metallic innards of their prey.  Some have even 'tamed' Cogs, through magic or accident; no Gheen is as feared as the World-Queen, who rules with the stone-faced (literally) Unfeathered Legion, a battalion of Cog soldiers who have been bound to her through sorcery.  Through the gifts of nature and of the forgotten Artificers, societies thrive in this land '" though it is a dangerous one, beset by peril as well as promise.  The undiscovered country lies around every tree and bush, for they say the Forest never sleeps.

The Forest is very much awake.  It is an entity all its own; it moves and grows faster than any 'normal' plant has any right to.  It bestows favors and curses, causing a vine to trip the unwary or making a traveler's path lead to a bounty of fruit.  It is the source of all things, and all things praise it.

It is not the only such entity in the world.  The Saffron Moss is a thing to be feared, like the awesome and terrible deity that it surely is.  Villages must flee the onset of the Moss, which bends anything it grows upon to its own unitary will.  Cogs overgrown by the Moss serve its desires, and the hapless living things it possesses end up neither dead nor alive, wretched slaves of its dark and inscrutable plans.

Welcome to the Clockwork Jungle.

[ooc]Some themes, which you may have picked up on:
Nature and machines.  Rather than making these things in opposition to each other, as they often are in fantasy, I want to explore the prospects of them co-existing.
A lost world.  This is a staple of fantasy '" nothing really new here, but I do want to emphasize the ubiquity of the ruins (they're everywhere, to the point where they aren't really anomalies so much as a part of the environment)
Verticality.  Something that's always bothered me about D&D games generally is their tendency to remain firmly 2d.  Sure, you have the occasional fly spell, and the beholder's levitation is a neat and interesting one-time challenge to a party, but I mean to make verticality an ever-present feature '" tall forest canopies give every encounter the possibility of 'busting out' into three dimensions, even if you're a 1st level fighter who's never heard of a fly spell.
Marginal civilization.  Once you exit your village and enter the Forest, you're in no-man's land.  There are no sprawling nations or 'civilized zones.'  Every village is an island, and civilization is the exception, not the rule.  Self-sufficiency is key, as the Forest takes a special delight in destroying roads and 'misplacing' markers.  It sounds trite, but the only law out here is '" well, the law of the jungle, I guess.

Your comments are, of course, welcome.
[/ooc]

Thread Table of Contents
(A little out of date)

Races

The Umbril (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.30#post_55546)*The Iskites (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.30#post_56370)*The Gheen (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.30#post_58705)*The Tahro (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.60#post_63653)[/list]
Current Topics

A Note on Gravity (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646#post_39658)*The Secrets of Lodestones (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646#post_39688)*Races of the Jungle (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646#post_40286)*The Saffron Peril (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646#post_40558)*Dendronautics (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646#post_51258)*The Obsidian Plain (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.30#post_51447)*The Court of the Netai Confederation (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.30#post_52059)*A Clockwork Bestiary (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.30#post_56503)*A Basic Map (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.30#post_56551)*The Grove of Tranquility (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646.60#post_59566)[/list]
Pending Topics

Symbiotes*Carnivorous Plants*Deities and Powers*More on Netai, the World-Queen, and others*For even more, check

the wiki (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Clockwork_Jungle)![/list]

I love the opening vignette.  Very evocative and compelling.

I was also struck by the strong similarities to a location in my own setting: ancient cities hidden in monolithic forests, their first inhabitants long-gone but their constructs enduring.  To top that off, your Saffron Moss reminds me of my own telepathic enslaver-fungus, the Viskke; they can't control constructs (they just rape souls), but their flavour seems (at least outwardly) very similar.  

Great minds, eh?

The similarities alone are enough to warrant my continued attention.  I'll be keeping my eye on this.

One question straight up: how advanced is civilisation?  What with the seeming impermanence of the forest's geography, how do folks manage enough stability to advance beyond the most subsistant existence?

Quote from: Salacious AngelGreat minds, eh?

One question straight up: how advanced is civilisation?  What with the seeming impermanence of the forest's geography, how do folks manage enough stability to advance beyond the most subsistant existence?
[/quote]

Parts of our own technological experience have been "skipped."  Nobody ever had a bronze age, for instance; they went straight from stone and obsidian to working the iron and steel found in Cogs.  The sentients deal with the problems posed by the Forest in various ways; the Gheen are feathered humanoids who live largely in tree-cities, and so the expanding forest doesn't bother them.  The Umbril carve their homes out of a tree's roots (imagine a building within a massive banyan tree's roots, for instance).  The Iskites are the most traditionally "advanced," as - like the stubborn and lawful creatures that they are - they simply slash and burn the forest around their villages, keeping the Forest back continually through meticulously organized labor.

Villages are largely self-sufficient; trade and communication are upheld by travelers, who usually go in large groups to avoid being attacked by a predator or other sentient group.  This is generally quite effective, since not even a Cog cat would attack 20 armed sentients together.  

The landscape is very volcanic and thus iron-rich.  This means two things: first, that despite the availability of Cogs, the Iskites know rudimentary iron-working techniques.  Large Cogs can be hard to find and difficult to hunt, so Iskite "scale iron" is traded and used for second-rate goods like pots and pans, anvils, and tools.  These days, Cog metal is generally reserved for weapons, artwork, and clockwork machinery.  Most villages have extensive knowledge of clockwork mechanisms salvaged from the Cogs, so the mechanical knowledge is equivalent to late medieval/early renaissance earth.

The second advantage of the iron-rich earth is that lodestones are well known.  Though often a trip to the Obsidian Plains is required, lodestones ensure that caravans stay on target even without maps or roads, or even steady landmarks.  Lodestone compasses are very valuable pieces of equipment, but they are common enough to ensure semi-regular travel between villages.

The general result of all this is a society that is very advanced in some ways (mechanics, navigation, metalworking) but quite backward in other ways (social organization, agriculture).  The result is societies that resemble "renaissance hunter-gatherers," who collect nuts and berries in woven baskets but know it's time to return home when they hear the tolling of their village's mechanical clock (usually the most important building in a village).  The Iskites are somewhat more advanced then the rest, but their advancement too is strangely "lopsided" given Earth standards.

This is downright awesome. It's what I wanted to kind of do in Dilandri with the halflings, but extrapolates it far further.

I can't wait to see this thing develop.

indeed, this is awesome. and the opening paragraph itself is amazing.

Trees in the Forest are tall '" really tall.  The tallest of redwoods or sequoias in our world would be unimpressive to a resident of the Forest, as they would seem rather average and bare in comparison to the trees of the Clockwork Jungle.  This is partially the result of a trait notable to us, but utterly unremarkable to the beings of this world: the Clockwork Jungle is, almost universally, a low-gravity environment.

Low-gravity environments are defined by the Manual of the Planes; there are both benefits and drawbacks, since the average adventurer, having grown up in an 'average' gravity environment, find their movements to be most ungainly.  Denizens of the Jungle, however, don't know anything else; they are used to low gravity and don't consider it 'low' at all.  Thus, anything from the Clockwork Jungle gains all the benefits from low gravity and none of the drawbacks.

Benefits of low gravity:

All items weigh half as much.*Weapon ranges are double.*All creatures gain +2 on Jump and Climb checks.*Damage from falling is 1d4 per 10 feet, rather than 1d6.

What does this mean for characters?
Firstly, it makes upward mobility much easier.  Any character will have an easier time climbing and jumping in the multi-layered forest canopies, and if the character happens to fall, the fall will be significantly less deadly.
Secondly, ranged combat is theoretically made more powerful, but in practice this isn't so; the Forest is so dense that there are very few places where one could realistically take advantage of huge weapon ranges.  It's only really going to make a difference in the air (above the canopy) and in certain environments (e.g. on one of the Seas).  Range increments are doubled, however, so ranged combat at even close and medium ranges will tend to be more accurate.
Thirdly, it means adventurers will be able to carry more equipment and more loot (twice as much, actually), so the DM should exercise caution '" that 'unliftable' gold statue you put as a decoration in a dungeon might be hauled away by adventurers who realize that it's only half as heavy as it seems.  You should still keep track of encumbrance, but carrying capacity (i.e. the size of your backpack) is likely to be a more serious concern than weight in this world.

Outsiders (which includes all those from 'other' planes and worlds), of course, will suffer the normal penalties for operating in low gravity (though they'll gain the benefits as well).  This takes the form of a -2 circumstance penalty on attack rolls and Balance, Ride, Swim, and Tumble checks.  Denizens of the Forest will perceive outsiders as clumsy and slow, at least until they adapt to their surroundings.

Not every place in the Forest is low gravity '" specifically, the Obsidian Plains are what we would call 'normal.'  Perhaps it has something to do with the heavy rock or the effect of so much lodestone in one place.  Natives find that they lack the normal advantages of their environment; weapon ranges are normal, items weigh the normal amount, and falling deals normal damage.  Keep in mind that for these creatures, none of this will be 'normal' at all.  Natives will also be uncomfortable in this environment, and suffer a -2 circumstance penalty on attack rolls and Balance, Ride, Swim, and Tumble checks (there is no negative modifier to Jump and Climb checks, but the positive modifier enjoyed in the Forest is, of course, lost).  Outsiders from 'normal' gravity worlds find the Obsidian Plains to be most suitable, at least in terms of gravity.  The few things that grow on the Plains look stunted and short to Forest races, though they are probably fairly normal by Earth terms.

This is facinating. I love the idea of the lopsided development, with "renaissance hunter-gatherers" quite possibly being my favorite mental image in ages.

My primary question is of weaponry. With the abundance of metal and relatively advanced technology, are rifles, cannons, or other more advanced weaponry avaliable? If so, how does it impact the setting? Since trade/travel between the villages is doable, does that also mean wars occur, or does the overwhelming threat of the forest mean that the primary struggles are against it? (I just noticed that spears and weapons are used, which answers that questions. However, do any more advanced Cogs exist that are armed with such weapons? Or ones with self-destruct sequences? Or even ones that just pose a bigger threat to the sentient races of the Clockwork Jungle - things like giant Cogs with their last order being  "destroy cities" or something less melodramatic but still dangerous to people?)

Also, I just want to hear more about Saffron Moss. What is it? where did it come from? What does it want? Does it have a purpose beyond just spreading? Is it at "war" with the sentient Forest?

Great stuff, and I cannot wait to see more.

Weaponry is very advanced, but pre-gunpowder, which remains undiscovered.  Halberds, crossbows, and all sorts of swords and axes are used.  Long pike weapons tend to be uncommon because it's hard to wield them in a jungle thicket, but they are occasionally used against large and dangerous creatures.  The Iskites use special arbalests (crossbows with a steel prod, instead of wood) that use a cranequin and a gear/pulley system to achieve tremendous power; this is probably the height of weapons technology.

Gunpowder would be frankly useless in an environment that is beset by torrential rain a significant part of the time.  Given local climate and the availability of magic, gunpowder is unlikely to ever be discovered.  It just wouldn't be reliable enough to be useful.

Siege weapons do exist, but they are less for sieges than for defense, since it's hard to drag a catapult through the jungle.  The Iskites use large ballistae that work in a similar manner to their crossbows; catapults are used by larger settlements, and the Gheen are especially fond of Ewok-style traps and snares.

Wars do occur, but they tend to be small in scale and rather rare generally.  It's not very feasible to attack another settlement with the intent to conquer it, because it would be impossible to link both together in an empire when you have to send a caravan through the jungle for a few weeks just to get a message through.  As a result, political entities beyond the single village level are very rare, and when they do exist it is usually because their rulers have access to magical communication.

Almost all organized combat, then, usually takes the form of raiding.  Raids are organized to take resources, and sometimes to take slaves - unless a slave can steal a lodestone, he has no way of finding his way back home, making escape difficult and slavery quite profitable.  For the most part, however, settlements are not inspired to go fight foreigners for things that are probably readily available somewhere else.

When wars do occur, they tend to be small affairs between squads of heavily armed, highly trained professional warriors who have honed their skills hunting since they were children.  The logistical difficulties inherent in supplying a large army on a long trek through the jungle mean that most rulers sensibly go for quality, not quantity.  A large army is not nearly as impressive, nor as useful, as a small group of powerful heroes.  Of course, if beset by enemies, a village will mobilize all the manpower it can to back up its best and strongest warriors.

Cogs usually don't have actual weapons, but this line is blurry - there is little functional difference between a dagger and a Cog speckled cat's canine teeth.  Soldier Cogs are the exception to this.  They are humanoid-shaped constructs who wield steel glaives.  These weapons are especially prized because they are nearly all magical (typically +1, but higher in rare instances).  Soldiers are probably the most intelligent of Cogs, and can be dangerous or benign depending on what their last orders were; some stand motionless, while others will only attack you if you come near the room they are supposed to defend, and some stalk through the woods killing everything in their path.  Unless their orders require your death, they are generally quite harmless unless you attempt to take their weapon or attack them.
[note=Insanity]I'm also thinking about having Cogs occasionally "go nuts" like lesser golems, so that might make an appearance later.[/note]

There are very large Cogs.  These are usually Haulers, cogs that were apparently made to carry and build things.  They aren't shaped like animals at all; they are commonly tripods or other multi-legged, blocky things.  They are usually harmless but can be dangerous in strange ways: for example, if a Hauler's last order was "bring stone here," it will do so, even if that means tearing down every last stone building in a nearby village.  Such encounters are rare but not unheard of.  Haulers will strike out in self-defense, so most villagers would rather just move elsewhere than attempt to kill something that could probably smash a bull elephant into paste.

Other Cogs are "predatory" and thus dangerous.  Most Cog animals act like real animals, so a Cog jaguar will actually try and kill you, though it won't eat you because it can't.  Nobody really knows why anyone would want to make a Cog predator that actually attacked people - the Artificers must have been a bit mad.  Like real predators, however, Cog predators are afraid of human settlements and are usually only dangerous to a lone traveler or a small group out in the Forest.

Cogs cannot be "tamed," but there exist ways to dominate them through magic.  In rare cases, a Cog may "imprint" when its orders coincide with reality.  A Cog last assigned to "protect my son" might wander the jungle aimlessly until finding a being that it, for some reason, perceives as a possible match for "my son," and then follow it everywhere and defend it to the death from any attacker.  Cogs without specific orders often just follow sources of magic, which provides their sustenance.  This can be very unnerving and a bit problematic, especially when the Cog following you is a 60 foot tall Hauler that makes the earth shake wherever you go.

[note]The Lodestar is a common symbol in the Clockwork Jungle - a heptagon with notched corners, often made of iron or lodestone.  Lodestars represent direction, purpose, eternity, and order.  They are commonly seen in jewelry, art, and religious pictographs; the world itself is often depicted as one enormous Lodestar, with the Grandmother Mountain at the center.[/note]

In the Forest, a compass is the most important thing a traveler carries.  Without it, he's in quite a pickle.  Food and water may be easy to come by, but sooner or later folks just want to get home.

Compasses of the Clockwork Jungle are not quite the compasses we know.  For one thing, they're not as compact.  A typical compass consists of a round bowl with a spike sticking up from the bottom and a slender spear point made of lodestone (but usually not sharp).  The bowl is filled with water (in a rainforest, this is usually not hard) and the pointer is floated carefully on the water; the spike touches the pointer at a little dimple corresponding to its center of gravity, keeping the pointer from sinking without hindering its movement.  If the bowl is on a level surface, the pointer will soon be pointing in the right direction.  More expensive compasses may have a glass lid on the bowl, which means you never have to refill it with water, but a level surface is still needed.  Of course, no compass is really very useable in combat or on the run.

Compasses in the Jungle, however, do not point north.  Nobody has ever heard of 'north.'  Compasses point to the one great source of lodestone, the 'mother lode' itself '" the Grandmother Mountain at the heart of the Obsidian Plains.

The Grandmother Mountain (so called because it is the supposed progenitor of all lodestones) is an immense active volcano, whose seething slopes are covered in lodestones ranging from pebbles to whole boulders.  Its power is so great that all lodestones point to it; it is the axis at the center of the world, around which all distances and directions are calculated.  All 'world maps' have the Grandmother at their center.  The most common theory is that every lodestone wishes to honor its great parent, so each turns to face her.  As a result, the lodestone is considered by many cultures to be a symbol of honor, fidelity, respect, and filial piety.

One's position is thus triangulated by taking compass readings at two places and determining the angles between them.  Trigonometry, incidentally, is one of the studies in which the sentient natives of the Clockwork Jungle are quite advanced (though most players won't want to dwell too much on this part of the campaign world :D ).  The way from one place to another is expressed in the form of a triangle, with its points being the departure point, the arrival point, and the Grandmother Mountain.

[spoiler=Examples, Calendars, and Lucky Numbers (Math!)]
Warning, math ahead!
Let's say we're going from the Iskite village of Fasikal to the Gheen village of Sipa Yik.  If we asked an Iskite 'which way to Sipa Yik,' he would say '5 days clock 4 small-marks and 82 small-marks.'

'Five days' indicates rough distance, though this can change quite a bit.
'Clock' indicates the direction you're going, either clockwise ('clock') or counterclockwise ('unclock') around the Grandmother.  If you're going straight towards the Grandmother, it's 'in,' or 'out' if you're going straight away from her.  A town that is 'two weeks out' is roughly a 14 day journey to the Grandmother (this is really close, probably only a few days from the edge of the Obsidian Plain).

The next two fractions indicate angles.  The Iskites have calculated Ï' to be 22/7 (about 3.143), which is obviously not perfect but better than '3.'  Thus, angles are represented in a number of 'sevenths,' or 'marks.'  For more precise measurements, they multiply this by seven again, to yield 154/49.  There are thus 154 'forty-ninths,' or 'small marks,' in a triangle, and 308 in a whole circle.  Thus, directions give you angle 1 at the Grandmother point, followed by angle 2 at your departure point, both expressed in half-marks.
[note]You won't get angle 3 because it's assumed you know that the angles have to add up to 154, and you can subtract it yourself.  'Asking for the third angle' is a near universal expression meaning 'Doing something really stupid' (as in He'll probably end up asking for the third angle and getting himself killed).  Sometimes it's shortened to just 'Asking thirds' (Stop asking thirds and get over here!).[/note]
For even more precision, you can use 'lesser marks' (2,156 in a circle) or even 'least marks' (15,092 in a circle).  Degrees more precise than this are too awkward to be used; most directions are given in small marks unless over a very long distance.  Because 22/7 is not exactly pi, any measurement is a tiny bit off, so some deductive work may be in order once you've reached where you're supposed to go.  Generally, however, this discrepancy is meaningless except for very long journeys.

As a result of pi being 22/7, counting systems in the Clockwork Jungle are all base 7, or 'septenary.'  What our Iskite guide would actually say (if he spoke English) would be '5 days clock 4 small marks and 145 small marks,' because 82 is rendered as 145 in septenary counting.  Pi is thus not actually 22/7, but 31/10 ('three and a seventh') in septenary.

'Holy numbers' abound in these societies, ranging from the Lesser Procession (7, 7 squared, 7 cubed'¦) to the Greater Procession (22, 22 squared, 22 cubed'¦).  Of course, these numbers are rendered differently in septenary (10 and 31, respectively), but I intend to keep using base 10 as to not thoroughly confound my readers.  Rituals are commonly done in sevens or 22s, and heptagons (seven sided polygons) are depicted everywhere.

The so-called 'True Calendar' or 'Rainbow Calendar' is also based on these numbers.  In this calendar, there are 7 'movements' (about half an hour) in each 'period' (about 3.5 hours), 7 'periods' in each day, 7 days in each week, 7 weeks in each 'season,' and 6 and 2/7 seasons in a year (corresponding to 2Ï', the number of radians in a circle).  The six seasons (and one 'partial season,' which lasts only 2/7 as long) correspond to the seven (there's that number again!) colors of the rainbow: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Purple.  The 'Red season' at the start of the new year is also the short one, lasting only for two weeks, but it is typically a time of celebration or worship in most civilized cultures.
[note]This makes more intuitive sense in septenary numbers, where there are 10 movements in a period, 10 periods in a day, and so on, until you get to 6 and 2/10 seasons in a year.[/note]
Other calendars exist, but they are usually used alongside the True Calendar, and are usually more localized and aimed towards certain ritual or commemorative dates.  Only the Iskites actually use an astronomical calendar as well '" because they clear their settlements of trees, only they see the sky on a regular basis.

It should be noted that a year of the True Calendar is only 44 weeks long, compared to 52 week Earth years, so a year in the Clockwork Jungle is only 11/13ths of the length of an Earth year.  Ages for races and so on are expressed in True Calendar years, so a 39 year old creature is really 33 in Earth years.

So what does all this mean for a DM and players?  However much you want it to mean.  Most players will only need to know that 7 is a lucky and holy number; it might also be helpful to know the calendar of 6 seasons and one 'short season.'  Your players may never know or care about most of the reasoning and mathematics behind this, and that's fine '" you don't need to know it either.  On the off chance that you or your players are actually interested in this stuff, however, it's here for the taking.

This ends our math tangent![/spoiler]

A lodestone in the Clockwork Jungle isn't like a lodestone on Earth.  In this campaign world, lodestone is like adamantine - a rare mineral with properties specific to itself.  Other materials can't be magnetized; only a lodestone can point the way.  Lodestones are dull, black rocks with a lot of metal in them (they have the same hp as iron, 30/inch, but are as brittle as rock with a hardness of 8 ).  They can be forged and purified into iron, but this makes them permanently lose their powers.  The value of lodestone depends on how rare it is in your locality, but usually lodestone is usually more valuable than precious metals by weight.

So how are lodestones obtained?  The Obsidian Plain is a dangerous place, and very uncomfortable for most creatures because of its higher gravity.  Special expeditions must be mounted '" from which some never return.  Those who do return, however, often become quite wealthy, since only a spear point's worth is needed for a compass that will last for lifetimes and will guide whole caravans from place to place.  Seasoned adventurers could easily find themselves courted as expedition members by a local ruler or village council wishing to add a few more compasses to their collection.

Because of their value, lodestones are sometimes used as jewelry or ornamental stones; they aren't very pretty looking, but a person who can afford to decorate their house with lodestones from the Grandmother's slopes must be very rich and powerful indeed.  Lodestone can't be forged or melted without losing its properties, so 'castings,' or pieces of lodestone that are too small, too irregular, or too weak to be useful compasses, often become jewelry.

Castings are also sometimes used for spell components, when called for.  Servants of lawful powers almost always procure lodestone holy symbols as soon as is practical; in some sects, the acquisition of a lodestone holy symbol represents one's transition from an initiate to a full member of the sect, and an initiate might have to procure such a symbol before being accepted as an equal.

I did skip the math part, I must admit. :P

This looks very interesting. I like the Grandmother as being the center of the world as opposed to typical North. Is the world actually round, or is it a flat disk with Grandmother at the center? If it's not, then is there a null point on the other side of the globe from Grandmother?

I just discovered the idea of the Obsidian Plain. I love it, and I'd like to hear more about it. (I do think it would make more sense for people to have normal rules off the plain and then penalties on it, but that's just a preference thing.)

You mention that servants of lawful powers use lodestone holy symbols. What about chaotic powers? Or good or evil? Or did you mean lawful as in those that serve the law, not the Law?

Finally, can lodestones be used to magnetise normal iron?

Quote from: EclipseI did skip the math part, I must admit. :P

This looks very interesting. I like the Grandmother as being the center of the world as opposed to typical North. Is the world actually round, or is it a flat disk with Grandmother at the center? If it's not, then is there a null point on the other side of the globe from Grandmother? [/quote]I just discovered the idea of the Obsidian Plain. I love it, and I'd like to hear more about it. (I do think it would make more sense for people to have normal rules off the plain and then penalties on it, but that's just a preference thing.) [/quote]You mention that servants of lawful powers use lodestone holy symbols. What about chaotic powers? Or good or evil? Or did you mean lawful as in those that serve the law, not the Law?[/quote]Finally, can lodestones be used to magnetise normal iron?
[/quote]

I left out a really important part of the Lodestone "chapter" above - Lodestones aren't really like normal Lodestones in this world.  They're more like Adamantine or Mithril, a special material with special properties.  In the Clockwork Jungle, you can't make iron into a Lodestone any more than you could make an iron sword into an adamantine one by rubbing adamantine on it (though that's a cool idea).  This is a bit different from real world physics, obviously, but it preserves the "Lodestone economy."

I'm going to update the Lodestone section with that information.

Added a new table of contents to the second post, with a list of topics to be covered in the near future.

I stand in awe.

No seriously, I was openmouthed at the directionality thing. It's very, very cool. Especially how the 'counting thirds' slang came about.

This is amazing...you're truly creating a unique world, one which is only vague in similarity to our own. The RULES are different. Congratulations--I hope your creativity continues to flow.

BTW, I don't think anyone else has mentioned it but I'd find it terribly creepy. There's something weird and alien about this world.

I should probably introduce my cast of characters.
[note=Balance]
I'm notoriously bad at balancing races; I have no illusion that these folks are in their final format.[/note]
[spoiler=Iskite]
Iskite (Humanoid, Reptilian)
Medium, Speed 30 ft.
+2 Con, -2 Cha
Low-light vision
Scaly: +1 natural armor
Camouflaged: +2 to Hide checks made in lush natural surroundings
Disciplined Mind: +2 bonus to saving throws against fear
Quick Healing: Iskites heal physical damage at double the normal rate (2 hit points per level per day).
Scent: Iskites have the Scent ability.
Alignment Tendency: Lawful

The Iskites are tall (up to 7 feet) but slender reptilian creatures.  Despite their lithe builds, they are incredibly durable creatures, possessed of tough, scaly skin and a metabolism that allows them to recover quickly from injuries.  Their scales are a pastiche of greens, ranging from dark forest to bright green, allowing them to blend in easily in jungle surroundings.

Iskite society is rigidly hierarchical.  By their very nature, Iskites seek to understand their place in any group they are in, and serve their superiors as zealously as they boss around their inferiors.  They are very sensitive to the cues of rank, and their culture is based around a bewildering array of gestures, vocal tones, and even subtle pheromones that convey actual and perceived status.  They typically expect outsiders to understand these cues and behave the way they do, and are put off when they do not '" Iskites are considered chauvinistic, arrogant, and pigheaded by those of other races.  They are, however, hard workers who judge others based on their merits and abilities.  They prize thoughtful, rational action and have a sense of loyalty to their betters and compassion towards their lessers (though this compassion is often a bit patronizing).

Their sensitivity to subtle social cues makes them very perceptive observers, and Iskites have a vast and rich artistic culture.  They are capable of appreciating the subtle gradations of color in a painting or the sublime mathematical progressions of a piece of music for hours '" but only when there's no work to be done.  To them, fine smells are also an art, and they can enjoy tastefully crafted incenses like others enjoy a melodious song.

Iskites are given rigorous mental training from birth; Iskite culture holds that the mind should be as resilient as the body.  They are trained from infancy against fear, and are indomitable foes and stalwart friends as a result.

Iskites are a largely agricultural people, who live in stone and wooden villages built on a circular pattern and surrounded by farmland kept clear of trees and shrubs through constant work.  Each village is centered around a hatchery '" children are raised communally '" and a clock tower, which Iskites use to meticulously plan their activities and give their days structure.  Iskites are fascinated by technology and actively seek to promote the efficiency of their village through its use.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Gheen]
Gheen (Humanoid)
Small, Speed 20 ft.
+2 Dex, -2 Str
Darkvision 60 ft.
Springy: +4 racial bonus to Jump checks, no maximum jumping height
Soar: A Gheen may gain a +20 special bonus to Jump checks for one round.  This ability can be used as a free action.  At the beginning of the Gheen's next turn, he becomes fatigued.  A Gheen that is exhausted, or a Gheen wearing medium or heavier armor, cannot use this ability.
Hollow Bones: +1 damage per die from bludgeoning weapons
Lucky: +1 to all saving throws
Alignment Tendency: Chaotic

Gheen are small, furred humanoids with mustelid-like features known primarily for astounding leaps.  They are not terribly strong creatures, but are incredibly light '" an adult female weighs no more than 25 pounds.  Their powerful legs and light weight allow them to jump great distances, even seeming to 'fly' for brief periods of time by expending great effort.  Gheen spend most of their time in the canopy, where they are safe from large ground predators.

Gheen society is based around the individual family den; each village is a loose commune composed of many individual families who work for their mutual benefit.  They are fast talkers and fast movers, who sometimes are a bit too fast for their own good '" they are impulsive and sometimes reckless despite their small statures, and yet somehow they show a remarkable ability to survive in the face of adversity (some would call it luck).  To a Gheen, life is about emotion and feeling '" they are capable of deeply caring relationships and monstrous hatreds alike, but are whimsical and fickle and can change their opinion of someone overnight.  Outsiders find them to be flighty, indecisive, arbitrary, and downright annoying, but Gheen are also sensitive and friendly folk who are not afraid to show their commitment to their family and friends through great bravery and altruism.

Gheen enjoy things that others find distasteful or garish '" bright and gaudy colors, overwhelming flavors, and high-pitched, screeching cries.  They enjoy jumping about and singing, and much of their day is spent doing both.  They should not be taken as lazy, however '" they are very capable survivalists who do what needs to be done and then take leisure time as they can get it.  Gheen tend to enjoy showing off, and will try to impress their fellows however possible.  This is welcomed in Gheen culture, where modesty is considered a character flaw.

Gheen live in canopy cities, made from wooden platforms high above the ground but below the open sky (where large aerial predators roam).  They are primarily insectivores, but also eat fruits and nuts.  They will say they are vegetarians, however '" they don't consider insects 'meat,' but rather 'mobile fruit.'  They consider the eating of (non-insect) animals distasteful and crude.  Their settlements tend to be a confusing jumble of platforms and roosts, defended by a complex network of traps and snares.

It should be noted that the largest empire in the known world belongs to a Gheen named Auk Yrta Su'u but known as the 'World-Queen,' a very powerful and equally malevolent sorceress who rules with an iron fist and a phalanx of magically dominated Cog Soldiers.  Unfortunately, those who have only experienced the Gheen through experiences with her and her empire tend to have very negative misconceptions about the Gheen race as a whole.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Umbril]
Umbril (Fungoid)
Medium, Speed 20 ft.
+2 Con, -2 Dex
Fungoid Traits (Ex)
Darkvision 60 ft.
Spores (Su): As a standard action, an Umbril can project spores at a creature within 15 feet (treat as a ranged touch attack).  This attack functions otherwise like a daze spell cast by a sorcerer of the Umbril's level (no save).   The Umbril may use this attack a number of times equal to their positive Constitution modifier, though no less than once per day.
Reek: Umbril smell of rotting vegetation and can be easily tracked by scent.  Their scents are detectable at twice the normal range of scent tracking, and the DC to track an Umbril by scent is decreased by 5.
Alignment Tendency: Evil
[note=Fungoid Type]
This type comprises animal-like fungal creatures.  Unlike plant creatures, they have discernable anatomies and are not mindless; thus, they lack most of the immunities of the Plant subtype.  Fungoid creatures are unaffected by humanoid-only effects (charm person, etc.) but are affected by spells and effects that affect creatures of the Plant type.

Fungoid Traits:
- Low-light vision
- Immunity to sleep effects (fungoids do not sleep)
- Immunity to disease (though presumably a disease specially made to target plant or fungal creatures could affect them)
- Acid vulnerability (50% more damage from acid)[/note]
Umbril are stocky fungal creatures with a roughly humanoid shape.  Their coloration is usually a mottled brown, which gets darker toward their legs (until their toeless feet, which are quite black).  Though they are not terribly graceful, they are remarkably resilient creatures.  Umbril have milk-white eyes shaped like long horizontal ovals, which are capable of perfect (albeit black and white) sight even in pitch black conditions.

Umbril society is complex, murky, and frequently dangerous.  Living near the ground and threatened by many jungle creatures, the Umbril do not abide the weak and seek to preserve only strong sporelines in their community.  Umbril society has no family units because there are no families; the social structure is determined by cleverness and ruthlessness.  Might makes right in the world of the Umbril, and those not strong enough to rule either obey or are eliminated.  They place a high emphasis on ambition, perseverance, self-reliance, and cleverness, but not on compassion, or generosity.  One's rewards must be earned and strived for in order for them to be truly appreciated; to the Umbril, generosity is a vice that weakens the community.  Others find the Umbril to be secretive, conniving, callous, and pessimistic, but Umbril are also practical, self-reliant, perceptive, and prudent.  They will fight tooth and nail for their survival and that of the close circle of individuals who they have come to truly trust.  Umbril are not quick to make friends, but they will die for those they truly consider their ultimate confidants and allies.

The Umbril have a spartan aesthetic, and enjoy a simple, functional object more than a superfluous work of art.  They do, however, have a certain fondness for sculpture.  The Umbril are a generally superstitious lot whose daily lives revolve around rituals and sacrifices; the holy numbers mean so much to them that every last Umbril has seven consonant sounds in their full name '" no more, no less.  Umbril civilization is known for its rich poetic tradition; Umbril poetry is characterized by the careful choice of words to convey many layers of possible meaning, as well as complex rhyme schemes that are often linked to holy numbers.  Poetry developed as a means of 'ritualizing' speech and conveying subtleties, and even the most common of Umbril sprinkles poetic lines or rhythmic phrases throughout their normal communication.  The Umbril enjoy subtlety and love riddles and word games.

The Umbril live in tunnel networks intertwined with the roots of the Forest's mighty trees.  Their diets are almost entirely rotting and fermented material, produced in fetid swamp pits filled with forest leaves, vines, corpses, and litter.  Their villages are designed with security as the foremost concern; there are several false entrances for each real one, and multiple traps and deadfalls to foil intruders.  Even stockrooms have secret escape tunnels, to the point where not even Umbril will know all the passages of their village.

Most Umbril have an irrational fear of heights, and one seldom finds them in the Gheen Khauta floaters that have proliferated in recent years.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Tahr]
Tahr (Magical Beast)
Medium, Speed 30 ft.
+2 Str, -2 Dex, -2 Int
Low-light vision
Powerful Build: Whenever a Tahr is subject to a size modifier or special size modifier for an opposed check (such as during grapple checks, bull rush attempts, and trip attempts), he is treated as one size larger if doing so is advantageous to him. A Tahr is also considered to be one size larger when determining whether a creature's special attacks based on size can affect him. A Tahr can use weapons designed for a creature one size larger without penalty.
Strong Lungs: A Tahr can holds its breath for a number of rounds equal to four times its Con score, or twice as long as a normal creature.
Alignment Tendency: Good

Tahro are intelligent beasts of impressive build.  They resemble a stocky, thick-limbed cross between a horse and a gorilla, with short horse-like fur all over their body.  Like gorillas, Tahro walk on their knuckles, but are capable of standing up and using their front legs to grasp or fight.  When walking on their four limbs, they are significantly shorter than Iskites, but when raised to full height on their back limbs they are around eight feet tall.  Their hair has a wide range of colors, ranging from a dark bluish-black to a brilliant reddish-gold, and can be solid, striped, or spotted.
[note=Chalicotherium]
The Tahro were inspired by the Chalicotherium, a prehistoric beast pictured here (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/6/60/ChalicotheriumDB1.jpg).[/note]
Tahr society is organized around extended families that live together in a single 'blood,' or clan.  Tahr social interaction is based on the concept of mutual generosity '" for the Tahro there is no buying and selling, only gift-giving and reciprocation.  Gifts are given for even the most minor of occasions; Tahro do not celebrate birthdays yearly, but rather weekly.  Gift-giving, however, is not frivolous.  Gifts are utilitarian and valuable '" food, tools, clothing, and so on.  Through mutual generosity, the blood cooperates and thrives.  Strangers will be welcomed with gifts, but are expected to give something of their own unless they are truly destitute.  Despite their hospitality to foreigners, they are rather incurious; they seldom seem to care about news from other places and are slow to adopt more advanced technology.  Outsiders find Tahro to be stubborn, ignorant, and rather dim, but they are also determined, magnanimous, loyal, and accepting of others.

Chanting is an important part of Tahr culture.  Tahro have huge, powerful lungs, and can chant loudly without taking a breath for minutes.  Tahro introduce themselves with chant, pray with chant, chant after meals, chant at dusk, chant before and after battle '" chant defines the movements of a Tahr's day.  Tahr names are very long and properly spoken only in chant; they use nicknames to interact with outsiders.  They ascribe mystical properties to chanting, and blood shamans work much of their magic through solitary or group chant.  As the Tahro are constantly on the move, they see little value in things they cannot take with them.

Tahro are semi-nomadic, traveling in a yearly cycle '" usually, a blood will have one camp for each of the seven seasons, which will be abandoned for most of the year.  This rotating schedule allows the forest to recover, as a Tahr consumes an enormous amount of vegetation (they are herbivores exclusively).  Several bloods will share a 'Red camp,' where they meet for the two weeks of the holy Red Season.  At this time, they share chants and stories, exchange mates between bloods, and (of course) exchange gifts.[/spoiler]

Why not PC Cogs?

I know with the coming of the Warforged there's a real possibility of making an acceptable construct PC race.  I'm not going to do this with the Cogs, however.  First of all, they're a template, not a distinct creature.  Secondly, they are generally not very intelligent.  The most important reason, however, is that I want them to remain relics of the distant past, elusive and mysterious creatures hinting at a forgotten eon.  I feel that Cog adventurers and villages would take away from that.  Of course, there are a few sentient Cogs (Ot, for instance) but these are very rare specimens.

Did I mention Ot is a Hauler?  It's a 40 foot tall sentient tripod that stands motionlessly contemplating life and existence, occasionally dictating words of wisdom (through telepathy, of course) to its students gathering to listen and learn beneath its massive shadow.

[ic=Ot, on Immortality]
There is nothing more perfectly suited to the study of philosophy than immortality.  True enlightenment comes only through the perspective of eternal consciousness.

- Ot, Cog philosopher[/ic]

It could be said that the races of the Jungle are coming into their own Renaissance.  For centuries, the villages of the sentients were divided by a host of sects, usually centered around  a single charismatic prophet or holy text.  There was no sense of shared religious or philosophical unity or community; faiths rose and fell again in the span of a generation.  It was against this chaos and the petty pursuit of power by holy leaders that led to the 'Recentering.'

The Recentering was not a single event, but a period of social, religious, and political upheaval.  It began, as many revolutions do, with violence.

[spoiler=The Orange Strife]
[ic=The Herald of Despair]
Who decries the orange banner?  The Saffron Moss steals the body, but the prophets steal the mind.  We have more need of the Peril than of them.

We are the new priests.  We are anointed in the blood of sentients.  We are purified by death, blessed by the spear.  We give neither forgiveness nor consolation; we bring loss, ruin, emptiness.  We know nothing, and promise nothing '" save that in our wake, when we are ashes all, a new world will be born.

-Enti-Ven Famar, The Herald of Despair, Umbril Warlord[/ic]

The Orange Strife, sometimes called the 'All-War' by the Gheen and the 'Fell Wandering' by the Umbril, was a period of unprecedented warfare and violence that touched nearly every village in the Jungle.  It began with a pact between two Umbril potentates, Enti-Ven Famar and Thals-Tadun Nata, who were in competition to become the ruler of their village, En-Shath.  A rival, however, managed to exile them both from the village.  Swearing revenge, Enti-Ven and Thals-Tadun gathered a small band of exiled warriors and bandits, predominantly (but not all) Umbril, and waged war on their home.

Like most villages, En-Shath's true ruler was a sect prophet, whose personal claim to divine knowledge and command over magic made him En-Shath's 'kingmaker.'  En-Shath was hardly unique; this era is known as the 'Age of Prophets,' as this kind of rule by revelation and mystery cult was widespread.  To go against a prophet was unthinkable, let alone to seek his death.  The two exiles, however, plotted for his demise and, taking him by surprise, cut him to pieces in his own chambers.  According to legend, the two former enemies swore that they would be eternal allies, and embark upon a 'quest of fate' to crush what they imagined to be a vast conspiracy of prophets and priests arrayed against them.

The 'Steel Brothers,' as they came to be known, launched a campaign that turned into a vast crusade.  For centuries, frustration had been building against the rule of prophets, not just in Umbril society but among most sentients.  There were many who despised the continual power-plays and revelations of new cultists, only to be overturned by another charismatic leader or 'enlightened' group.  These individuals joined the Steel Brothers in droves, and marched under a pure orange banner (orange is the unluckiest color of all, due in large part to its connection with the Saffron Moss).  Enti-Ven was in particular a dabbler in philosophy, and his was simple '" selfish, ruthless, nihilistic aggrandizement.  Enti-Ven perhaps represented the darkest elements of the Umbril psyche.

The Orange Horde swept from village to village, and its demand was always the same.
 
[ic=The Orange Ultimatum]
You who cower
Give us those who pray
Give us those who preach
Give us those who work magic
Give us those who see the future
You who cower shall rise

Your cry for mercy
Shall be your last[/ic]

The Orange Horde systematically murdered every priest, prophet, diviner, sorcerer, spellcaster, and magus they laid their hands on, regardless of creed or actions.  Those who handed over these people were spared; those who refused, or helped 'the prophets' hide, were massacred.  This period, known as the 'First Horde,' dealt a devastating blow to the very structure of societies around the Jungle.

As with any large group of angry, outcast, heavily armed individuals, however, the movement soon split.  Some were more interested in plunder than in the 'goals' of the Steel Brothers, while in other places similar movements arose with no actual connection to the original Orange Horde.  Within a few years, the situation had spun far out of the Brothers' control.  They retained a great following, but the movement had become something much greater than either of them could fathom.

The 'Second Horde' refers to this period of time after the splintering of the Orange Horde.  Instead of one great army, hundreds of smaller groups of warriors roamed everywhere, often little more than bandits and raiders with the most tenuous of connections to the Horde's original purpose.  Raiding parties with no homeland went from village to village, chasing the inhabitants into the Forest and looting and destroying everything.

The Second Horde, too, eventually wound down after almost twenty years of terror.  Many warriors had died; others had consolidate their gains and become village strongmen, or had been defeated by stronger villages that had organized effectively in their own defense.  The world took a breath again; the Orange Strife was over.[/spoiler]

The Strife radically altered the world.  Spellcasters, once quite common, were hunted nearly to extinction.  The fractious pettiness of the 'Age of Prophets' and the abyssal violence of the Orange Strife led many to conclude that a new way forward needed to be found, a way to live that denied the use of sentient beings as either pawns to be manipulated (by the Prophets) or as beasts to be slaughtered (by the Hordes).

Belief, so it was argued, had been cluttered by the Prophets, many of whom were most assuredly false '" but at the same time, there must exist a better way that rejects the empty brutality of the Orange Horde.  Many turned to those fundamental entities that had existed long before the Prophets '" the Forest, the stars, the Plain.  The Recentering bore the fruit of 'Sentinentism,' a new emphasis on the individual, on the natural over the supernatural, and the body's senses over the 'second sight' of the Prophets.

Associations
There's a lot of symbolism in the Clockwork Jungle, and much of it is associated with history, cosmology, and numerology.  Of course, these associations vary from culture to culture and even from village to village, but most would be understood regardless of location.

[table=The Seven Associations of the Seven Essences]
[tr][th]Color[/th][th]School[/th][th]Element[/th][th]Positive[/th][th]Negative[/th][th]Sense[/th][th]Animal[/th][/tr]
[tr][td]Red[/td][td]Necromancy[/td][td]Blood[/td][td]Euphoria[/td][td]Anger[/td][td]Instinct[/td][td]Elephant[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Orange[/td][td]Transmutation[/td][td]Peril*[/td][td]Curiosity[/td][td]Fear[/td][td]Smell/Taste[/td][td]Cat[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Yellow[/td][td]Abjuration[/td][td]Sun[/td][td]Pride[/td][td]Disgust[/td][td]Sight[/td][td]Bird[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Green[/td][td]Conjuration[/td][td]Forest[/td][td]Belonging**[/td][td]Suffering[/td][td]Touch[/td][td]Wyrm[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Blue[/td][td]Enchantment[/td][td]Water[/td][td]Compassion[/td][td]Envy[/td][td]Empathy[/td][td]Sloth[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Indigo[/td][td]Evocation[/td][td]Stars[/td][td]Love[/td][td]Guilt[/td][td]Time[/td][td]Tortoise[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Purple[/td][td]Illusion[/td][td]Air[/td][td]Joy[/td][td]Confusion[/td][td]Hearing[/td][td]Monkey[/td][/tr]
[/table]

*This refers to the Saffron Moss, colloquially called "The Saffron Peril" or just "The Peril."
**In Iskite society, this is usually replaced by the emotion of 'ilask,' meaning a sublime feeling of well-being resulting from being in and aware of one's place in the natural order.  Non-Iskites do not generally understand this as a distinct emotion, though most understand its meaning, as it is an important part of Iskite-derived philosophy.

Necromancy is not feared or considered to be negative; in fact, given its association with the Red Season and life forces, necromancers are highly respected and appreciated.  The creation of undead is still considered distasteful, but it does not make Necromancy itself evil, any more than killing innocents with a fireball would make Evocation itself evil.

Instead, the stigma of the 'forbidden school' goes to Divination, which is notably absent from this list.  Divination was associated with the previous era of the Prophets, and the ability to gain knowledge without the senses is believed to be even more unnatural than the creation of undead.  Creating a zombie would disgust, whereas casting augury would horrify.  Diviners do not usually reveal themselves in public, preferring to pretend that they study another school.

Okay, I like the Iskite simply because they are reptilian. By the term hatchery, I'm assuming these guys lay eggs. I'm a bit put off by the seeming double standard of highly cultured and logically trained people with the chauvinisticism (surely they've figured out that not everyone can smell pheremones?!).

The Gheen... Squirrel-people? And your largest empire is a race of squirrels. Fitting, I guess, since the world is a giant forest. One suggestion; I would remove the luck bonus and the darkvision, and give them a climb speed.

The Umbril I like, and can't seem to find any specific critique except for this; a fungus, in the real-world sense, reproduces via spore; therefore, the spore attack would be like shooting millions of potential children at someone. Secondly, fungi mostly reproduce asexually. Not that you have to do anything with that, just throwing it out there.

The Tahr I don't like physically. they strike me more as resembling beasts than humanoid creatures, and I have a hard time picturing them. Also, I feel that the Gheen's singing overshadows the chanting, and looking through them again, all art forms seem to be oral. Unless there is a specific reason for this, I'd suggest shifting one of them to a visual or performance art instead.

I understand your reasoning for Cogs as a Non-character, and agree. I also must say I love Cog to death.

I like your Orange Strife story, but find the entire concept difficult to grasp; above you say that village-to-village contact is difficult, and maintaining empires even moreso, but then go on to describe a worldwide crusade and then a unified shift to an age of reason. Which one is correct, an isolated place where villages can not see outsiders for months at a time, or places where worldwide conquests are not just feasible, but have happened?

I like the table of associations, but disagree on the Iskite ilask, I would quantify that as a feeling of belonging, which, at least for me, is a very distinct feeling. I can't wait to hear what the Saffron Peril is.

I like how you changed up the normal 'evil' school. Considering necromancy's association with life, you might want to consider moving the healing spells over to that school.  

Allright, I gotta say I love Ot, both the idea behind him, and the character himself (it self?)

Somethnig I'm wondering though, is if the Cogs are still produced anywhere? if not, then I would imagien that after years of harvesting and hunting them, they'll be hunted to extension eventually, even the bigger ones, when the amounth of cogs are so few that the gain would be worth the risk.   Offcourse, there might be so many cogs that it aren't an issue or a long time, which could make it an interesting plot to explore when it does happen. "what does the villages do, when there no longer are cogs to hunt, to replace the natural lost and detoriation of materials?

Quote from: Stargate525Okay, I like the Iskite simply because they are reptilian. By the term hatchery, I'm assuming these guys lay eggs. I'm a bit put off by the seeming double standard of highly cultured and logically trained people with the chauvinisticism (surely they've figured out that not everyone can smell pheremones?!).

The Gheen... Squirrel-people? And your largest empire is a race of squirrels. Fitting, I guess, since the world is a giant forest. One suggestion; I would remove the luck bonus and the darkvision, and give them a climb speed.[/quote]The Umbril I like, and can't seem to find any specific critique except for this; a fungus, in the real-world sense, reproduces via spore; therefore, the spore attack would be like shooting millions of potential children at someone. Secondly, fungi mostly reproduce asexually. Not that you have to do anything with that, just throwing it out there.[/quote]The Tahr I don't like physically. they strike me more as resembling beasts than humanoid creatures, and I have a hard time picturing them. Also, I feel that the Gheen's singing overshadows the chanting, and looking through them again, all art forms seem to be oral. Unless there is a specific reason for this, I'd suggest shifting one of them to a visual or performance art instead.[/quote]I like your Orange Strife story, but find the entire concept difficult to grasp; above you say that village-to-village contact is difficult, and maintaining empires even moreso, but then go on to describe a worldwide crusade and then a unified shift to an age of reason. Which one is correct, an isolated place where villages can not see outsiders for months at a time, or places where worldwide conquests are not just feasible, but have happened?[/quote]Khauta[/i] referred to in the Umbril entry).

So really isolated, or really in contact?  I'm not exactly sure.

QuoteI like the table of associations, but disagree on the Iskite ilask, I would quantify that as a feeling of belonging, which, at least for me, is a very distinct feeling. I can't wait to hear what the Saffron Peril is.

want[/i] to be in a higher caste.  I think you're right, though, that "belonging" is a better generic.

QuoteI like how you changed up the normal 'evil' school. Considering necromancy's association with life, you might want to consider moving the healing spells over to that school.  

That's a great idea!

QuoteSomethnig I'm wondering though, is if the Cogs are still produced anywhere? if not, then I would imagien that after years of harvesting and hunting them, they'll be hunted to extension eventually, even the bigger ones, when the amounth of cogs are so few that the gain would be worth the risk.   Offcourse, there might be so many cogs that it aren't an issue or a long time, which could make it an interesting plot to explore when it does happen. "what does the villages do, when there no longer are cogs to hunt, to replace the natural lost and detoriation of materials?

The scale of the ruins is massive - there is basically no place, save the Plain, without ruins nearby.  Imagine a forest larger than the Amazon which was once occupied with the population density of Industrial age Britain (or some similar country).  There are billions of Cogs, and the total population of the four races is a few million.  The population of Cogs is decreasing, but new dormant Cogs are accidentally activated all the time, and Cog metal has been increasingly replaced with mined and smelted metal as metalworking becomes more advanced and more common.  Cog steel is also very good quality, and it tends to be passed on from generation to generation; it doesn't rust and takes a long time to lose an edge.

Some areas have depleted the usable Cogs nearby, and have to trade metal in distant village markets.  It's unlikely that there will be a worldwide Cog metal shortage, however, for a long time.  Of course, I haven't ruled out the possibility that somewhere there are still Cogs being made (maybe Cogs making other Cogs!) but that hasn't been implemented yet.

[ic=Excerpt, Torment of the Stars]The Second flame had a glow that was nearly yellow and nearly orange, and a fierce intensity that caused me to cry aloud in fear.  I then saw within its heart fruit and water lying upon rich silks and gemstones, and thought that surely any flame which could not boil water nor burn silk must be an illusion.  I reached out to take these gifts, for I could not remember the last time I had partaken in food or drink, but some better judgment stayed my hand '" and before my eyes, the water turned black and putrid, the fruit withered, the silks frayed and the gemstones turned to ash.  I cried out to the stars for protection, but they mocked me cruelly and cursed my feeble scales.

Yet when I looked upon the corrupted fruit and water again and turned away in revulsion, the flame immediately sputtered and died: For I was its fuel, and the Second flame is Desire.
- Kitzat, Iskite Prophet[/ic]
[ic=The Herald of Despair on the Saffron Moss]Agony has a color.
- Enti-Ven Famar, Umbril Warlord[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/mossborder.jpg)


The Creeping Fear, the Tireless Misery, the Shroud of Corruption, the Saffron Moss.  There is nothing else in the Clockwork Jungle that inspires so much terror that the very color associated with it is nearly anathema.  When the Steel Brothers marched for ruin, their zealots wore saffron sashes for the sole purpose of putting fear in the hearts of their enemies.  The Saffron Moss is known by many names, but its foul color crosses all cultural and linguistic barriers.  For its association with the moss, orange is considered the unluckiest of colors, and there are still remote villages in which children born in the Orange Season are abandoned to the Forest for fear that they will bring misfortune upon the community.
[note=The Peril]Though it has many names, the most common colloquial name is "The Saffron Peril," or simply "The Peril."  Some feel that to call it "The Saffron Moss" is unlucky, and prefer variant names for that reason.[/note]
The Saffron Moss is, physically, a moss.  It is always a brilliant yellow-tinted orange, and grows like a thick, hairy carpet on anything its spores can get into.  When simply growing on an inanimate surface, it is relatively harmless.  The moss, however, has the ability to corrupt and control any living thing it grows upon.  Even the greatest and tallest trees turn sickly and twisted when the moss digs into their bark.  The moss itself expands only slowly, but when it corrupts a plant, this plant's seeds and fruit become carriers of thousands '" perhaps millions '" of tiny spores.  A fruit corrupted by the moss may look fine on the outside, but inside the flesh is putrefied and suffused with vile spores.  It takes only a single careless bite for an animal to be infested.

An animal so afflicted will experience horrid pain as the moss grows within flesh.  Its hair will fall out and its skin will start turning pale and yellowed.  In several days, its skin will begin sprouting moss.  This is more than most creatures can bear, and typically the victim is driven into agonizing madness as the moss corrupts even the mind.  Wracked by pain and insanity, the creature will inevitably die or be put out of its misery by another '" and then the moss can truly work its evil.
[note=Mechanics]The Saffron Moss acts essentially like a disease that takes hold through ingestion.  Mere contact is not enough unless a creature literally lies still for days in a patch of moss, allowing the moss to grow over it.  The DC for infection is 20 and the incubation period is 1d4 days.  After incubation and each day thereafter that the creature fails a save, the creature takes 1d4 points of temporary Wisdom damage and 1d4 points of temporary Dexterity damage.  If a creature's Wisdom would ever reach 0 in this way, it remains at 1 but the victim becomes insane instead (no saving throw).  The insanity cannot be cured, even magically, until the disease itself is cured.  Like mummy rot, successful saves do not allow a victim to recover from the disease (though they prevent damage for the day).  Only magical healing is ultimately effective.  A cure disease spell will remove the disease, but the insanity will remain until magically cured as well.  A creature killed while infested will remain infested if brought back from the dead, though its ability scores will be 'reset' upon resurrection.

A gentle repose spell will prevent a corpse from being infested for as long as the spell lasts.  The moss is also unable to infest anything coated with oil of timelessness.[/note]
The moss has the power to animate the dead.  An infested creature that has died, or even a corpse that the moss has grown over, rises in a foul imitation of life and does the bidding of the moss after 1d10 hours.  The bidding of the moss is, quite simply, the acquisition of more bodies to inhabit.  'Abominations,' as they are usually called, stalk the jungles in search of creatures to slay, and then deliver the bodies back to their master.  If killed, they rise again after 1d10 hours, unless dismembered or otherwise physically destroyed.

All this would be bad enough '" but the moss is also one single being.  It has been observed that, nearly instantaneously after an infestation of Saffron Moss is attacked, Abominations miles away may react accordingly.  It is a unitary entity with a unitary mind, and its mind is bent only on its own expansion.  The moss is less a villain than a plague or cancer, constantly expanding at the expense of other living things, and yet it shows remarkable intelligence.  An outcropping of the moss may hide in a forgotten ruin or an overlooked ravine, slowly gathering its servants until it attacks and overwhelms a neighboring village without warning.  Abominations have been seen carrying spore fruit for days and days before depositing them in well-hidden locations near vulnerable villages and outposts.  Other times, an Abomination will put a corrupted fruit at the foot of an uncorrupted tree of the same type, hoping that some unwary creature will be deceived.  Abominations themselves are mindless, but they are animated by a sinister intelligence that is able to act through them, making them dangerous adversaries.  The Moss is unable to exert this control though an antimagic field, however, and Abominations within such a field become motionless and unresponsive (though they will continue their work as soon as the field ends or they are removed from it).

The moss's will is so strong that it can influence the minds of others.  The moss possesses a powerful psychic presence; it can use clairaudience/clairvoyance, detect thoughts, and detect magic at will, and can implant a telepathic suggestion (Will DC 17) on any creature within 10 feet of a body of Saffron Moss (Abominations do not count for this).  The Peril can use this power on a specific being only once per day at maximum, but the ability is otherwise at will.  The Moss's spells are all cast as if by a 20th level Sorcerer.
[note=Psionics]The DM should feel free to make these powers psionic if those rules are in use.  I have no familiarity with Psionics, and so they won't be making an appearance in the Clockwork Jungle, but there's certainly no reason they can't be added.  The Moss would probably have limitless PSPs, or very near limitless, as it acts constantly and simultaneously over thousands of miles of infested territory.[/note]
Though immune to most diseases, Umbril are affected by infestation.  They gain a +4 saving throw bonus on checks to avoid infestation or resist damage from the disease.

The Moss itself is not any more difficult to destroy than normal moss.  It is quite moist, so fire alone is generally ineffective, but Fire Oil (Alchemist's Fire) is very useful in destroying it, as is magical fire and cold.  Communities without magical or alchemical resources have difficulty fighting an infestation, and usually flee the area.

Cogs are not living, but they can be dominated by the Moss.  Cogs have an aversion to the Saffron Moss and will not approach it willingly, but the Peril will grow on dormant Cogs it encounters.  It takes one week for a Cog with the Peril on it to fall under its control.  Once it is dominated, the Cog functions as any other Abomination; its ancient orders are overruled in favor of the Peril's will.  Unlike normal abominations, Cogs will not re-animate if destroyed.  The Peril seems to know this, and Cog Abominations will retreat if faced with certain destruction '" the Saffron Moss would usually rather lose a battle than lose a Cog.

Only Soldier Cogs will enter an area of Moss willingly, and then only if their orders require it for some reason '" they will avoid it at all other times.  They will destroy infested Cogs that they find; this is the only known instance when a Cog will naturally attack another Cog.  Soldier Cogs in general seem to act as kind of a Cog police force, eliminating Cogs that have fallen under unnatural influences (usually, magic domination or the Peril).

Other non-living creatures, such as corporeal undead, can likewise have Moss growing on them '" but will not be infested.  Oddly, once a corporeal undead creature with Moss on it is slain and reverts to being just a corpse, it will be infested shortly, making 'zombification' an unorthodox but valid way to protect a corpse from falling under the influence of the Peril.  The Saffron Moss seemingly knows this and will attack undead it thinks it can destroy.  Creatures that cannot be infested are generally ignored unless they pose a threat or strike the Moss as convenient transportation vectors.

There are entire regions given over to the Peril.  The largest patch is called, appropriately, the 'Mosswaste.'  Travelers avoid this place, though several linked Umbril villages known as the Netai Confederation occupy an island in the middle of a sea surrounded by the waste.  The only real contact with the Confederation is by the air, and Khauta canopy skiffs occasionally make voyages there.  The Netai Umbril are perhaps the only ones of their kind who have no particular problem with heights.

Moats are effective at stopping the Moss's spread, and Abominations will not wade into a substantial body of water.  The Obsidian Plain does not bar the spread of the Peril, though it does not last long there either, as lava flows are very effective at removing infestations.

Where did the Peril come from? Nobody knows for certain.  Some say that it was the Peril which brought down the ancient civilization now swallowed by the Jungle, but this seems unlikely, or else the world would be Moss instead of Jungle.  Most ruins are not infested.  Others say the Peril was created by a mad wizard or shaman, or perhaps it was simply constituted from something intangible, like hatred or greed.  Theories about its origin are much like theories about the downfall of the ancients '" many, and impossible to confirm.

Holy hell Mith, this stuff is scary as all getup. Part virus, part moss, part frikkin zombiefication center... it's the biological equivalent of the borg.

I love it.

Although I'm curious as to what's keeping this thing from taking over right now. You've said that it covers many square miles, and can act in unified movements across all of that, so what's the magic bullet that's keeping it from simply eating the world?

The Peril is both very powerful and very vulnerable.  Without its Abominations, it has absolutely no defense except its suggestion ability, which only has a range of 10 feet and is fairly limited in its effect.  A group of peasants with some Fire Oil, or even regular lamp oil, can lay waste to a large area of Moss assuming no Abominations are around.  Thus, the Peril can only safely expand where it has the servants to do so; it has to plan its expansions carefully, as it never has enough Abominations to expand as much as it would like.

A single mid-level party could scour a large area if properly equipped, and in practice they often do, either as a civic service or under contract.  The Moss is also the only thing that can bring many villages together in mutual cooperation, because everyone recognizes it as the greater evil.

The Moss is also opposed by creatures.  Canopy Wyrms (flying dragons) and Crash Wyrms (non-flying dragons) hate the Moss regardless of their own alignment, and breath weapons are very good at clearing away the Peril.

So basically, the Moss grows quickly, but it is also opposed by powerful enemies.  It would be almost impossible to exterminate it altogether and some areas (like the Mosswaste) have been abandoned to it, but barring some drastic shift in power it isn't likely to end the world.  On the whole, however, it tends to gain more ground than it loses, and may pose a greater threat to future generations.

By the way, I don't know if we're still doing review badges or not, but anyone who has reviewed or given feedback is free to take a badge: (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_files/public/cjungle.gif) (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646)

[spoiler=Linking Badge Code][url=http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646][img]http://www.thecbg.org/e107_files/public/cjungle.gif[/img][/url][/spoiler]

Taken and worn with pride.

By the by, here's one that links back to the setting; seems a bit more useful that way. Hit quote to retrieve it.

(http://www.thecbg.org/e107_files/public/cjungle.gif) (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?39646)

Good idea.  I'll update that.

Something else I realized about containing the Moss - undead are the perfect Moss-fighters, because they can't be infested until destroyed, and they are immune to the Peril's psionics.  I imagine that, even though undead creation is frowned upon, everyone considers the Moss worse - so village Necromancers might occasionally create armies of undead specifically for Moss-fighting, and then "disband" them once the local Peril had been eliminated or cut back enough.

[ic=Exerpt, Precepts of Aerial War]Maxims of Attraction [gravity]:
1: Attraction is the friend of the Flyer.
2: Attraction is the enemy of the Flyer.
3: The Master Flyer is he who reads the first two maxims and sees no contradiction.
- Erta-Tav Nadrul, Umbril Flyer[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/khautaborder.jpg)


The closest way from point A to point B is a straight line.  Unfortunately, in a dense jungle, traveling in a straight line is impossible, even with a lodestone to point you in the right direction.  With trees all around and the canopy extending far above, even figuring out where you are can be a terrible challenge '" you could well be at the foot of a massive mountain range and never know it until you started climbing.  Above the tallest trees, where the Canopy Wyrms reign, is the ultimate vantage point: the open sky, with its unobscured view of the Forest for miles and miles.  With all the benefits offered by flight, it is probably no wonder that the civilized species of the Clockwork Jungle pursued flight so successfully.  The brave explorers, flyers, scouts, and adventurers who make the skies their second home are the Dendronauts, those who skip over the treetops without any jungle to bar their way.  And the marvelous invention with which they accomplish this feat?  None other than the venerable and much-praised khauta, which we know better as a hot air balloon.
[note=Purpose]The khauta is a key part of the "verticality" principle I mentioned as one of the campaign world's main themes.  It's a fairly low-tech way to get characters in the air, and not a technological stretch - as Julian Nott, master ballooner (http://www.nott.com/Pages/projects.php), once noted, "With just a loom and fire" anybody can fly.  It becomes even more plausible here when you remember that the Clockwork Jungle has only half Earth's gravity.[/note]
The khauta is named for Yik Buri Khaut, a Gheen weaver who was inspired by the way some spiders drift from tree to tree on free-floating silk strands caught by the wind.  She began to experiment with woven silk herself, trying all manner of ways to fly like the spiders did.  Her career of invention reached a particularly low point when she jumped off a tree platform and fell more than a hundred feet to the forest floor below; her long strip of silk cloth utterly failed to stop her descent.

Nevertheless, Buri Khaut survived and began to search for other ways she could take to the sky.  Eventually, she found a way '" a tightly woven silken bag, when filled with hot smoke, floated upwards.  She designed bigger and stronger balloons until she had woven one powerful enough to lift herself, in a sling made of woven leaves, above the canopy.  History was made, and though Buri Khaut was devoured by a Canopy Wyrm on her balloon's maiden voyage, her invention revolutionized travel in the Clockwork Jungle.

The most basic kind of khauta is called a 'canopy skiff.'  Canopy skiffs are unpowered, short-range balloons consisting of a single large balloon and a lightweight basket that carries a handful of individuals.  The balloon is filled by smoke from a bonfire on the ground, launched, and then flown until the heat of the smoke runs low and the balloon is forced to land.  Long distances can be covered step by step with canopy skiffs, but the passengers must stop frequently to refill the balloon, a time consuming process.  The weight limit of a canopy skiff is also limited, so on long voyages foraging is needed to supply the passengers.  Despite its inherent limitations, these simple khautas are perfect for all manner of short-range travel and local scouting.

Khautas that heat their own air are called 'smokeships.'  These vessels are usually utilized to carry small cargo loads or a few people over long distances, since they only need to land for more fuel, not to re-inflate the entire balloon.  The most abundant fuel is charcoal.  Charcoal is rather heavy, however, given its fuel output, which limits the weight-bearing capacity of the ship.  Distilled alcohol is far less common but generally a better fuel.  Unlike charcoal, however, highly refined alcohol is not always readily available (Iskite clove rum will not fly a balloon).  Some smokeships utilize multiple balloons in a single ship.

When travelling over the Obsidian Plain, lava vents, thermal springs, and sulfurous pits are sometimes exploited for 'free' hot air.  The Plain, however, has very few places where food or fresh water can be found.  As a result, one of the most important khauta routes is the 'Black Circle,' which skirts the edge of the Obsidian Plain.  Flyers on this route can use hot air sources just beyond the Plain's edge to refill their canopy skiffs, and dip into the nearby forested areas for needed supplies.

A small handful of vessels use arcane means to generate lift.  The most notable is the Starnought, built by a rather eccentric Umbril magus named Tenro-Il.  It is kept aloft at all times by a three balloons with some kind of captive 'smoke demons' (at least, that is what Tenro-Il calls them; nobody else has ever seen them).  Suspended below is a an entire ship hull, in which the magus, his apprentices, servants, and guests live.  It has not touched the ground in years.

A khauta that is permanently tethered to the ground is called a 'hulk.'  They are used as stationary observation posts or even aerial docks.

The khauta's spider silk can be dyed for a variety of purposes.  Canopy skiffs are often dyed in camouflage greens in an attempt to make them invisible to Canopy Wyrms, while others are dyed with a village's colors or whatever the flyers feel like.  Regular flyers on the Black Circle dye black stripes on their balloons to indicate how many times they've made the circuit, while the Netai Smokefleet dyes their balloons a fearsome and unmistakable orange color so their enemies know who they're dealing with.

Steering a khauta is the most difficult part of its operation.  The winds above the canopy are powerful, and without any steering system every craft will be at the mercy of the skies.  Ordinary sails don't do much, because the winds relative to the khauta are not very strong '" the khauta moves with the wind and is not anchored to a surface like a boat is.  Sails can only function by using wind shear; that is, localized differences in wind speed.  A smokeship with a sail extending significantly above or below the craft can 'tap into' layers of wind moving in different directions.  Such arrangements take great skill to build and operate, however, because a craft could easily be ripped apart by massive torque if its sail hit an unexpectedly fast or turbulent area of wind.

'Tetherships' are sometimes used to get around this problem.  A Tethership is just two khautas connected by a long rope.  The 'main' balloon carries most of the cargo and passengers, while the 'tack' balloon has a minimal crew.  The tack balloon is designed to pull much more wind than the main balloon, and has sails to extend its surface area.  The Tethership exploits wind shear by having its components in two different shear zones.  Only very skilled crews can properly operate a Tethership, since near-perfect communication and coordination is required to prevent a horrific accident.  Unexpected shear zones can still wreck these craft.  The best example of this was the Battle of Seven Fortunate Winds during the 3rd Netai War (a conflict fought almost exclusively in the air), when the Umbril of the Netai Confederation Smokefleet drove the Iskite forces of the Right Orientation Alliance 2nd Canopy Scout Troop toward the side of a mountain, where a strong lee current annihilated the majority of the Alliance fleet.

As an alternative, one or more large kites are sometimes used instead of a tack balloon.  These are more difficult to control, but can be more effective in the hands of a skilled kite flyer.

Canopy skiff pilots and crews without the experience to use sails or tetherships must simply wait for a favorable wind.  The only other option is the use of 'claws,' long poles or ropes with metal hooks on the end.  These are used on craft that stick close to the canopy, so the crew can use the claws to push or pull their way along the treetops.  This is called 'clawing out,' and it only works when the wind is fairly mild.  Canopy skiffs can also travel within the canopy itself by clawing out; this works well in some areas, but especially dense canopies will have no room for canopy skiffs to glide around.

Finally, some larger smokeships use hand-powered 'wind screws' (basically propellers) to move the ship.  Only the largest of ships can carry the necessary manpower to move a craft with wind screws in high winds, but in low-wind conditions nearly any craft can move slowly with wind screws (though even then probably not directly against the wind).

Though the Gheen were the first to take to the skies, they do not hold a monopoly on that any more.  The Iskites were quick to adopt the new technology, and had some advantages of their own.  Chiefly, the Iskites had been observing the stars far longer than the Gheen owing to their open-air settlements, and were able to use the stars to navigate over long distances even without a lodestone compass.  'Flyer' is a recognized profession among the Iskites, who train pilots from a young age and school them well in mathematics and the mechanics of flight.  Gheen flyers are usually less technically skilled but more experienced, relying on a flyer's intuition instead of detailed measurements.

Umbril and Tahro do not fly as often.  In the case of the Tahro, their semi-nomadic nature makes it difficult for them to build and maintain a standing fleet.  They are generally content to use Iskite or Gheen khautas to go places, should that become necessary.  Umbril suffer from a near-universal racial fear of heights, and like to stay as far away from khauta as possible.  There are exceptions to this, particularly the Umbril of the Netai Confederation, who live on an assortment of islands on an inland sea and have mastered that particular fear.  Netai flyers are trained on a variation of the Iskite model and are just as proficient as their Gheen or Iskite counterparts, and perhaps the most renowned combat flyers in the Jungle.

There are a few examples of "permanent" Khauta nomads, usually Gheen, who (for whatever reason) have left their villages and live much of their lives in the air.  Some end up plying the Black Circle or other major routes, while some find employment as couriers or surveyors.  Still others stay far away from the few motes of civilization, living adventurous and lonely lives in the deep jungle, or make their homes in untouched ruins.  There is a legend among some Iskite villages of a massive airship where Iskite exiles congregate, or perhaps a ruin complex someplace deep in the Forest where only khautas can reach.  The Netai Umbril sometimes speak of a legendary "Perilous Craft," a great airship crewed entirely by Abominations that preys upon unwary flyers, or those who go down in the Mosswaste.  Most rumors about mysterious giant airships are not true, but as long as a few real examples exist (like the Starnought), imaginative beings will wonder what else might ply the skies in foreign lands.

Flying may be fast, but it is also extremely dangerous.  Besides unexpected wind shear, which has already been mentioned, a flyer must deal with rain (this is a rainforest world, if you recall), lightning storms, and the bane of every flyer, Canopy Wyrms.  Storm Wyrms enjoy the taste of mammal flesh and can breathe lightning, and no creature is more hated by the Gheen.  Cloud and Thermal Wyrms are less outright hostile, but will sometimes destroy a khauta just for fun.  Just as often, however, they will simply circle around it or knock it around a bit until their curiosity is sated, and on at least one occasion a Thermal Wyrm has used its searing hot breath to keep a khauta afloat that was about to crash.  They are mercurial creatures whose behavior is difficult to predict, and most flyers simply try to stay away from them, usually by ducking into the relative safety of the canopy if their approach is detected.

Aerial combat also occurs between khautas.  The Netai Wars were famous for this, because khautas are the only "safe" means of travel to and from the Netai Isles.  Balloons are surprisingly hardy; tighly woven spider silk is resistant to projectiles, and a hole from an arrow does not let out air fast enough to be an immediate concern.  Unfortunately, spider silk is also very flammable, and a balloon that is set aflame quickly becomes a towering inferno.  The 2nd Netai War (also known as the War of Five Storms) saw the introduction of various alchemical preparations that could protect a balloon from fire, at the cost of some lifting power (as the solution had to be applied to the entire balloon, which made it heavier).  Even non-fireproofed balloons can resist fire arrows as long as they meet the enemy when it rains, which it does almost constantly during the wet season.
[note=Combat]It should be remembered that these weapons and tactics were designed for the Netai Wars and are unknown outside the greater Netai region.  In most places in the Jungle, the largest khauta vs. khauta battles are between two scout skiffs that happen to run into each other.  Outside the Netai Wars, massed khauta combat has been extremely rare.[/note]
Various other methods of destroying enemy khautas were experimented with, but the only ones that endured through the next few Netai Wars were the catch-claw, an extra-long and very sharp steering claw modified to rip at the ropes connecting a khauta's balloon to its gondola (which crews attempt to fend off with forked staves); the khauta bomb, a cask of an Umbril alchemical oil that burns intensely in contact with water (dropped from above, the oil burns so hot that it totally ignores the alchemical fireproofing); and talon-throwers, lightweight ballistae 2-3 times the size of a crossbow used to shoot at a khauta's crew or fire harpoons into a craft's balloon to keep it from escaping.

Nice. Very nice. Unfortunately, that's all I can think of to say at the moment... maybe I'll think of something more constructive later.

Okay, I've come up with a question. One thing that I'm finding hard to imagine, and so I want definitely answered. What kind of adventures do you see Our Heroes having in this setting?

Quote from: KindlingOkay, I've come up with a question. One thing that I'm finding hard to imagine, and so I want definitely answered. What kind of adventures do you see Our Heroes having in this setting?

I don't think the general answer to this is too different than it would be for any other campaign world, so I'll try to answer it specifically.

This campaign world is the latest in a long personal tradition of mine, that of exploratory worlds.  The ruins that permeate the world are mostly unexplored, providing ample opportunities for dungeon-builders.  Characters could be motivated to discover the secrets of the Ancients, whether that means seeking ancient artifacts and mechanisms, uncovering ancient history, or simply pursuing a love of discovery.

The world also exists in a formative period of history, providing numerous opportunities for political and diplomatic adventures.  The "core area" that I will be focusing on for starting adventures is the Greater Netai/Mosswaste region, which has recovered from the 5th Netai War and is teetering on the edge of another.  Intrigue dominates, not only between the Confederation and the sizable coalition arrayed against it, but within both factions as well.  Diplomats, spies, assassins, and messengers can find employment easily.  Characters may even have their own political pretensions.  Should a DM bring about the 6th Netai War, there are ample opportunities for aventures de guerre.  War in TCJ is especially character-oriented, because "armies" (and "flying navies") of the Clockwork Jungle are small corps of talented and experienced mercenaries or professionals, much like oversized adventuring parties.  A group of characters could find themselves taking a much more central role in the conflict than they would in a campaign where tens of thousands fight tens of thousands and PCs are reduced to running niche errands behind the scenes.

Encircling much of this region is the Mosswaste, where the greatest enemy of life ever known rules unchallenged.  Will the Saffron Moss strike hardest when its enemies are at each others' throats?  Will the threat it poses force erstwhile enemies to grudgingly join forces?  At the very least it provides an especially alien and dangerous environment to explore, and at most an existential threat to all the civilized peoples of the region.

Further abroad, characters could be contracted to seek valuable Lodestone in the distant wastes of the Obsidian Plain, escort caravans through the jungle, discover why a certain Cog has been attacking a village or oppose the machinations of the megalomaniacal World-Queen (whose expansions do not yet threaten the Greater Netai/Mosswaste, but she still makes a good long-term villain).

In truth I don't have a lot of specifics yet, because I've worked mostly on the general rules and environments of the world.  In terms of adventures, however, I don't think this world is any different from any other one - the gravity may be lower, the terrain may be lusher, and the races may be less human-like, but it's not that different in terms of what there is to do or accomplish.

How does dendronautics affect daily life?
Obviously it is not totally safe or common, but within the zone of a specific group, does it speed communications?  Commerce?  Is it the method of choice for trading 'upstream'?  How much would it cost to trasnport a person or people by this methiod?  Is this done?  how many people at once can they carry?  Are their regular routes?

BTW, I like the Starnought. I mean, you had to do it, but I was still glad to see it.  

Oh, this is interesting, I missed it the first time.

I have some questions about gravity. What does "weigh half as much" mean when talking about characters native to this setting? Though they'd be used to moving around in the lower gravity, and thus wouldn't be awkward, they'd likely not be as strong, either.

This means that PCs from a normal-g (1.0g, to us) environment could likely be seen as a bit "brutish" by local standards, as they would be both extremely strong and extremely ungainly and awkward in their movements. As they adapted to the enviroment, they would gradually become accustomed to the gravity, but unless they took special care, they'd probably lose a good bit of strength as well.

Astronauts are always running on treadmills and the like in order to keep up their strength in the zero-g environment, as simply fighting against gravity gives our muscles a fairly decent workout. With half gravity, the effects wouldn't be as dramatic, but would still be a factor. :)

Quote from: LordVreegHow does dendronautics affect daily life?

are[/i] quite common.  Smokeships and the larger vessels are the rarer ones, only because they require substantially more skill to operate safely and effectively.  A Tethership requires a top-notch crew, but anyone can be a mediocre skiff pilot with some basic training.

Magical communication, which tied the world together in the Age of Prophets, is no longer common.  As a result, khautas have become critically important for the delivery of news and information.  They cannot carry bulk loads of heavy goods like a ship or a train of pack animals, but khautas can carry reams of pamphlets, letters, messages, and some books (the printing press exists in this world and is in fairly widespread use, though perhaps not exactly common).  For many villages, dendronautics means the difference between being part of a larger regional community and total isolation.

Rivers are not commonly used for trade and transport because they are often choked with mangrove trees or otherwise rendered impassable, and are also frequented by the Forest's most dangerous creatures.  They are also not reliable, as rivers (especially smaller ones) change their course frequently as the Forest dams them with organic litter or fallen trees.

Commerce can only be conducted by khauta when the commodity is fairly high value, as they can't carry bulk freight.  The primary method of conveying freight is still by heavily armed jungle caravans using draft animals.  A few commodities are valuable and light enough to be carried by khauta, like precious feathers, bark cloth, rare spices, or spider silk.  Khauta trade is much riskier than caravan trade, so khauta merchants tend to be either those who are willing to accept very high risks for very high profits, or those who are too poor to buy into a jungle caravan (as caravan merchants must have enough up-front capital to pay for their share of the draft animals, soldiers, supplies, ammunition, and so on).

As to how many people they can carry, I'm not exactly sure; I'd like to correlate those values with real-world examples of the carrying capacity of actual hot air balloons, but I just don't know that much about ballooning.  Right now I'd say a typical canopy skiff can carry 3-5 people with fairly minimal equipment (like a standard-sized adventuring party with light loads).  The larger the balloon, the more it can carry, but the more fuel it requires as well.  Consequently, smokeships with longer ranges carry fewer people than short range vessels.

There are regular routes, usually not because of trade concerns but because of predominant air currents.  Flying is so fast, however, that Flyers can go far out of their way to catch a favorable current and still get to their destination weeks before a ground party would.  Since most khautas are canopy skiffs that can't do much in the way of flying against the wind, most airborne traffic relies on well-established currents.

QuoteI have some questions about gravity. What does "weigh half as much" mean when talking about characters native to this setting?

I suppose it doesn't mean much when considering character strength.  It does mean that (for instance) balloons can lift more, but you're correct that natives might well be commensurately weaker.

Right now I haven't yet considered extra-planar connections, but you're right about the results if a TCJ creature were to find themselves on our world or vice-versa.  Denizens of the forest would be weak compared to creatures from other planes, and the few creatures that live on the Obsidian Plain (the "normal" gravity area) are universally stocky, short, and strong compared to the creatures of the Forest.

It should be noted that the gravity section refers to bonuses from 3rd ed D&D.  With the release of 4th ed and my increasing dissatisfaction with D&D generally, I can't vouch for how stable that information will be.  Right now I'm going pretty much fluff-only until I come to some kind of conclusion about what mechanical system would be best for this world.

[ic=Excerpt, 'The Voyage into Darkness']The name 'Obsidian Plain' sounds rather grim.  Only those who have been there know it is an abominable euphemism.  Those who have fled lava flows, choked on brimstone fumes, and nearly experienced simultaneous drowning and scalding in the Great Mud Sea would give their right arm to tread on solid 'obsidian;' Those who have skirted around yawning abysses, gotten lost in a forest of basalt spires, and clambered over foot-shredding ashen slopes would give their left arm to be traversing a 'plain.'  If my prayers to the Grandmother had been answered during my travels in the Plain I would be physically incapable of writing this book.
- Skauk'uk Taku Yim, Gheen Explorer, Cartographer, and Chronicler[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/lavaborder.jpg)


To one not acquainted with the Clockwork Jungle, there is little that stands out in a landscape of eternal forest '" only rivers and the occasional sea break the boundless green canopy.  To a native, this is a preposterous idea.  The variation of the jungles is endless, with different kinds of forests, high mountains and low valleys, hidden springs and dark caverns, shady thickets and towering ruins'¦ the list goes on and on.  There is one place, however, where the contrast with the rest of the world could not be sharper.  It is there to be seen, smelled, felt, heard, even sensed.  No creature would ever mistake this place.

The Obsidian Plain is a massive expanse formed from innumerable overlapping lava flows.  Magma seethes underground everywhere in this place, roiling up from cracks in the ground or bursting forth from mighty volcanoes '" the plain is one enormous fumarole field.  Sulfurous fumes spew from underground vents, and pools of lava, hot mud, and seething mineral water are scattered everywhere.  Some are enormous: the Great Mud Sea is a particularly massive feature, where thick, boiling hot mud gurgles and simmers far off into the horizon.  The colors here are blacks, grays, and browns, punctuated only by the brilliant red glow of molten rock and the sallow gleam of brimstone.  Not even the blue sky is often seen here; a perpetual cloud of ash and dust smothers the landscape, sometimes high above the smoldering peaks and sometimes so low that travelers must practically crawl to avoid a painful suffocation.

The Plain is poorly defined.  Really, it exists only as far as its lava fields extend; sometimes new lava does not strike an area for generations, allowing the jungles to creep in onto the rich volcanic soil.  The Forest quickly moves to conquer the barren plains, only to be routed again when the next lava flow annihilates acre upon acre of new trees.  The Plain and the Forest are locked in an eternal struggle for territory that has gone on at least as long as there have been written records, with neither side able to claim any permanent victory over the other.  The outline of the Plain changes constantly because of these 'border disputes,' and as such no accurate map of the Plain's border ever exists for long.

The interior of the Plain, or the 'High Plain,' is more consistent.  Here, lava flows so abundantly and frequently that no growth is feasible.  The pitiful, stunted trees that sprout up from weathered cracks in the Low Plain are absent here, for if the lava flows do not kill them the ashen clouds that block out the sun surely will.  Here, the Plain is ever inviolate.  The High Plain is actually physically higher than the surrounding areas, thanks to the continual buildup of material; the entire Plain can be pictured as a very flattened dome, with the highest territory in the center.

So why go?  Many have lost their lives in the Plain, in this most inhospitable of places, far from their homes and families.  Surely the rewards must be great if the risk is so high?

Most travel to the Plain because of Lodestones.  Rare in the Low Plain, they become increasingly common in the High Plain, until on the slopes of the Grandmother Mountain one cannot take a step without treading on one.  They are heavy, but a single pouch of Lodestones can be worth a small fortune.  The poor and the desperate sometimes see the Plain as their only way out of misery and poverty into a world of luxury.

Others go there simply for the adventure and a love of exploration.  The notable features of the Plain have all been mapped by intrepid individuals and parties that sought knowledge and fame above all else (though they are often interested in Lodestones as well).  Some make a fortune through selling printed tales of their journeys, or by trading information on new and faster routes to Lodestone caches to newcomers.

Still others come as pilgrims, hoping to find enlightenment or wash away their transgressions in the land that purifies everything by fire.  Most consider these people quite mad, but all recognize the Plain as a place of great power and sacredness, and perhaps the key to the renewal and ascension of the spirit lies somewhere over the ash-clouded horizon.

As with the Forest, the landscape of the Obsidian Plain is highly variable '" it is estimated that up to 10% of the surface of the entire Plain is molten at any specific point in time.  A familiar cliff, pit, or lake could be gone in the time it takes a single lava flow to change course.  Generally speaking, however, larger features remain constant.  Volcanoes build up over long periods of time and are usually good landmarks for travel.  Occasionally, however, a sudden shift below the earth will cause a volcano to rise up fairly quickly, or detonate a volcano in an earth-shattering explosion.  These instances are rare, however, so the region's peaks can usually be counted on to guide any travelers determined or insane enough to be here.  Other large features like the Lakes of Dread, the Belching Spires, and the Sea of Repose are also good landmarks, though as their names imply not all of them are fun to visit.

The massive rainstorms that drench the Forest are usually absent here, but occasionally clouds do wander over the Plain.  A downpour on the Obsidian Plain usually results in a great swirling column of steam stretching up into the sky, visible for miles.  Where the hot, sooty air of the Plain meets the cooler air of the Forest on the Plain's edge, storms are frequent, sometimes surrounding the Plain with a veil of flashing lightning and crashing thunder and making life difficult for khauta flyers.

Flying is not recommended within the Plain.  The hot ambient air makes khauta less effective, and the double gravity erodes their usefulness even further.  Flyers on the Black Circle merely dip into th Plain to exploit its thermal resources, and do not stay for any longer than necessary.

Ecology

For the most part, the same plants grow in the Low Plain as in the Forest itself, only stunted by the higher gravity and occasionally charred by a lava flow that came too close.  They are much sparser, however, having to make a living in cracks where some thin soil has accumulated.  Areas that have been untouched by lava in many years can be quite lush, though the plants still appear stunted and perhaps a bit sickly.  Sometimes lava flows cut off areas of vegetation, leaving 'green islands' deep within the Low Plain that can remain for generations until they are inevitably destroyed.

One has a better chance of tripping over an emerald while walking in the Forest than finding a living plant in the High Plain (save for those around the Lake of Repose; see below).  Consequently, the only creatures living here are most unnatural, feeding exclusively on lava, rocks, or unwary travelers.  Natives of the High Plain seldom leave that place.

Cogs are not often found in the Plain.  They are usually associated with ruins, and there are no ruins in the Plain '" if there were, they have long since been destroyed by the eternal deluge of lava.  Some wander in the Low Plain, and their motives are as inscrutable as those of any other Cog.  Cogs do not travel into the High Plain.  Some hypothesize that the concentration of lodestones damages them, while others suggest that the Grandmother Mountain is the place where they were all forged, which for some reason they fear to return to.

[spoiler=Selected Features, in brief]

The Great Mud Sea is an immense sea of hellishly hot mud located in the Low Plain.  The mud is not brown, but a nondescript light grey color, save for a few areas in which sulfur or iron contamination gives the mud a yellowish or reddish tint (respectively).  The roiling slurry forms the largest contiguous geographic feature on the Plain.  The mud ranges in depth and consistency, but it scarcely matters to travelers, who will be scalded to death long before they drown.  Crossing the sea is almost impossible, as watercraft would be difficult to propel through mud, and giant 'mud toads' lurk beneath the surface.  There is a persistent legend among some Iskite villages near the Plain that bathing in this mud is uncommonly good for the scales, but few are willing to try it.

The Lakes of Dread, also known by its Umbril name (Tudain-Ul) are a series of large volcanic lakes in the Low Plain.  The Lakes are actually quite pretty, as for some unknown reason the rock beneath the water is often vividly colored.  Were a traveler to gaze upon the Lakes from a height, he would see an astounding palette of every color in the rainbow covering the landscape in irregular splotches.  This is an unlikely scene, however, because a cloud of steam hangs almost eternally over the entire region, generated by the Lakes themselves, which are quite hot (most are not boiling and can be entered safely).  The Lakes of Dread are so named because of the tendency for travelers to vanish within them.  The simplest explanation is that they became lost in the steam, but rumors persist that there are creatures of some kind that hunt the unwary within the mist.  True or not, those who pass through safely almost inevitably report the intense and uncanny feeling of being watched while among the Lakes.

The Belching Spires are rough, twisted basalt spires that rise abruptly out of the walls and floor of a steep-sided canyon.  The canyon is impressively long and runs roughly along one quarter of the 'boundary' (there is no exact dividing line) between the High and Low Plains.  The spires are sulfurous chimneys ranging between ten and forty feet tall, and they spew rotten-smelling brimstone smoke constantly.  The poisonous fumes are heavier than air and gather at the valley floor.  They cause a creature's eyes to sting and water, and will eventually cause permanent eye damage if the interloper does not protect himself somehow.  If it is to be crossed, the valley must be crossed quickly; eventually, a creature at the valley floor will notice it can no longer smell the brimstone, and at this point it usually only has minutes to live before it accumulates a lethal dose of the foul air.  Fortunately, the valley is so inhospitable that no dangerous creatures call it home.

The Blood Cauldrons are oddly bowl-shaped hot springs in the High Plain, so named because the rock within them looks as if it has been dyed incarnadine.  Most are too hot for normal creatures, but others are not dangerous to travelers.  Despite their ominous name, this region is the safest place in the entire High Plain and a common destination for travelers lucky enough to get this far.  This is because it is the location of a very large colony of Asheaters '" intelligent and massively strong creatures that are also slothful, non-aggressive, and (thankfully) do not eat meat (or the Umbril).  Most Asheaters are indifferent towards outsiders but those of the Blood Cauldrons are somewhat more hospitable, and (when feeling particularly energetic that day) may go so far as to render assistance to those who need it.  As they eat minerals, however, they have no food to offer creatures from the Forest.

The Sea of Repose is a modestly sized inland sea (really more of a large lake) within the High Plain, nestled within a ring of volcanoes.  For whatever reason, this area is devoid of the heat that dominates elsewhere.  The volcanoes around it are dead, and the Sea itself is cold and clear.  The water is drinkable (though distastefully acidic), and a few groves of gnarled, pitiful plants stand in patches around the Sea, somehow able to deal with the water's acidity - they are as white as bone, and cannot be found anywhere else.  It is the only known place in the High Plain where plants grow.  Explorers are well advised to stay within the valley only during the daylight hours.  At night, the Sea and the valley around it are teeming with swarms of Cairn Bats who will strip the flesh off of any living thing they come across.  The valley is dotted with the stripped bones of generations of past travelers and particularly luckless animals who somehow made it here and now give the Sea its fell name.

The Grandmother Mountain stands at the exact center of the Plain.  It is the tallest volcano in the High Plain, and is known best for its association with Lodestones.  All Lodestones 'point' to it, and its sides (when not deluged in lava) are dotted with more Lodestones than all the civilized peoples of the Forest could ever need.  At the top is a seething pool of lava.  Some of the few travelers lucky and foolish enough to travel to the top and survive have claimed that, on occasion, the lava sinks low enough to reveal an island made entirely of Lodestone at the pool's center.  So few people have been to the top of the Grandmother that it is difficult to confirm this myth, but it is known as the 'Shrine at the Center of the World.'  Everybody who has seen it tends to disagree on exactly what is on the island; some have said a Lodestone altar, or a whole palace of Lodestone, and one even reported seeing a flowering tree upon the isle.  This is all dubious information as anyone who has been there is, by definition, not entirely sane.  The most recent known visitor to the top of the mountain was Skauk'uk Taku Yim 30 years ago, and though he is well known for publishing every detail of his many journeys all over the world, he has never written or publicly spoken about what he saw at the top '" if he saw anything at all.[/spoiler]

Symbolism

The hellish nature of the Plain may suggest that it is somehow 'evil.'  Despite all the apparent evidence for this view, the civilized races of the Jungle do not see it that way.  To the Tahro, the Plain and Forest represent the cosmic duality of destruction and creation, neither of which is 'evil,' just complementary parts of the journey of existence.  Many Gheen worship the Grandmother Mountain as the manifestation of risk, venture, and trade '" a journey to the mountain carries great risks, but also hints at the reward of Lodestone, perhaps the most valuable material known.  To the Umbril, the Plain is the ultimate representation of the exertion of will, the one entity that perseveres against the Forest that swallowed even the cities and palaces of the Ancients.  Some say the Plain also appeals to their spartan aesthetics.  The Iskites revere the Grandmother Mountain as the ultimate example of duty and loyalty (as her Lodestone 'children' always face her), the literal and figurative axis upon which the world turns, and see the Plain as the unavoidable primal chaos that complements this supreme figure of order.

Still, the fact that it is not evil does not mean it is a welcoming place.  The danger it presents to even the most experienced and prepared explorer should never be underestimated.

The Obsidian Plain is awesome. I love the eternal battle that goes on between it and the forest, and its status as a locale for potential wealth that is difficult to survive - a more realistic kind of treasure hunting. I also like how the landscape can morph, making given routes to lodestones and whatnot unreliable at best and making continuous exploration viable. The Lakes of Dread are my favorite of the selective features with that feel of danger.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm starting to narrow my focus on a specific part of the campaign world, the "Greater Netai/Mosswaste Region" (an awkward, if descriptive, name).  Here we have an analysis of the state that out-Byzantines the Byzantines at politics, the Netai Confederation.  The complexity here isn't to flummox or astound, it's meant to give GMs a ready-made framework to construct their own adventures of political intrigue.  Heck, the Confederation even has a congress of secret members!

[ic=On the Court of the Confederation]I have come to believe that the government of the Netai Umbril was specifically designed to be maddening - so maddening, in fact, that it incenses all the civil authorities of the land against their peers until they well and truly hate each other.  Once everyone in power hates everyone else in power, it is impossible to form conspiracies against the people.  Among the Netai, politics is like the arena; the people watch the ferocious beasts fight, knowing that as long as the creatures devour each other they will not turn on the spectators.
- Tsalang, Iskite Diplomat[/ic]


In theory, the government of the Confederation is chosen by its people (at least, its Umbril people).  Citizens elect the College of Envoys, who make up the Deputation, which elects the Princes, who appoint the Intendant and Conservator.  In reality, however, the practice of politics is murky and all but impenetrable to those who do not make it their profession.  Many offices are buried behind so many levels of appointment, review, and selection that popular influence becomes extremely diluted.  This is no accident, and the system's proponents say it does an excellent job of making the government responsible to the populous while also insulating it from the whims of the mob.

Below is a simplified (yes, you read that correctly) chart of relationships and selection processes in the Netai government.  

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/Netai.png)
[note=Categorization]I've participated in almost every "what kind of government is this" thread we've had, so I feel obligated to try and categorize this one.  Though it's technically a dual elective monarchy, the monarchs don't actually have much power, and it appears and functions more like an Aristotelian "mixed government," comprising elements of democracy, monarchy, and oligarchy.[/note]Noble Offices

The Prince of the Yellow is the pre-eminent Umbril of the Confederation, and is first in the official ceremonial order.  The Prince of the Yellow has some important duties, but they are extremely limited.  He has veto power over the office of the Coronet of Aliens, allowing him to negate a candidate elected by Netai's alien community if the prospective Coronet is unpalatable to the Umbril administration.  Together with the Prince of the Blue, he appoints the Intendant.  Otherwise, the Prince is primarily a figurehead meant to represent the pride and power of the Confederation.  He is elected by the Deputation.

The Prince of the Blue holds second rank in the ceremonial order.  Like the Prince of the Yellow, his duties are quite limited, but highly important.  He appoints the Conservator himself, and appoints the Intendant along with the Prince of the Yellow.  He is the Confederation's spiritual leader, and presides over official ceremonies. Traditionally, he is allotted a grand sum every Red Season by the College of Envoys to distribute to the poor.  He is elected by the Deputation.

The Coronet of Aliens holds the impressive rank of third within the ceremonial order.  His office was established as a way for the Confederation's alien community (that is, its non-Umbril residents, who make up around 30% of the population) to have a role in official politics.  Indeed, his is the only non-military post within the government that can be held by a non-Umbril.  The Coronet is elected directly by resident aliens, subject to review by the Prince of the Yellow (who rarely rejects the candidate he is offered).  He advises both the Deputation and the College of Envoys, and can review and veto selections for both the Assembly of Service and the Intendant-Marshals.

High Administrative Offices

The Conservator is fourth within the ceremonial order.  Traditionally, the Conservator is the grand arbiter and protector of law, public morality, and tradition within the Confederation.  Appointed by the Prince of the Blue, the Conservator is the executor of the Monitorship, the enforcers of Confederation law, and appoints the members of the College of Seekers (whom he also advises officially).  Though he has considerable executive power, the Conservator is irrelevant to policy-making unless he can leverage the College of Seekers to stack the Deputation in his favor.  

The Intendant is fifth within the ceremonial order, which is deceptive given that his office is probably the most powerful of all.  The Intendant has extensive civil and military powers; he appoints the Intendant-Marshals directly (with the acceptance of the Coronet of Aliens) and is the leader of the Deputation, whose candidates for membership he is capable of accepting or rejecting at his pleasure.  Powerful Intendants can use these powers to become almost dictatorial, but a hostile College of Seekers has foiled powerful Intendants in the past by refusing to nominate any Deputates, causing an 'invisible Deputation' (this is a pun, as the secretive Deputation already is 'invisible') and paralyzing the government.  The Intendant serves at the behest of the Princes and is appointed directly by them.

The Intendant-Marshals are the military commanders of the Confederation, chosen (in theory) for their ability rather than any political considerations.  They are directly appointed by the Intendant with the approval of the Coronet of Aliens.  Intendant-Marshals, like all officers in the Confederation military, can be aliens.  They are sixth and last in the ceremonial order.

Legislative and Bureaucratic Bodies

The Deputation is a shadowy committee of Umbril nominated by the College of Seekers from among ranks of the College of Envoys and approved by the Intendant.  The members of the Deputation are secret; only the Seekers, the Coronet of Aliens, and the Intendant are entitled to know who sits on the Deputation (though the Conservator usually knows too).  The penalty for 'outing' a Deputate is permanent exile.  The Deputation has the task of electing the Princes of the Confederation.  They have few other official duties, but because the Deputates are simultaneously Envoys (they retain their seats in the College) the Deputation traditionally acts as the 'secret leadership' of the College of Envoys that influences all policy in the Confederation.  They can anonymously reject candidates elected to the College of Envoys but seldom do so, as this would risk turning the mob against them.

The College of Envoys is the popularly elected legislative body of the Confederation.  One Envoy is sent from every community on the isles.  Besides making law and policy, they select candidates for the Assembly of Service.  They are advised officially by the Coronet of Aliens, the only alien allowed within their chambers.  Depending on how powerful the Intendant and the Conservator are at any one time, the Envoys can either be a very independent decision-making body or a puppet show of the Deputation.

The College of Seekers is a technocratic body drawn from the ranks of the Assembly of Service.  Seekers are traditionally all scholars '" lawyers, administrators, tax collectors, scribes, and other professional functionaries who have been selected for service by the Conservator (who also advises the Seekers).  The Seekers are meant to counterbalance the demagoguery of the College of Envoys with their superior wisdom and knowledge of the bureaucracy, and accomplish this by nominating Envoys to the Deputation.  Their other duties include doing studies and assessments for the Envoys, the Intendant, the Coronet, or anyone else who requires their abilities.

The Assembly of Service is not actually a deliberative body, but rather the sum total of all the Confederation's bureaucrats, great and small.  They do their jobs and have little to do with the working of government unless appointed as Seekers.  Only the Umbril can take civil service jobs within the Assembly, and they are nominated to their positions by the College of Envoys.  The Coronet of Aliens has veto power over any appointments but does not often use it.

The Monitorship is not a deliberative body either, but the order of 'Monitors" who enforce the laws and customs of the Confederation within its borders.  The name and the function of the monitors are adopted almost whole cloth from similar officials in Iskite society who serve to protect order and tradition within the village.  Only Umbril can serve as Monitors.  Monitors are elected locally, and the Conservator serves as the 'Supreme Monitor' and leads the organization.  They have no political role outside the fulfillment of their jobs.

The Smokefleet and the Isle Militia are the two military branches of the Confederation, controlling the sky and the ground (respectively).  Recruited from both the Confederation's alien and Umbril populations, they have no role in politics.

[ic=Exerpt, The Lament]I am born anew in the clutches of my adversaries.
- Avan-Avan, Umbril Poet[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/umbrilborder.jpg)


There is a famous story about a Gheen prophet who confronted the dreaded Umbril warlord Enti-Ven Famar.  The prophet rebuked it for all the death and pain it had caused, and proceeded to recount a long list of its atrocities and sins.  When he was finished, Enti-Ven simply responded, 'Only an Umbril may judge an Umbril,' and had the prophet executed.  Though most Umbril are in no way as flippant or violent as Enti-Ven or its comrades, the basic sentiment '" that the Umbril are special and separate from the other races of the Jungle '" is very familiar to most of them.  The Umbril see themselves as unique in a physical, mental, spiritual, and moral sense from all other forms of life, in an unceasing rivalry with all other things that both threatens and strengthens them as a people.
[note=New Umbril]I'm planning a "relaunch" of all the races, and the Umbril get to be first.  Since I still haven't really settled on a game system, it's all fluff, which is what I like best anyway.  Previous statements on the Umbril should be ignored when they conflict with what's here.[/note]
[spoiler=Physiology]Umbril are stocky fungal creatures with a roughly humanoid shape.  The average Umbril stands about four to five feet tall and weighs about 140-180 pounds.  They are not terribly fast or graceful, but are known for their sturdiness and physical resilience.

Umbril have no bones, but a stiff 'stalk' runs up the inside of their bodies, and they have a chitinous, scale-like 'skin' that provides both protection and support.  Their limbs lack interior joints, which accounts for their awkward movement and lack of manual dexterity compared to members of other races.  They also lack digits, and instead have bunches of root-like tendrils on the ends of their legs and arms that grip objects with a sandpaper-like texture.

Their coloration is usually a mottled brown, which gets darker toward their legs and totally black at the lower ends (their 'feet').  Color does not differ much between individuals, but Umbril are able to recognize each other by smell and their chitin patterns.  It can sometimes be hard to tell individual Umbril apart at first, but individuals tend to have distinctive patterns of 'flaking' of their chitin-scales which anyone can recognize (if they're paying attention).

Umbril have milk-white eyes shaped like long horizontal ovals, which are capable of perfect (albeit black and white) sight even in pitch black conditions.  No irises or pupils are evident.  They have poor color perception even in bright conditions, but otherwise have quite good eyesight.

Umbril are simultaneous hermaphrodites; they are all capable of producing and fertilizing Umbril spores.  They have no males or females '" or, more correctly, they are all males and females.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Language]Umbril produce sounds by blowing air through their gills.  In this way, they are capable of complex speech with a characteristic thin, high-pitched, rasping accent.  Interestingly, as their gills are separate from their mouth (which is used only to ingest food), an Umbril's mouth does not actually move when it is speaking.  They have acute senses of smell, but this does not play a role in their language like it does for Iskites.  Umbril are very adept at producing a wide array of sounds at the higher end of the tonal spectrum, and make whistling 'shrieks' when angry or frightened.  Umbril laughter is a breathy, whistling warble that other races don't necessarily recognize as laughter unless they've heard it before.

The Umbril are a very verbal people that enjoy wordplay, poetry, and linguistics.  As a result, they use a broad array of languages, though most have some similarities from the latter days of the Age of Prophets.  Individual communities (the Umbril refer to their villages as 'colonies') may use several languages for different uses, some of which are 'secret languages' never taught to outsiders, even Umbril outsiders.  When interacting with those of other races, Umbril generally prefer to learn the language of the foreigner rather than the other way around, as they feel this gives them an advantage over others.  Most adult Umbril know at least one foreign language unless they are from a truly isolated colony.

The Umbril have no concept of gender except what they learn from other races.  As a result, all their languages lack gender, and they tend to avoid using gendered words even when speaking other languages.  Iskites and Gheen generally use the female gender when referring to Umbril (Tahro languages lack gendered pronouns).[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Life Cycle]Umbril reproduce communally.  They have elaborate social ceremonies where the adult members of the community expel spore clouds that mingle and are fertilized in a choking yellow-green fog that eventually settles like dust on the forest floor.  Only a miniscule percentage of these fertilized spores actually survive into adulthood.  Umbril 'children' are sessile, anchored to the ground and only capable of being moved around (transplanted) by another.  They are conscious some time before they are mobile.  As a result, Umbril are often confused by the idea of 'rebellious' or otherwise troublesome children, because theirs can't go anywhere.  'Sporelings' become capable of rudimentary speech around age 6, mobile around age 10 (at which point they can be called 'Ambulants'), and full adults around age 16.  Adulthood is defined as the time at which an Umbril reaches reproductive maturity, and is able to participate in communal reproduction.

Like Iskites, Umbril do not know or care who is the parent of which child, but unlike Iskites (who purposefully raise children communally to avoid developing family ties), the Umbril could not know this even if they tried.  They consider the idea of a biological family rather strange, but do not consider it necessarily a bad thing like Iskites do; their way is simply different, just like all their ways of doing things.  There is a suspicion among the Umbril that the Iskites developed communal child-rearing because they were envious of Umbril society, something that the Iskites would certainly (and strenuously) deny.

Umbril do have families and family names, but their families are entirely based on adoption and mutual bonds of friendship rather than kinship.  Umbril society is not very trusting or open, and Umbril tend to have few close friends even among their own people.  Umbril that do grow to sincerely trust one another will often decide to form a family.  Umbril do not understand the nature of familial affection, romantic love, or sexual attraction, but their scholars often write about these subjects, much as human scientists would discuss the odd behaviors and mating mechanisms of animals or plants.  Umbril are capable of very strong bonds of friendship, however, once their seemingly genetic suspiciousness is overcome, that are as powerful as any familial or romantic bonds.

An Umbril family (more properly called a Metil, meaning 'web') has only a social purpose, not a reproductive one.  A single Umbril may choose to adopt a Sporeling into his 'family' even if he is the only member of it.  There is fierce competition among Umbril for the most clever and vital sporelings, which are assigned rather haphazardly in a manner that some outsiders have compared to a slave auction.  Indeed, sporelings are basically servants to their adult 'parents' until their own adulthood, even after they have become mobile, and there is frequently no love or even friendship between a parent and child.  The Umbril view each other as means to an end, even their own children, and expect others to treat them the same way '" parents are to be respected, but not loved.  Attitudes on sporeling-rearing differ, however, and some Umbril believe some kind of friendly connection is good for the sporeling, while others say that a harsh environment will better prepare it for a harsh world.  The latter philosophy is more predominant.

Aged Umbril are said to be 'long in the gills,' as their gills do indeed grow and stretch over time.  Very old Umbril begin to take on a slimy texture as the last phase of their life '" decomposition '" begins.  At around 80 years of age, an Umbril's failing vitality and mental acuity lead it to anchor itself in place, where it drifts steadily into a decomposing unconsciousness from which it does not awake.  Dead umbril leave no bones behind, and their decayed bodies make excellent fertilizer, which is used by the Umbril to fertilize the soil in which the next generation of Umbril is grown.  In this way, the Umbril end their lives with one final contribution to the colony, and the circle of life and death is completed.  Exactly how long the oldest Umbril lived is unknown, because there is no precisely known border between life and death.  Umbril death (that is, natural death) is not a moment of loss, but a gradual transition back into the soil.

Umbril life and society being as they are, however, the average life expectancy of an Umbril is significantly lower than their average age of natural death.

The practice of prolonging one's existence through undeath is frowned upon in most civilized cultures, but among the Umbril it is an accepted method by which especially powerful and clever Umbril can cheat death and continue to master others for as long as magic sustains them.  'Telavai,' as they are called, appear as shriveled, desiccated Umbril, as gaunt as normal Umbril are stocky.  The exact process is a closely guarded secret which one Umbril must endeavor to steal from another that possesses it.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Society]Umbril society is complex, murky, and frequently dangerous. Living near the ground and threatened by many jungle creatures, the Umbril do not abide the weak.  Might makes right in the world of the Umbril, and those not strong enough to rule either obey or are eliminated.  They place a high emphasis on ambition, perseverance, self-reliance, and cleverness, but not on compassion or altruism.  One's rewards must be earned and strived for in order for them to be truly appreciated, and to the Umbril, generosity is a vice that devalues hard work and weakens the community.  Others find the Umbril to be secretive, conniving, callous, and pessimistic, but Umbril are also practical, self-reliant, perceptive, and prudent.  They will fight tooth and nail for their survival and that of the close circle of individuals who they have come to truly trust.  Umbril are not quick to make friends, but they will die for those they truly consider their friends and allies.

Since they all exchange spores together without the ability to choose their 'mates,' they believe the culling of weak and unfit members of the community before adulthood is beneficial to the community as a whole.  The Umbril create so many spores that do not survive that they have become inured to the idea of mass infant mortality, and don't understand the taboos other cultures have against infanticide.  To the Umbril, life is cheap, especially young life.  The 'right to live' is something one earns and jealously defends from others, not something one is born with.

Umbril social structure is largely determined by cleverness and deception, though familial membership also plays a part.  Being in a respected metil means that you are good friends with a respected Umbril, even if you yourself are not as admired.  Family membership also makes it more likely that someone will avenge your untimely death, deterring would-be assassins.  The social structure of the Umbril is generally impervious to outside observation, partly because the Umbril enjoy fooling outsiders and partly because it is continually in flux.  One social mistake may cost an Umbril all his social standing, or even lead to his death.

Assassination is frowned upon not because it is innately immoral, but because outright killing an enemy is not very subtle or demonstrative of great political skill.  Still, it is not very rare, especially as one reaches the rarified heights of a colony's real movers and shakers.  It is almost universal for there to be a certain 'grace period' during which an Umbril who knows it will likely be assassinated is allowed to flee the community rather than face death, and most Umbril explorers and adventurers started on their career path after running afoul of the wrong Umbril and 'electing' to leave their colony.  A target of assassination will often be warned ahead of time by the assassins or their masters to afford it this opportunity.

Umbril colonies usually do not have 'formal' leaders, and most have not since the Age of Prophets.  Decisions are made by those with the influence and power to implement them, whoever that might be.  If a single leader is needed, usually to deal with foreign visitors, an Umbril is selected to do so by those in power.  This Umbril typically is not actually one of the more influential ones, though foreigners are led to believe it is.  Actual influential Umbril will pose as servants or advisors in meetings with outsiders, giving them the opportunity to scrutinize the visitor without being closely scrutinized in turn.

Occasionally several villages will come under a unified regime, typically when a particularly strong metil extends its network of intrigue into other colonies.  In such cases, an Ivet (literally 'base' or 'foundation' but usually translated as 'Prince') is sometimes crowned from the ruling family's members, though the actual crowned Umbril may not be the most powerful or influential within the family.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Habitat]Umbril live on the forest floor, in villages designed to utilize the natural surroundings for camouflage and defense.  Most of the settlement is underground in tunnel networks burrowed between the roots of the Forest's great trees.  Umbril families live in individual burrows, which always have multiple entrances and exits, some of which may be hidden.  'Sporeling farms,' where sessile Sporelings are nurtured until adopted and transplanted elsewhere, are hidden away as far as possible from surface entrances.

Umbril settlements are not very well planned, with new burrows being dug only when needed and where there is extra space.  If the colony becomes too big to remain easily concealed, a section of the population is dispatched to form a new colony, usually about a day's journey from the old one.  Very old colonies are often the center of 'clusters' of up to a dozen smaller colonies that have broken off from the original colony or each other over many years.

There are few known Umbril 'cities' in the Forest, though the Netai Umbril are urbanized to a degree that most other Umbril would find surprising.  When they exist, Umbril cities are based in and around isolated ruins, and ancient halls and chambers replace the usual hand-dug tunnels and burrows.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Warfare]Since the Orange Strife, the Umbril have seldom fought offensively, not even to take slaves.  They view slaves as being too dangerous to keep, as an escaped slave could betray secrets about the colony's location or layout to potential enemies.  Their colonies are designed to escape notice altogether, but when they are discovered they typically rely on a large militia of armed citizens rather than the small, semi-professional forces favored by the other races.

A visitor may pass through a colony without even being aware of it because of how carefully burrow entrances and surface structures are obscured.  Visitors will be observed covertly; if they are judged to be interesting or useful '" and more importantly, not a threat '" they will be greeted and brought to a designated burrow or structure where they can meet and trade with select Umbril.  Visitors are not given free reign to travel around the tunnel network, and Umbril 'minders' are with visitors at all times to make sure they do not get anywhere they are not welcome.

If visitors discover a colony by themselves, they will be greeted if they are judged to be non-threatening.  If the Umbril perceive them as a threat or think they may divulge the colony's location to those who are, they will be immediately attacked in force.  The Umbril will fight to capture or kill, as any intruders who escape could communicate the colony's location to others.  Captives may be used as leverage in diplomacy, but if they are not useful they will be executed.

The Umbril prefer to fight on the ground or underground, where their unique visual abilities give them an advantage.  They prefer smaller weapons that can be easily wielded in cramped tunnels, such as trumpet axes, goads, and picks.  Blowguns, bows, and bolas are used on the surface.  Armor is usually light in order to preserve mobility and stealth, though during the Orange Strife iron and steel armor was common in the Umbril ranks.  The Umbril are well acquainted with poisons, and use them liberally in battle.

Umbril can expel a choking cloud of (unfertilized) spores at an enemy, and Umbril often use this to surprise an opponent or effect an escape.

The Umbril also prefer fighting on the ground because most have a prodigious fear of heights.  The Netai Umbril are a notable exception to this otherwise reliable rule.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Art and Music]The Umbril have a spartan aesthetic, and enjoy a simple, functional object more than a superfluous or ornate work of art. They do, however, have a certain fondness for sculpture.  Clay sculpting is a common activity, and most colonies have one or more dedicated sculptors who work with more permanent materials like wood and stone.  The Umbril do not have a predisposition for hoarding wealth and tend to dislike ostentatious displays of it, but wealthier Umbril may keep private statue gardens for their own personal enjoyment.  The subjects of Umbril statues can be nearly anything, though they are usually realistic depictions of objects rather than abstractions.

Geometric patterns are often engraved or set into everyday objects, especially those reflecting spiritually significant numbers or symbols.  This is partly aesthetic, but partly religious as well, as many Umbril believe such patterns and shapes can protect them from malign forces or expand their own spiritual awareness.

The Umbril don't have any tradition of singing, though they can mimic high-pitched animals sounds with some proficiency.  They consider oratory to be superior to music, but do use simple instruments (primarily percussion and wind) to accompany a speech or poem, or during certain religious events.  Music is at most a passing hobby for them, and Umbril colonies have no "musicians" as such.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Food]Umbril live almost entirely off rotting and fermented vegetable matter, though they can eat animal matter as well.  They can consume a wide variety of materials but have difficulty digesting things that are not partially decomposed already.  Umbril colonies maintain 'swamp pits' in which leaf litter, rotting wood, over-ripe fruit, and even animal corpses are layered and compressed until they become sufficiently spoiled for the Umbril to digest and enjoy them.  Umbril consider the food of the other races to be detestably 'under-ripe.'  The Umbril do not cook most of their food, but do consider pickled things to be delicacies.  Caravans that plan to stop by Umbril colonies often bring pickled eggs or fruit rinds to trade for supplies.

The Umbril consider mold to be a spice, and enjoy enhancing many kinds of foods with various mold colonies to accent and complement the natural flavors.  They realize that their cuisine is usually distasteful and sometimes harmful to those of other races, and greatly respect aliens with the intestinal fortitude to join them in a traditional Umbril meal.

The Umbril do not domesticate any kind of animal for food, though many scavenging animals are attracted by Umbril swamp pits.  Rootlings and Giant Scavenger Beetles are often found near Umbril colonies and may be used as guard animals or even mounts.

Alcohol does not affect Umbril in any noticeable way, either positively or negatively.  In fact, alcohol is one of the primary waste products of their digestion, and Umbril blood is usually described as smelling like over-ripe fruit and alcohol.  Some jokingly refer to Umbril as 'wine-blooded' or say that someone is 'drunk as an Umbril,' though Umbril cannot actually get 'drunk.'  The Umbril observe the drinking practices of other races with some degree of unease, and there is a persistent myth among the Umbril that these other races sometimes abduct Umbril (particularly sporelings) in order to drink their blood.  This 'blood libel' has led to sensational violence against non-Umbril before, especially in the Umbril cities of the Netai (which contain sizeable non-Umbril minorities who may be unjustly blamed for a death or disappearance).[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Recreation]The Umbril often compose poetry in their free time.  Umbril poetry is both precise and vague, using carefully selected words and rhymes to convey complex or even contradictory statements.  Avan-Avan, the most renowned Umbril poet of all time, wrote once that the essence of Umbril poetry was 'describing an imperfect world with perfect speech.'  Poetry developed among the Umbril as a means of 'ritualizing' speech and conveying subtleties, and even the most common of Umbril sprinkles poetic lines or rhythmic phrases throughout their normal communication. The Umbril relish subtlety and ambiguity; to them, the more ways a poem can be interpreted, the better the poem is.

Most Umbril poems are fairly short, though there are a few widely known epics.  The archetypal protagonist of an Umbril epic is 'Neven-Il Tebral,' the main character of Zenta-Til's 'The Black Clay.'  Neven-Il starts as a worthless, overlooked weakling who, through its own scheming and charisma, manipulates the powerful members of its colony into destroying each other without Neven-Il ever having to get its hands dirty.  By the end of the epic, Neven-Il is about to become Prince of all the surrounding villages '" but is then assassinated by its own jealous family member, the ultimate betrayal and a lesson to all about the danger of trust.  The beauty of The Black Clay is that Neven-Il is only one of many characters at the start of the epic, appearing to be a mere supporting character until its rise to power becomes unstoppable.

The Umbril are linguistically competitive, and like to engage friends and rivals in riddles or word games.  Conflict is often resolved through an intense, fast paced exchange of poetic improvisation, and a loss to a rival may lead to tangible loss of status and face within a community.  The ability to compose poetry and riddles is cultivated early on, for immobile Sporelings have little else to do with their free time than bandy words with each other in the dim light of their communal burrow.

The Umbril enjoy all manner of other games of skill (they generally detest games of chance), but for the Umbril no game is complete without a verbal component.  The idea of 'respecting one's opponent' by remaining silent and giving them time to think is preposterous to them.  They taunt and ridicule each other with barbs of dry wit, and it often appears that Umbril are more engaged in one-upping each other verbally than winning the game itself.

The Umbril commonly use mind-altering substances, but they believe this to be a spiritual or societal act rather than one of recreation.  Perhaps as a result of their desire to rise beyond the transient physical world, even if only temporarily, the Umbril knowledge of botany and herbalism far exceeds that of any other race.[/spoiler]
[note=Ivetziven]You can find more information about the Ivetzivenid pantheon here (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?55508.last).[/note]
[spoiler=Religion]The primary Umbril faith is the worship of Ivetziven, the 'Prince of Fungi,' and its five aspects.  The Ivetzivenid pantheon and its role in Umbril society is detailed separately.

The Umbril are a notoriously superstitious people.  They place more emphasis on sacred numbers and symbols than any other civilized race, and commonly design everyday objects to reflect sacred geometries as well.  They do not believe that such practices will bring them 'luck' as such, but do believe that they will protect them from baleful spirits or encourage friendly spirits to bless them.  The Umbril (like most of the other civilized peoples) are essentially animists, who believe that spirits exist in nearly everything.

Faith in Ivetziven and its aspects does not preclude such beliefs.  While the Umbril praise the Fivefold Fungus as their creator, protector, and patron, they realize that it is not the be-all and end-all of the spiritual realm.  Exactly how this realm is perceived varies widely from place to place, and different Umbril colonies may revere unique panoplies of place spirits, animal gods, wyrms, and Aras Tay (the wild and often ferocious fey of the Forest).  The Umbril sprinkle small rituals and sacrifices throughout their day to placate the spirits with the most influence on their own lives.

Religion is a personal matter among the Umbril, save for the established rites and holy days of Ivetziven and its Fruiting Bodies, which are considered a community obligation.  Umbril colonies typically have a handful of dedicated 'priests,' who are in some sense outside traditional Umbril society '" they are respected as channels to the gods, but also looked at somewhat patronizingly because they do not take part in the struggle for status and influence that most Umbril dedicate themselves to.  They live on the outskirts of the community literally as well as socially, inhabiting burrows or temple mounts near the edge of the colony, where they are allowed to perform arcane and secret rites for the benefit of the colony.  There is a great deal of mystery and secret knowledge in Umbril religion, which is largely left to those few Umbril devoted enough to make a living of it.  The priesthood originally had a more central place in Umbril society, but it became increasingly marginalized as a political force during the Age of the Prophets, and it has never recovered.

The Umbril are more resilient to the infestation of the Saffron Moss than most other creatures.  Most view this as simply a blessing of Ivetziven, but there do exist small and scattered cells of deranged cultists who have turned away from Ivetziven and worship the Peril as their god.  Such cult cells exist largely among the Netai Umbril, situated as they are near the great Mosswaste.  The Umbril do not abide these sick reprobates and will kill any such cultists that they discover, but it is an unfortunate truth that as many Umbril take up the Saffron Mantle as all the other three civilized races put together.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Relations]The Umbril are suspicious of all the other races, and consider them all to be rivals and potential threats.  Still, they realize that other people have things they want, and usually make at least an attempt to judge an individual based on his own merits than writing him off as just another alien.  The Umbril don't like to underestimate people.

The Umbril find the Iskites to be far too stubborn and direct, but respect their work ethic.  They find it hard to understand why the Iskite goal of 'understanding one's place in the world' is a good thing; an Umbril always wants to improve its position and gain in power and influence, not become comfortable and complacent with mediocrity.  The Umbril expect others to be as ambitious as they are, and they find the Iskite lack of societal ambition to be profoundly odd.  Despite these differences, Iskite villages and Umbril colonies tend to get along reasonably well.  In some places, close economic relations have developed between a village and a colony, in which the Umbril provide the agriculturalist Iskites with fertilizer and the Iskites give the Umbril the vast organic waste from their fields, which the Umbril are happy to ferment and eat.  Their relationship deteriorated significantly during the Orange Strife, but it is steadily on the mend.

The Umbril are deeply mistrustful of the Gheen, who strike them as dangerously unpredictable.  The Umbril find their flippant and flighty nature bizarre and barbaric, and the garish ostentation of the Gheen offends their  utilitarian sensibilities.  To the Umbril, the Gheen appear to take nothing as seriously as it should be taken, and the Umbril usually dismiss them as mercurial, irrelevant pests.  The seemingly irresistible march of the World-Queen's armies (referring to Auk Yrta Su'u, a despotic Gheen Empress), however, has made many Umbril re-evaluate the Gheen and see them as potentially deadly foes.  War between the two races would probably be much more common if they shared the same habitat, but even thinking about the dizzying height of a Gheen drey makes most Umbril feel ill, and the Gheen are no match for most predators on the forest floor.  As a result, they seldom interact.  Occasionally an Umbril colony will be established underneath a drey, as the Gheen simply dump most of their trash off their tree platforms, and Umbril have no qualms about eating it.  The Umbril don't advertise their presence and the Gheen usually never know they are there.

The Umbril interact most with the Tahro, who share the forest floor with them.  The Umbril do not have much respect for their cleverness and find them to be rather brutish at times, and are stunned by a culture that relies on reciprocal gift-giving.  The Tahro know very well how manipulative the Umbril can be, but afford them the traditions of hospitality regardless, which often leads the Umbril to believe they are far more naïve or oblivious than they really are.  The two races don't have much to offer each other, but some Umbril colonies have developed a symbiotic relationship with a blood (a Tahr 'clan').  Because the Tahro are semi-nomadic, cycling through multiple seasonal camps on a yearly basis, the Umbril have found them to be convenient middlemen to trade with Iskite or Gheen settlements that they'd rather not approach directly.  The Tahro take on Umbril goods one season, and come back next year with goods from other peoples they met during their migration.  For that reason the Umbril sometimes solicit the Tahro to establish one of their seasonal camps near their colony (though never too near).  The Umbril are better traders and negotiators and typically get the most out of this arrangement, but they must avoid being too exploitative, or the blood will simply pack up and move on.

It is not unprecedented for a non-Umbril to become part of an Umbril metil, since the only requirement for familial induction is close friendship.  It is a rare practice, however, because non-Umbril are not usually comfortable in Umbril society, and because the metil takes on all responsibility for the actions of its members.  If a member betrays the community, by ancient tradition the entire metil is exiled.  The most common non-Umbril members are rogue Iskites, who have been born into exile because their birth was not sanctioned by the state.  Such exiles may spend years earning the trust of the community to gain status and be inducted into a metil, at which point the Umbril generally treat them similarly to any other member of their colony (though they believe that no non-Umbril can ever truly know all there is about being Umbril).  There is a well-known (but probably apocryphal) legend about an Iskite Ivet who ruled over several Umbril villages in the Wash for many years.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Varieties]Though all Umbril vary slightly in coloration, size, and chitin patterns depending on the region they are from, there are some distinct Umbril populations that differ substantially from one another.

The Nevir-Umbril ('Soil Umbril') are the 'standard' Umbril described above, and are the most common variety.  They are most common in the Red Depths, the Flowering Moors, the Wash, and the Lesser Cogsteeth.

The Evne-Umbril ('Indigo Umbril'), also known as the Netai Umbril, live primarily in and around the Sea of Netai and on the edges of the Mosswaste.  They tend to be thinner and lighter than normal, and their coloration is more of a reddish-brown (the 'Indigo' in their name refers not to their color, but the 'Indigo Sea,' the traditional name for the Sea of Netai).  Evne-Umbril eat more meat than others, largely in the form of fish, and lack the usual Umbril fear of heights.

The Vars-Umbril ('Talus Umbril') are a branch of the race that lives in the Halberd Spires and the Ninefold Vale.  They are broader than normal Umbril and have a more grayish coloration.  Vars-Umbril do not live in burrows, but in villages constructed above ground, and are generally more militaristic than other Umbril.  Their chitin secretions are mildly poisonous.

The Ajen-Umbril ('Flame Umbril') are a small but well-known semi-nomadic branch of Umbril who live near the Greater Cogsteeth and the fringe of the Obsidian Plain.  They are more open and extroverted than other Umbril and are heavily involved with local trade in the areas they inhabit.  Ajen-Umbril spores have a stupefying quality when used on other races.[/spoiler]

fIRST OFF, Your template for race characterization is to be considered stolen.  No ifs, ands or buts.  The one thing you are missing is a brief historical sketch do help explain the racial identity a lttle better.

I''m very happy you did not fall into the trap of making them too 'communal', allowing a large level of independence necessary to achieve PC sympathy/empathy.  I am seeing them as somewhat like 'Vegetable Vulcans', very logical, but with the whole 'right to live' philosphy and culling out the weak schtick.  I liked very much giving us their relational insights to other races, since that, in turn, shows us how they view their own place in the clockwork.

and the sub races also really helped e.  I loved the Vars-Umbril, and could see them becoming the mercanary / warrior caste.

There is a lot in this thread to look over.  To be totally honest, I will probably never look at it all.  However, since I already began my commentary on your race called Umbril, via the thread about their religion, I will comment on them in the very least.  As usual, I will do this one part at a time and I will do it as I read.

1. Layout The quote at the top and the picture are both nice touches.  I like that you have made this post and, really, this whole thread half discussion and half sourcebook.  The one thing I dislike about your layout is the heavy use of spoiler blocks.  I understand that you're probably just not wanting it to look like a wall of text but I'm still not a fan of this method.  Also, why are the spoiler sections separated so much?

2. Introduction

Quote from: Polycarp!Though most Umbril are in no way as flippant or violent as Enti-Ven or its comrades, the basic sentiment '" that the Umbril are special and separate from the other races of the Jungle '" is very familiar to most of them. The Umbril see themselves as unique in a physical, mental, spiritual, and moral sense from all other forms of life, in an unceasing rivalry with all other things that both threatens and strengthens them as a people.

3. Physiology[/b] Since you seem to place so much focus on Umbril being 'different', why are they humanoid?  Even if that focus were not there, why would fungal beings ever end up being humanoid?  Did their gods make them this way?  That doesn't seem likely.  Have you even considered this?  Does it even matter to you?

Your description of the textures and movement of the Umbril, though short and simple, do much to bring them to life in my mind.  In there I have assigned them a tan kind of color with strong hints of pale green and I can see how their movement could even be frightening, seeming so alien to 'normal' races.

The color is something you covered next and I see I was a bit off.  What you describe works just as well for me, though.  I like the idea of them getting darker further down.  It looks good in my mind's eye and puts more of an emphasis on them being plant (fungus) creatures.  You also round out your very basic description nicely with mention of the eyes, their uses, and their limitations.

4. Language Wait, Umbril have gills?  That should really be mentioned in the Physiology entry.  I don't fully understand why they have them, though.  Perhaps you could explain?  You've done well to explain what it is like for an Umbril to communicate.

Now I have another question.  If they blow air through their gills to speak their own language, how do Umbril speak other languages?  It seems that they would not be properly equipped to do so.  I do like that you mention how the Umbril approach other languages different from their native speakers as well as how other languages approach the Umbril.  This is a kind of thing that is often overlooked but seems very important for such an alien race.

5. Life Cycle It is interesting that the first part of the life cycle you discuss is reproduction and the way children grow.  This also seems to put more focus on the Umbril being fungus creatures and not human at all.

You certainly thought out the way that this race handles families pretty well.  It is different and alien but not without logic.  The parent-child relationship is likewise odd but seems to fit very well with the religion followed by the Umbril.

The way you approach death for the Umbril as a kind of fading away is interesting.  It could be terrifying to outsiders or it could seem ideal and peaceful.  I also like that they are used to fertilize the next generation when they die.  This, however, seems to focus more on community than I would expect.  What of Umbril wanting to die alone and not be used this way?  Or even not wanting to take part in the creation of the next generation through fertilization?

I like the undead Umbril.  It could be good for a game and it makes some amount of sense for these people.


That's it for now.  I'll come back and continue later.  Maybe even after you have responded to this round.

Quote from: Ninja D!The one thing I dislike about your layout is the heavy use of spoiler blocks.  I understand that you're probably just not wanting it to look like a wall of text but I'm still not a fan of this method.  Also, why are the spoiler sections separated so much?

My question is simple : Why is this so?  Do the Umbril see themselves not only as different and apart from all other races because they, in fact, are?  Or do they see themselves this way because this is how you see them?  Certainly they are different from 'normal' races.  Then again, I know nothing of any of the other races of your world and so I do not know what is 'normal' there.[/quote]Since you seem to place so much focus on Umbril being 'different', why are they humanoid?  Even if that focus were not there, why would fungal beings ever end up being humanoid?  Did their gods make them this way?  That doesn't seem likely.  Have you even considered this?  Does it even matter to you?[/quote]4. Language Wait, Umbril have gills?  That should really be mentioned in the Physiology entry.  I don't fully understand why they have them, though.  Perhaps you could explain?  You've done well to explain what it is like for an Umbril to communicate.[/quote]The way you approach death for the Umbril as a kind of fading away is interesting.  It could be terrifying to outsiders or it could seem ideal and peaceful.  I also like that they are used to fertilize the next generation when they die.  This, however, seems to focus more on community than I would expect.  What of Umbril wanting to die alone and not be used this way?  Or even not wanting to take part in the creation of the next generation through fertilization?[/quote]healthy[/i] Umbril out in the Jungle by itself will almost certainly be eaten.  Like most creatures, Umbril usually want to end their lives among friends and familiar things, and once they're dead, they don't have much say in whether they get used for fertilizer or not.

There's also a certain religious element to it.  Most Umbril hope to join the consciousness of the Eternal Mycelium upon their death, the community of all fungi, and choosing to spite their own community by removing themselves from the "cycle of life" might jeopardize that.

The Umbril - what a great name by the way - are incredibly refreshing: a fantasy race that's not just a random elf or dwarf with an adjective tacked on or an anthropomorphized animal (not that there's anything wrong with anthropomorphic animals, there's just a lot of them running around).  Your attention to detail is really commendable, particularly stuff like the photograph (I notice a similarity to the Saffron Moss photograph... a common source?) and the recreation and food sections, and the Machiavellian undertones to Umbril politics - too many authors and world-builders simply focus on "this is what it looks like, this is how it fights," whereas you've really fleshed out the species properly.  They sort of read like a cross between Vandermeer's Grey Caps and the Byzantine Empire, yet totally different from either at the same time, and utterly original.  I did notice there's not much on Umbril magic - is it tied to their religious structure?  The hints of predominant necromancy is tantalizing.

I definitely like this setting more generally, particularly the overgrown ruins and juxtopositions of high and low technology.  The Saffron Peril is a really compelling antagonist.

Incidentally, the Black Clay epic really appeals to me.  Have you read the Gormenghast books?  I only ask because the protagonist of Black Clay reminds me heavily of Steerpike, the Machiavellian anti-hero who rises from the position of weak servant to master of ritual and finally apotheosizes as demonic adversary.

Quote from: SteerpikeThe Umbril - what a great name by the way - are incredibly refreshing: a fantasy race that's not just a random elf or dwarf with an adjective tacked on or an anthropomorphized animal (not that there's anything wrong with anthropomorphic animals, there's just a lot of them running around).

literally[/i] big mushrooms with hands, feet and eyes.  Seriously.  Nothing about them made any sense to me - they were the most boring species imaginable who (a direct quote) "just want to be left alone" and loathed all non-fungal life.  Their life was essentially limitless bland drudgery based on ironclad schedules, and even leadership was considered a burden, causing me to wonder why the whole race hadn't turned to suicide yet.  Even their ecology made no sense - they were fungi, who lived off a diet of fungi.  Fungi are decomposers, but I'll be damned if there was any indication of what it is they decomposed, stuck as they were in the plant-less Underdark.  Certainly their designers didn't seem to care, and I couldn't for the life of me see a PC caring much about them either.

I entirely rejected this as lame, useless, and implausible when I first read through the 2nd ed manual, and forgot about them.  When I started work on TCJ - maybe a decade later - it occured to me that a fungal species might be a good choice for a rainforest environment.  I recalled the Myconid, actually broke out my 2nd ed MM to read their entry again, and endeavored to make an "anti-Myconid," a fungal race that made sense and had vitality, character, and real interactions with others.  My hope is that I've steered clear of the "Myconid gimmick" and made something that players would be interested to have as PCs, friends, and enemies.

QuoteYour attention to detail is really commendable, particularly stuff like the photograph (I notice a similarity to the Saffron Moss photograph... a common source?)

I did notice there's not much on Umbril magic - is it tied to their religious structure?  The hints of predominant necromancy is tantalizing.[/quote]Incidentally, the Black Clay epic really appeals to me.  Have you read the Gormenghast books?  I only ask because the protagonist of Black Clay reminds me heavily of Steerpike, the Machiavellian anti-hero who rises from the position of weak servant to master of ritual and finally apotheosizes as demonic adversary.[/quote]
I haven't heard of those.  The Black Clay basically serves as a way to show players and GMs what kind of person the Umbril consider a hero, and in so doing help illustrate their values.  No Umbril epic would be complete without some ambiguity, however, and The Black Clay also has a subversive subtext to it - the main character is assassinated at the end, so was there ultimately a point to all that subterfuge and deception the character is lauded for?

I love this setting so much. Really, its the best one i've seen on here. But its been up for a while and there hasn't been any stats {other then the races} introduced. Tip: If you are planning on righting out the stats for the cogs, make it a template, so it can be applied to any animal or race.

Also-you mentioned that the Umbril have gills? What are they used for other then creating sounds? and if they are only used for creating sounds, why are they called gills?

Quote from: DrizztrocksI love this setting so much. Really, its the best one i've seen on here. But its been up for a while and there hasn't been any stats {other then the races} introduced. Tip: If you are planning on righting out the stats for the cogs, make it a template, so it can be applied to any animal or race.

Also-you mentioned that the Umbril have gills? What are they used for other then creating sounds? and if they are only used for creating sounds, why are they called gills?[/quote]
The folds that mushrooms store their spores in are called gills.  Umbril gills also store their spores, but the Umbril can also blow air through them, which they use to expel spore clouds and create speech.

[ic=Exerpt, the Mainspring Analects]Lacking roots, trunk, or leaves,
The tree is incomplete, and perishes.
Lacking pendulum, spring, or escapement,
The clock is a motionless ruin.
Lacking prod, tiller, or rack,
The crossbow is a mere cudgel.

As all these things, Society,
Which without any one component
Is disharmonious and lost.[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/iskiteborder.jpg)


The Iskite philosopher Akusash once observed that the great success of the Iskites in a hostile world was due to the fact that they alone knew their place in it.  While some sentient species believe they must act in harmony with nature, the Iskites are widely known for seeking their own harmony in opposition to their surroundings: one can respect the Forest, even be awed by it, and still consider it an adversary and a rival.  It would be a mistake to define all of Iskite society based on the perceptions of outsiders and the musings of eccentric philosophers, but it can be quite informative for the initiate into Iskite culture to view it as the story of a people focused on building their own ordered reality in a place that mercilessly imposes its own wild and riotous order on all things.

[spoiler=Physiology]Iskites are tall and lithe reptiles.  They usually move as bipeds, but run fastest when on all fours.  Females are generally larger than males, though the differences between the sexes are not dramatic.  An adult female stands about seven feet tall and weighs around 200 pounds; an adult male is perhaps three inches shorter and 10-20 pounds lighter.  Despite their thin frames, they are notoriously resilient.

Iskites have scaly skin all over their bodies.  The scales on their back and legs are large and stiff, while their scales elsewhere are small and as supple as a mammal's skin.  Their scales are a pastiche of greens, ranging from very dark to very light, with no particular pattern '" this is very beneficial to them in the jungle, where they can easily hide from dangerous creatures.

Iskites are renowned for their great durability and resistance to harm.  They heal quickly, and given time and nourishment can recover from grievous injuries and even regrow limbs.  Their bodies do not scar; not even acid can permanently disfigure them (though it hurts them like any other creature).  It is virtually impossible to permanently cripple an Iskite.

Like many creatures of the understory, Iskite vision has adapted for low-light conditions, but their sight (though good) is not their strongest sense.  Their hearing is above average, and their sense of smell is extremely keen.  This is important not only to movement and detection, but also to basic communication; the Iskite language is vocal, but is also accompanied by a variety of pheromones '" undetectable to most creatures '" reflecting the Iskite's health, emotional state, and position in society.  An Iskite can discern the identity of another Iskite it has met before with a high degree of accuracy even when deaf and blind.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Language]As mentioned, Iskite language is largely verbal, but pheromones play an important role in conveying subtle shades of meaning.  An Iskite finds it difficult to convey humor, irony, sarcasm, pathos, or innuendo without these cues, which has led to the perception among other sentients that they are humorless or overly literal.  A non-Iskite can certainly learn Iskite languages and achieve a high degree of fluency, but will never approach the ability of a 'native speaker' for this reason.  Iskites have compared speaking their language without olfactory cues to speaking in an all-verbal language in a monotone.

During the Age of Prophets (usually called the Time of Luminaries by Iskites), instant magical communication between villages led to the development of a 'universal' Iskite language, known as the 'Luminous Tongue.'  Though the Tongue as such was spoken widely only by the magically-empowered elite of Iskite society, it influenced local Iskite languages to the point where, by the end of the era, most Iskite languages were really dialects of the same speech.  Some drift has occurred since then, though there is still a great deal of shared vocabulary, especially words that were common to the old scholarly elite (terms regarding magic, philosophy, mathematics, and time, among others).  Iskite leaders made a conscious effort to consolidate their worldwide culture during the Age of Prophets, and the effects of this policy remain even today, as demonstrated by their surprisingly homogenous culture (given the vast physical separation of their settlements) and the similarities in their languages.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Life Cycle]Iskites are oviparous '" they lay eggs, which hatch after six months of development.  Iskites raise their young communally.  Every village is centered around a Hatchery, where eggs are laid, stored, monitored, and eventually hatched.  These hatcheries are built with furnaces, vents, and hollow floors (which are filled with heated air) to keep the eggs warm.
 
Iskites have no concept of the 'family,' and biological heredity has no expression in their society.  Instead, an Iskite's life is rigidly controlled by the village, which sets quotas on how many eggs are to be laid, what the sex ratio should be, and how many eggs will be given to each trade and occupation.  The parentage of eggs is not recorded '" an ancient saying of the Iskites is 'Kinship is repugnant to Order' '" and no Iskite knows whom its biological parents are.  Hatchlings spend the first six years of their life in communal education, which teaches them the basics of speech and cultural mores.  At this point, the profession that they will follow for the rest of their life is chosen, based on the village quotas and supported by observations of a hatchling's likes, dislikes, character, and season of birth (certain seasons are thought to be auspicious for certain professions).  Changing professions is very rare, though not without precedent.  Young Iskites are raised by a 'Guide,' an older Iskite who shares their own profession, typically of the same sex as the child.

In Iskite society, there is no age of majority, though an Iskite is physically mature at around age 20.  Instead, 'adulthood' is defined by one's proficiency in one's own profession.  An Iskite produces a work of fine craftsmanship or great beauty (and/or utility), called a Flowerwork (alluding to the Iskite 'blooming' into adulthood), to demonstrate his/her right to be considered an adult.  If this is accepted by the other members of the Iskite's profession, the Iskite becomes an adult member of the community, ceases to have a Guide, and becomes eligible to be a Guide to another young Iskite.  Iskites do not actually use terms analogous to 'child' and 'adult,' but rather 'pupil' and 'master.'

An Iskite female who reaches adulthood gains the right to accept the duty of mating.  When the village rulers call for new eggs, she may volunteer.  This is considered to be a great honor, and various methods are used to determine who will bear the village's children.  These can range from athletic competitions to feats of memory, demonstrations of excellence in one's profession, competitions of fasting and asceticism, and even games of strategy.  Most of the time, some combination of intellectual, physical, and artistic challenges is used.  Every village has its own customs and practices for this selection.  If chosen, a volunteer has the right to mate, which she must exercise within a set period (usually several months).  She may choose her mate, though a male must also be willing.  Sometimes, a chosen female may leave the village entirely to find a mate in another community if the local males are not to her liking.  Once a chosen female mates and bears her eggs, they are surrendered to the community hatchery.  Laying eggs does not preclude a female from being chosen for mating again, so some particularly strong and intelligent females can have numerous offspring while less capable females may have few or even none.  There is strong competition among females for the privilege, and equally strong competition among males to be chosen by the fortunate females.

Eggs laid outside this communal framework are usually rejected by the village.  Such outcasts are shunned by most Iskites, and are usually never accepted as 'real' Iskites.  Raised outside the ordered Iskite community, they frequently feel little in common with their kin and may resent the Iskite people for their own rejection.  So-called 'rogue Iskites' can occasionally be found in Gheen dreys, Umbril colonies, or among a Tahr blood.

Iskites do not lose any mental acuity as they age, though they do become increasingly lethargic and slow-moving.  When they are no longer capable of performing their craft, they become Grandmasters, who preside over their fellow craftsmen in an advisory role.  Having mastered their profession, attended to their communal duties, and (hopefully) fulfilled their mating prerogative, they are happy to loaf and dispense sage wisdom between frequent naps (which become more and more frequent until their eventual death, when they fall asleep for the last time).

The oldest known Iskite was 162 years old at her death.  Typical Iskite lifespan is between 100 and 140 years for females; on average, they outlive males by about 10 years.  The lethargy begins to set in around 90 years of age, though Iskites have been known to occasionally live for decades past their centennial before retiring and becoming Grandmasters.  In general, a peaceful death after more than a century of life is considered 'natural.'  Given the dangers of disease and violent death in the jungle, however, average life expectancy is significantly less than 100.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Society]Iskite society is strictly regimented.  An Iskite's life is defined by duty to the community, and duties are dictated through a strict code of social mores and relationships.  Iskites would not call their structure hierarchical, but rather 'harmonious' '" all know their place, and each member of society is essential to its harmonious functioning.  By their very nature, Iskites seek to understand their place in any group they are in, and serve their superiors as zealously as they command their inferiors.  They are very sensitive to the cues of rank, and their culture is based around a bewildering array of gestures, vocal tones, and pheromones that convey actual and perceived status.  They reflexively expect outsiders to understand these cues and behave the way they do, and are sometimes put off when they do not '" Iskites are considered chauvinistic, arrogant, and pigheaded by those of other races.  They are, however, hard workers who judge others based on their merits and abilities.  They prize thoughtful, rational action and have a sense of loyalty to their betters and compassion towards their lessers (though this compassion is often a bit patronizing).

Status in Iskite society is generally meritocratic.  The two most important selection procedures, the selection of mating individuals and the selection of the village's elders, both rely on tests and consensus based on an individual's skill, ability, and talent.  As with most meritocracies, it is not perfectly so, and favoritism of one kind or another often rears its head.  The Iskites are unique, however, in that they have totally expunged the concepts of family, kinship, and inheritance from their culture, so nepotism and status based on lineage or family are totally nonexistent.  As a result, Iskites have difficulty understanding the logic behind such concepts as a hereditary aristocracy, and are contemptuous towards those who claim special status because of their birth.  The hereditary monarchies of the Gheen, in particular, combine the two ideas most loathed by Iskites '" heredity and nobility '" and the Iskites see them as tyrannical and repulsive political throwbacks.

What is not often said is that things have not always been the way they are now.  It is written that the Iskites once lived in family units and raised 'Blood Lords' (LT: EzajwÉ Én tzul, 'ezajwuh un tzul,' 'great (one) assigned by blood') over them as semi-divine monarchs.  It is uncertain what caused the transition, as it happened such a long time ago; some say it was a rebellion against such rule, others maintain it was a gradual transition towards a more harmonious way of life.  The title does live on, though not among the Iskites '" the despotic Gheen 'World Queen,' Auk Yrta Su'u, rules through royal relatives whose title, 'tzulyk,' is borrowed from the Iskite word for blood.

Villages are usually ruled by elder council, composed of the most revered and accomplished Grandmasters.  In times of great crisis, councils may appoint an interim lord, a sort of 'temporary dictator,' who is granted total authority for a preset period of time.  Iskites are unique in that they were the only sentient race to ever achieve something like a unified world government '" during the Time of Luminaries, there was a 'Grand Authority,' a council of Grandmasters from nearly every community that used remote communication to guide the entire race.  The actual power of this institution, however, was always largely theoretical, and even with magical communication it is doubtful if communities ever had any real loyalty to the Authority.

At any rate, the Authority is consigned to the history books now.  It lingers on only in the formal assertions of legitimacy by various elder councils, some of whom still keep weathered scrolls of official recognition given by the Authority in that bygone age.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Habitat]Iskites favor fairly simple architecture from wood and stone; they are not as austere as the Umbril, but are nowhere near the baroque ostentation of Gheen design.  Their villages are carved out of the forest, arranged in rectangular, circular, or even other polygonal shapes.  The Hatchery occupies the center of the typical village, surrounded in turn by public buildings and temples, residence blocks, and finally the village's fields.  Iskites do not separate their residence from their work, usually living in large one or two story blockhouses that combine living quarters, dining halls, and workshops.  Typically each profession has its own buildings, though some minor professions share amongst each other.

Iskites meticulously deforest their living areas.  Because the Forest grows so quickly, this is a job that must be continually performed.  During the Time of Luminaries, magic was often used to accomplish this; in the present time, work shifts are utilized.  Powerful Iskite villages often keep slaves, and clearing trees and brush is a common way to employ them.

Nearly every Iskite village also has a clock tower, sometimes as a part of the Hatchery, which Iskites use to meticulously plan their activities and give their days structure.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Warfare]Iskite villages are organized to resist attack.  Depending on the size and prosperity of the village, it may have timber palisades, stone walls, earthen ditches and embankments, and even towers with light artillery pieces atop them.  These static defenses are complimented by a warrior 'guild.'  Fighting is just another profession to the Iskites, like weaving or printing, and every village has its own 'barracks' just as other professions have their blockhouses.

Iskites are not especially strong and cannot climb trees with great nimbleness, so they stress armor and range when combat must be joined.  Iskite warriors favor heavy arbalests and metal armor of plate and scale.  In close combat, halberds are a common sight, as well as any other weapon useful in the specific situation they find themselves in.  Iskites like standardization and villages often have uniform codes for armor, clothing, and weapons, which can range from specific 'village colors' and symbols to identical sets of military regalia.

Iskite medicine and surgery are not terribly advanced, primarily because Iskites themselves are so durable.  Iskites use poisons and disease-contaminated weapons when available, taking advantage of their superior constitutions to protect them from accidents.  As Iskites can regrow limbs and rarely succumb to their wounds, they prefer to retreat rather than fight a close battle; they would rather suffer a tactical defeat with few deaths than a hard-fought victory with high losses, as even badly wounded Iskites will eventually be fit for duty again.  Though Iskite tactics tend to be straightforward and sometimes rather unimaginative, they will use trickery when the situation allows; they scoff at the idea of 'honor' in battle, as to them it is an irrational impediment in the way of the objective (destroying the enemy).[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Art and Music]The Iskite sensitivity to subtle social cues makes them very perceptive observers (or perhaps it's the other way around), and Iskites have a vast and rich artistic culture.  They are capable of appreciating the subtle gradations of color in a painting or the sublime mathematical progressions of a piece of music for hours '" but only when there's no work to be done.

Iskite art is not always very imaginative, but it is usually colorful and expertly done.  The Iskites value art that reflects order and harmoniousness, and dislike pieces that are chaotic or confusing.  Nuance is fine and appreciated; purposeful vagueness is not.  Iskites do not view art casually and like to have time to really examine and 'experience' a work of art.  Painting is the most common kind of Iskite art, and the Iskites eagerly trade with outsiders for paints and pigments that aren't normally available to them.  The Iskites find excessive displays of wealth distasteful but do like to share things they like with others, and will put up valued paintings or other pieces of art where they can be enjoyed by many.

Of all the civilized races, the Iskites have the widest variety of musical instruments.  They enjoy and will play almost anything, but are especially fond of strings and percussion.  It should not come as any surprise that Iskites prefer their music to be ordered and harmonious.  Their desire for harmony, however, should not be interpreted as a desire for simplicity; the Iskites greatly enjoy complex art and music and aren't afraid to challenge themselves.  The Iskites use multiple tonal scales and complex polyphonies, and utilize a system of written musical notation distinct from their alphabet.  They usually enjoy music in stillness, but some villages have dances with defined, ordered steps to be performed with musical accompaniment.  Some dances are bipedal, some are quadrupedal, and some alternate between the two "stances."

To an Iskite, fine smells are also an art, and they can enjoy tastefully crafted incenses like others enjoy a melodious song.  Males and females both use perfumes and like to accent particular rooms, objects, or spaces with scents they deem appropriate.  Smells they deem rich and complex are usually thought of as overwhelming by others, for though their sense of smell is very keen, they also have a very high threshold of what they consider to be 'too strong.'[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Food]Iskites grow most of their food.  The chief staple is sallowroot (similar to cassava), which is used rather like potatoes.  Other staples include pipevine (ground to make flour), sugar cane, and bask melon (a pulpy, slightly sour multipurpose fruit).  This is supplemented by a wide array of fruit, nuts, and herbs.  Iskites greatly enjoy complex aromas, and consider spices to be staples, not luxuries.  Iskite food is heavily spiced, to the point where other races tend to find it oppressively strong or even inedible.  The Iskites themselves are quick to point out that there is a difference between a properly spiced dish and one carelessly enhanced, but that only they can appreciate the difference.  Iskites tend to find foreign food bland.

Iskites supplement their diets with wild game, as well as the meat and eggs of a domesticated flightless bird called a Saszih (LT: (s')aszI, derived from (s')ass, meaning 'feather').  Hunting expeditions are carried out by a village's warriors when they are not otherwise engaged.

The Iskites consider excessive drinking to be a vice, but as long as alcohol does not obstruct one's communal duties it is permitted.  One of the most well-known Iskite products is 'Iskite Rum' (also called 'spice rum' or 'pepperwine'), a strong beverage distilled from sugar cane and '" as one might expect from the Iskites '" heavily spiced.  It is not the only strong drink made by Iskite villages, but it is the most common, widespread, and well known.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Recreation]Laziness is anathema to the Iskites, and they have a culturally inculcated aversion to idleness.  They approach their recreation like they do their profession, with dedication and a desire for excellence.  Many Iskites learn to master an instrument (or more than one), and play with others during their free time or on days of worship or celebration.

The Iskites do play games of strategy, and such games sometimes form part of their process of mating selection.  The origins of many of these games can be traced to the Umbril, though Iskites prefer to play games in serious, focused silence (unlike the Umbril practice of ruthlessly mocking one's opponent).  Games are only considered worthwhile if they demonstrate some skill of cunning or intellect; otherwise, they are just a waste of time '" though some still indulge in idle games of chance, especially older Iskites, who tend to have a more flexible view of what is 'worthwhile' as they approach the end of their lives.  Grandmasters in particular, having retired from their profession, are permitted to do many things that society would frown upon a mere Master (or pupil) doing.

Many Iskites also enjoy tinkering with technology in their free time, even if they aren't atillators or clockmakers by trade.  Iskites have embraced technology and actively seek to promote the efficiency of their village through its use.

The Iskites invented the printing press and they remain its most common users, though the majority of writing is still done by hand.  The Iskites enjoy the highest rate of literacy of any race, and may print notices and thought-provoking excerpts from their greatest works of philosophy to circulate among a village's population.  Most villages keep small libraries of poetry, speeches, and philosophic texts for general perusal.

An Iskite may occasionally use drugs, but the Iskite world view is generally that harmony is to be found in the real world, not in transcending the real or achieving a higher state of consciousness.  Again, this is something that is more common among Grandmasters than among younger Iskites.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Religion]The Iskites approach religion in a practical manner '" they expect reciprocity from their gods, and look for omens to ascertain whether their gods are favoring them.  If a village feels that its patrons do not bestow their power in exchange for the rites and offerings they are due, they often will switch to other powers or pantheons.  The Iskite culture generally leaves the question of 'How should I live?' to philosophy rather than religion, which deals with the ritual acquisition of supernatural power for the community.  There is no 'Iskite Pantheon,' and Iskite villages tend to fall under a wide and diverse array of cults, monster-worship, and even the worship of other races' deities '" after all, if the god makes the harvest good, who cares where it's from?

The priesthood is a respected Iskite profession, but Iskite priests are 'priests of the village' rather than priests of a specific god or power.  They act as intermediaries between the divine and the village, as a sort of 'sacred negotiating team' that lets the rest of the village know what rites, sacrifices, rituals, feasts, and so on should be conducted to ensure the village's prosperity and strength.  Participation in these rituals is a civic obligation, as failure to do so endangers the livelihood of the village.  Those that refuse to take part in the exercise of civil religion are branded as apostates and usually exiled.

The worship of Ishengetz (LT: IshEngetz, 'ISH-eng-ayts,' 'the one who will know') was once extremely widespread throughout the Iskite world.  As the goddess of time, divination, rulership, foresight, and planning, she was the principal deity of Iskite diviners and a much admired and respected figure among Iskites throughout the known world.  The Orange Strife annihilated her following, with the ruling classes being slain or driven insane and the rest of the Iskite people abandoning her worship afterwards.  Some maintain that she was a puppet of the Peril all along, or even a face of the Peril itself.  Most Iskites do not speak of her any more.[/spoiler]
[note=Adventurers]I thought it would be useful to add an "adventurers" section to give possible origins and backstories for PCs; after all, different races may come by the adventuring lifestyle in different ways.[/note]
[spoiler=Adventurers]Iskite communities frown on their members striking out on their own.  The village is a finely-balanced machine, and the loss of any component may adversely affect everyone.

The elders attempt to keep the population of the village to manageable levels, but a crop blight or disaster can easily threaten the village's food supply.  In such cases, sometimes a group of Iskites volunteers (or, failing that, is selected) to leave the village and find their fortunes elsewhere.  This is always a hard decision to make, but those who volunteer to leave are honored as heroes of the community.  They are welcome to come back once the situation has stabilized, usually in a few years, but some choose to stay out in the Jungle or visit other lands.

Though the Iskites are naturally inclined towards order, they are not drones and have varying levels of commitment to their society and its rules.  Some simply find their communities too stifling, and may decide to leave despite the stigma given to those who abandon their villages.  They will likely not be allowed to return.

Finally, some Iskite adventurers are proper 'rogue Iskites,' those who were born outside the normal mating structure and the sanction of the elders.  They are not welcome in their communities and, if they survive, often find another people to live among, or become wanderers.  They may take a rather dim view of Iskite society.  Rogue Iskites are not very common, but one tends to remember them.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Relations]The Iskites have a rather paradoxical view of others.  On the one hand, they view themselves as superior beings with a uniquely enlightened culture; on the other, they are strongly inclined towards practical and level-headed judgment, and a desire to measure others by their worth.  They prefer to keep other peoples at arm's length, fearing that they could become corrupted by the chaos and barbarity of other societies, but deal openly and honestly with those that wish to trade with them.

The Iskites find in the Gheen much that they despise, and treat the race as a whole with scorn even if they see some worth in individual Gheen.  The aesthetics, politics, society, and personality of the Gheen offend them on a visceral level.  It would be impossible to list all the ways in which the Iskite and Gheen ways of life are antithetical to each other.  Though they often engage in trade with the Gheen, they see this as a regrettable necessity, and would prefer to never see them again.  Except for the material goods they offer, most Iskites see nothing valuable or worth preserving in Gheen culture, and see the Gheen themselves as little more than shiftless primitives whose 'civilization' is a pretentious façade over fundamental barbarism.  Often the Iskites will admit only grudgingly that the khauta was a Gheen invention.  Iskite-Gheen wars are the most common flavor of inter-species conflicts in the Clockwork Jungle (keeping in mind that wars in general are fairly rare), especially those between the World-Queen and the various Iskite leagues that opposed or continue to oppose her.

The Iskites view the Umbril with some suspicion; they respect their culture and its noted similarities to their own, but think of the Umbril and their civilization as inherently corrupted by the chaotic taint of the Forest in which they dwell.  The Iskites find the Umbril to be conniving, greedy, grasping, and deceitful, constantly desirous of whatever they don't have and retaining few scruples when it comes to getting it.  The Iskites have confidence in their ability to restrain these unfortunate aspects when dealing with them, however, and often maintain good trading relations with Umbril colonies.  The Fishers (see 'Ussik,' below) are especially close with the Umbril colonies of the Wash, and the region has resisted the armies of the World-Queen in large part because of an enduring Umbril-Ussik military alliance called the League of the Waterfall.  Only in Netai, home of the more expansionist Evne-Umbril, do the Iskites and Umbril come into regular armed conflict.  Rogue Iskites seem to prefer to join Umbril colonies over dreys or bloods.

The Iskites are rather dismissive of the Tahro; they do not find their culture offensive as they do the Gheen, but do not consider them to have a 'civilization' as such '" to the Iskites, civilization means sedentary settlement and life in opposition to nature, the victory of reason and technology over instinct and environment.  The Tahro seek to live in the Forest rather than against it, which leads the Iskites to conclude that they are either weak-willed or simply not that smart (or both).  The Iskites are happy to trade with Tahr bloods that roam near their villages, but the two races sometimes come into conflict when the Iskites settle inadvertently upon a blood's seasonal camp.  What the Iskites call 'settling' the Tahro call 'destroying,' and wars have erupted as a result.  The Iskites argue that no land can said to be truly owned if the owner only camps there temporarily, and in any case believe that they make more 'use' of the land than the Tahro do, which entitles them to it as a matter of course.  Some Iskite villages, finding Tahr slaves to be particularly valuable, raid bloods for captives.  Where such conflicts are avoided, the two races usually coexist peaceably and bother each other very little.

As their society even throws out native-born Iskites who were born outside the traditions of the village, it is totally unheard of for an outsider to ever be accepted into Iskite society.  Occasionally an exiled Umbril or wandering Tahr will be allowed to settle in a village, but they are expected to provide for themselves and are treated like permanent guests rather than a part of the village.  Iskites are not unkind to their guests, but they are always suspicious that outsiders are only interested in leeching off the village's prosperity.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Varieties]The Iskites differ slightly in coloration and stature depending on what region they are from, but in general they are a rather homogenous people.

The 'Ussik' (LT: ÉssIkIszkÉs', 'Ussik-iskites,' literally 'tail Iskites,' but also called s'wEjÉ, 'S'wejuh,' meaning 'fishers'), are a semi-aquatic branch of the Iskite race substantially different from the rest of their kinsmen.  The Fishers have a more brownish-green coloration and have longer, more powerful tails with a flat, paddle-like 'fin' on the end, and slight webbing between their digits.  They are not amphibians and cannot breathe water, but they practice intensive fishing and aquaculture rather than agriculture.  They are almost entirely restricted to the Wash.  The Ussik share the Iskite love of order but never abandoned heredity, and organize their society in extended families.  They raise children communally at first, but then return them to their families for vocational training rather than using the Iskite system of guides.  'Proper' Iskites treat them like primitives, which they greatly resent, and as a result the Fishers tend to get along better with their Umbril neighbors.  They are more tolerant of individuals striking out on their own, and Ussik are over-represented among Iskite adventurers and explorers.

Though everyone knows about 'rogue Iskites,' there are rumors of bands or even entire villages of Iskite exiles who live in forgotten ruins or isolated mountain ranges, far from their common kinsmen, with societies radically different from the Iskite norm.  The Iskites prefer to believe that such rumors are just nonsense or lies spread by outsiders to make them look bad.[/spoiler]

I love the detail you've given to the Iskites. I like how you've seemingly taken a very simple, almost D&D-tropish concept - "Lawful-aligned lizardfolk" - and fleshed it out into a living, breathing and above all unique people without a trace of gimmickery to their individuality.

[ic=The Cave of Song]Ketzaj forced back a howl of anguish.  Pain is the refuge of the undisciplined mind, she thought, the words of the Analects coming back to her unbidden, impressed upon her mind before she had even left the shell.

'Pain'¦' She inhaled sharply, and spouted the rest of the line through clenched teeth.  ''¦is the refuge of the undisciplined mind.  The Masterful One sheds pain like old scales.'  She repeated it under her breath, over and over, as if the mere words were a balm.

She forced her eyes to open.  She was in a dark and unfamiliar place, and her eyes only slowly began to peel back the shadows as they grew accustomed to the sudden change.  A moment before, she had been walking on the surface, and it had been morning.  Then, there was a sudden fall, and '" I've fallen into a pit, she thought.  She reached out and gingerly touched her right leg, then recoiled abruptly, pain shooting up her thigh.  I've fallen into a pit, and my leg is broken.

Yet as her surroundings slowly revealed themselves to her, it became clear that this was no mere pit.  She was in a proper cavern, a natural one by the look of it.  It was only dimly illuminated by the hole in the ceiling that had brought her here, but she could still make out the gleaming formations of the cave.  Limestone shields dripping with delicate stalactites jutted up from the smooth, pearly floors.  Water softly trickled down the near wall, which looked like a frothing waterfall that had been frozen into place in an instant.  The water in the cave all collected near the center, and from there ran in a wide and shallow ribbon into the deeper reaches of the cave, where even her now-accustomed eyes saw only blackness.  She reflexively looked up at the ceiling, shielding her eyes with her tail '" Kuens lived in caves like these.  But none of those 'Night Terrors' hung from the irregular cave ceiling, nor any bats at all.  In the meantime, at least, she seemed to be out of danger.

But there was the long term to consider.  Her leg would eventually heal, but she would certainly starve down here before then.  If this was a pit, she would likely be doomed, but a cave might have other entrances, places where she could crawl out even with her leg the way it was.  It occurred to her that any cave with such an entrance would probably already be inhabited.  Eternal eye bless me, she thought, hoping for a sliver of divine favor.

As she considered how best to construct a splint from her supplies, her mind abruptly turned to food.  This puzzled Ketzaj; she had eaten only an hour ago.  She did not feel hungry now, yet the thought was impossible to dismiss.  It grew more insistent '" not a need for nourishment, but a strange desire to eat, to tear into a carcass, blood streaming down moist skin and mingling with the cave waters, each drop resonating as it fell upon the limestone, her fellows gathered about to share in the '"

She inhaled with a hiss and felt her chest tighten, too shocked to exhale.  Shapes '" long and glistening '" materialized out of the darkness.  They crawled close to the ground, the cave-dwellers, and as they moved into the half-light she could see the muscles moving beneath their membranous skin.  Their bodies were pinkish and pale, the only details being darkish spots where eyes had every right to be, and dark purple frills behind their head that twisted and wiggled of their own accord.

Ketzaj cried out, her face contorted in unreasoning horror.  Images filled her mind, fell waking dreams of consuming herself, in which she was both devourer and devoured.  She could feel their hunger and taste her own flesh in her mouth.  Her scales crawled with the sensation of her own warm blood flowing freely from her gnashing teeth.  The Analects were forgotten as their thoughts invaded her mind.  Her cry turned to a hoarse croak, and an intense feeling of claustrophobia seized her.  The walls were closing in.  Her body, stained with the illusory taint of self-cannibalism, felt as heavy as stone.  Life fell away, reason fell away, hope suffocated within the constricting cavern.  There was nothing left but a pitiful scaled creature, curled into a ball, shivering in abject despair.  She did nothing as a dozen of the creatures closed around her, bone-white tongues flicking in and out of mouths ringed with tiny, sharp teeth.

A thought entered her mind, as if by sudden inspiration, but it was not her thought.

It is a lightling.

The creatures were silent, but their whole conversation sprouted in her mind as if born there.

A scaled lightling.  A metal-wearer.

It is alone.

It is alone.  Food.

The images of self-devouring filled her head again, and she let out an involuntary whine, ignored by the creatures around her.

Food.

Food.

No.  The songs of the metal-wearers.

Songs'¦

Abruptly, the nightmare of despair and vile hunger vanished like dew on a wyrm's wings.  Instead, she heard music, deep drums and warbling flutes, in a cacophonous tangle.  It was not one tune or another that entered her mind; it was music, the idea itself, the desire for sound and rhythm.  It was a thousand ages of singers and musicians, their tones warped by rock and earth, heard in the skin and the bone.

Songs.  Music.

Music pleases me.

The song pleases me.

The music.

The scaled lightling will play for us.

Slowly, painfully, Ketzaj lifted her head and met their eyeless gaze.  Her voice was thin and shaky, but the creatures answered her before she even finished speaking.

'You'¦ you want me to pl-'

Play the music.

Sing the song.

It pleases us.  The scaled lightling will play for us.

Ketzaj swallowed, thinking of songs she knew, remembering the gourd-bow in her pack.

The lightling has a music-maker!

Their excitement became her excitement, and it dulled the pain in her leg and the fear she still had of these creatures and their dark domain.  What should she play?

A song of the World of Light.[/ic]


Over time, I hope to introduce the other denizens of the Clockwork Jungle.  Some are just as intelligent (or more so) than the four civilized races, though for varying reasons, they have not developed what we would recognize as civilization, or simply have environments or minds to alien to truly be compatible with the 'protagonists' of the campaign world.  A few of them, including the Golhai (who you have just met) are described in brief below.

Golha

The Golhai ('cave dwellers' in Marou Tahr) are intelligent stygobites (aquatic cave creatures) who rule in the darkest places of all, far from the realms of the other civilized races.  They resemble five foot long olms, with characteristic translucent, pinkish-beige skin.  They live most of their lives underground within the cave-riddled karst regions of the Forest, devouring cave fish and insects, as well as any other hapless creature that slips into their domain.  They rarely venture forth into the 'World of Light,' as they call it, unless food is scarce in their own domain.  Their eyes are nearly vestigial and not good for much, but they can pinpoint the location of a small insect with their supremely keen hearing.  The only sounds they make are rasping hisses, but they are also 'thought projectors.'  This is distinguished from telepathy in that their thoughts are not 'targeted' towards a single person; rather, they 'blast' their thoughts in such a way that all nearby can 'hear' them.  They are skilled readers of thoughts as well, and as a result conversations with them are unnerving, to say the least.  Such abilities are nearly unheard of among other races, even through magic, and because of this the Golhai are objects of fear and misunderstanding.  The Umbril especially are terrified of the Golhai, believing that when a Golha reads your mind, it steals part of your soul as well.  There are many wild rumors about the Golhai and their mental abilities, most of which are completely false.

The Golhai are quite intelligent and clearly have a society of their own, but it is too alien and remote to be comprehensible to others.  Other creatures rarely venture into the 'Worlds of Darkness' that the Golhai rule, and the Golhai in turn prefer to stay away from groups of 'lightlings.'  They are non-technological, using only simple (but well-crafted) bone tools and hunting weapons.  They are consummate carnivores and will devour nearly any animal that finds its way into their clutches, but they value music very highly and will usually spare a creature that plays for them (unless they are starving '" then they will probably devour the creature after the music is done).  Little of their culture is known, though it is said that they ritually devour the corpses of other Golhai and make their skin into drums.  One of the most eerie experiences a surface traveler can have is to hear the faint rumblings of the 'deep drums' as they pass over a cave-riddled landscape.  Nobody really knows what this drumming is meant to signal, if it has any meaning at all.  The Golhai want very little from lightlings and have little to offer in return, and in general make very little impression in the history of the surface.  They are most usually encountered alone while swimming up and down surface rivers, as this is the only way for them to get from one of their cave complexes to another.

Asheater

Asheaters are intelligent hexapedal animals that live exclusively within the High Plain.  The size of a water buffalo and (reputedly) ten times as strong, Asheaters would be the undisputed rulers of the Obsidian Plain if they had any desire to be.  They seem to lack even a modicum of aggression or ambition, and despite their apparent intelligence they desire nothing more than to wallow in searing hot springs or mudpots and contemplate their own thoughts.  Asheaters are exceptionally resilient, apparently unaffected by the smoke and poisonous gases of their home and covered in pebbly coal-colored hide that is impervious to most weapons and can even temporarily resist lava.  Asheaters consume only minerals; they lack a jaw, but instead have a prehensile, rasping tongue that secretes an extremely strong acid, dissolving choice minerals and allowing the Asheater to lap up the acid-mineral mixture.  This acid can dissolve most known substances, though the Asheaters themselves are unaffected by it.

Asheaters have a society, but not much is known about it.  Most simply ignore other creatures entirely, and can afford to since it is nearly impossible to hurt them.  They seem to roam over the landscape in small groups, and their only permanent colony is within the Blood Cauldrons, where between one and two hundred of them can be found at any one time.  They often make low, rumbling noises or sharp hissing sounds that might be speech, but nobody has ever decoded it.  When they wish to speak with other creatures (which is not common), they use their acid tongues to etch letters into the ground with surprising speed and accuracy.  They do not seem to have their own written language, but use a rather old-fashioned Yitati Gheen dialect (apparently because it is 'their favorite' of the languages they have encountered, though they have not said exactly why).  Asheaters simply do not answer questions that they do not care to answer, as they have no sense of 'rudeness' as it is understood by other races.  Nothing is known about their life cycle; their genders are unknown, they have never been observed mating, and no young Asheaters have ever been seen.  Asheaters will aid a sentient being in their presence in immediate peril, but will not go out of their way to help others.  They tend to wax philosophical about this, saying (or rather, writing), that all must die in their time.  Asheaters say they have names but that they are 'untranslatable.'

Kaerling

Kaerlings are vicious and loathsome carnivores who exist only to consume.  Their appearance is difficult to describe, but is best summarized as that of a somewhat pudgy, wingless bat standing about three feet at the shoulder.  They are possessed of an all-consuming hunger and will eat any living thing they can kill; if prey is unavailable, they will feast on carrion, and if that too is in short supply they will eat each other.  They have been known to occasionally break off an attack in order to devour their own wounded.  Kaerlings are only moderately dangerous as individuals, for though they possess very sharp claws and teeth, they are small and not especially strong.  When prey is found, however, they are usually quick to stop killing each other and cooperate to bring down the quarry (though once it is dead, they may come to blows again over the spoils).  Kaerling populations in an area frequently explode and then fall precipitously as travelers avoid the area and the Kaerlings butcher each other into near-oblivion.  Kaerlings have mediocre eyesight and rely heavily on smell and their excellent senses of hearing, which they exploit by ambushing prey at night or in other low-vision conditions.  They are possessed of a rudimentary intelligence and some degree of cunning, and communicate with a gibbering chatter of squeaks and trills.  They create nothing and use no weapons or tools.

It is uncertain how the species survives given their predilection for cannibalism.  If they have genders, it is not evident.  Kaerlings are often seen issuing forth from caves or empty lava tubes, leading many to suspect that they live at least part of their lives as cave-dwellers and reproduce there.  Little is known about them because few explorers are suicidal enough to go poking around in Kaerling warrens.  Others tell stories of monstrous Kaerling 'Queens' that live deep below the earth, and say that common Kaerlings are merely drones, like ants or bees.  Tales about their origin and purpose are legion in the communities that ring the Obsidian Plain.

It is not known why Kaerlings restrict themselves to the Plain.  Part of it may be because they are not socially stable on long journeys and do not last long before the group collapses into a cannibalistic frenzy.

Aras Tay

Denizens of other planes may be familiar with the 'usual' character of fey and nature spirits '" secretive, but beautiful and sublime, and often good (if slow to trust).  If a traveler to the Clockwork Jungle makes the mistake of thinking the Forest's fey are kind and gentle or merry pranksters, like nymphs and pixies, it may be the last mistake he makes.

The Aras Tay are the Clockwork Jungle's equivalent of fey, but they represent a different facet of nature.  They are spirits of the wilderness, 'red of tooth and claw,' embodying the savage ferocity and pitiless amorality of the natural world.  Nature is often unkind and always fickle, and they are no exception.  Aras Tay are universally quite intelligent, but communication with them is difficult.  They do not possess speech, and even if telepathy is used, their minds are quite alien to the average sentient creature '" they are quite single-minded, do not understand the emotions of most sentients, and do not understand the concepts of '˜right,' '˜wrong,' '˜good,' or '˜evil.'  One is born, eats, sleeps, and dies '" despite their intelligence, Aras Tay do not ascribe any higher moral purpose to life or existence.  Some say they are not really individual creatures at all, just pseudo-independent manifestations of the will of the Forest itself.

Aras Tay are divided into two broad categories, 'lesser' and 'greater.'  Greater Aras Tay are distinct individual entities; they have no types or races, as each one has its own unique form and abilities.  Some greater Aras Tay are powerful to the point where they are worshipped as gods.  They are not described here.  Instead, the bestiary lists a few of the more well-known lesser Aras Tay, who belong to one of several archetypes, much like a species of animal or plant.

Vangan
The 'Horned Spirits' of the Aras Tay can be found in nearly any part of the Forest.  They are graceful, yet muscular quadrupeds, with long forearms and short, thick back legs.  Their hide is like wooly tree-bark, and is studded with stubby horns.  Atop their plated necks are their fearsome heads, which look rather like a cross between a bear and a horse, but without any eyes or any trace of eye sockets.  Their heads are crowned with four broad antlers shaped like spiky-edged leaves.  Vangans are extremely dangerous creatures, as they will eat any living creature (or plant) and possess no fear of death.  Every Vangan has an acorn-like 'heart' the size of a human head within its chest; when it dies, this heart sinks into the Forest's fertile soil and grows a new Vangan underground, like a tuber.  Initially, its antlers are broad leaves, the only part of its body visible above the ground until it springs forth, fully grown, from the earth.  Vangans are known to travel in herds, and make their presence known by eerily harmonious baying that is audible for miles, as even the birds stop singing when the Horned Spirits begin their songs.  They are worshipped by the Tahro but do not seem to care; they do not seem to be concerned with other creatures unless they are hungry or their territory is entered.  Fiercely territorial, they will attack any creature they perceive as a threat (that is to say, most creatures larger than a rodent).

Axolt
'Axolt' (Ah-zolt)  means 'corpse-eater' in Holao Tahr.  Axolts are 'Decay Spirits,' embodying the process by which all things are eventually reclaimed by the Forest.  They look like corpulent, snaking grubs ringed with mottled brownish-black chitin.  Despite their pudgy, grotesque appearance, they are extremely quick and agile on their twenty-four three-toed insectile legs.  They are capable of climbing trees, though they prefer the thick decaying matter of the forest floor.  Axolts are voracious eaters who will consume anything dead with their powerful mandibles and toothy maw.  They will gladly dig up graves and feast on the contents, and the Umbril consider them dangerous pests (as Umbril also favor decaying food).  In part, their hunger is driven by their passengers '" an Axolt's insides are filled with millions of insects in permanent residence, which the Axolt expels in a stinging, choking cloud when threatened (or if their skin is pierced).  Axolts never stop growing until dead, and there are reports of mighty Decay Spirits the size of Crash Wyrms.  Despite their (deserved) reputation for filth, they are cherished by many sentient residents.  The Iskites value their excrement, which is a fertilizer of supernatural caliber, and the Gheen love to feast on the insects they inevitably carry with them.  Axolts (even the large ones) are naturally quite cowardly, and unless food is involved their first instinct is to flee from danger.  They do not distinguish between the dead and the undead, and perform a valuable service by attacking and consuming stray undead and the Abominations of the Saffron Moss (the Peril cannot affect them or any other Aras Tay).

Kuen
Kuens, also called 'Night Terrors' or 'Stalking Spirits,' are fearsome predators whose existences revolve around the hunt.  They somewhat resemble giant bats, but their bodies are nearly hairless and their blood-red faces are unearthly and terrifying, with five enormous, pupil-less eyes set around their powerful jaws.  They have multiple rows of sharp teeth, like a shark.  Kuens are active only at night, and during the day they wrap themselves in their wings and hang on large branches in secluded groves or caverns.  When night falls, they devote themselves entirely to the hunt.  A group of Kuens (for they always hunt in small groups) will select their prey and hunt it, night after night, until either the prey is killed or they are.  They are single-minded but intelligent, and have infinite patience '" they do not seem to need food regularly to survive.  They enjoy the chase more than the kill itself, and purposefully frighten and torment their prey for days or even weeks before finally killing it with a crushing bite that can easily shatter bone.  They cannot actually fly, but glide silently from tree to tree.  Their only utterance is a echoing, piercing screech that causes most creatures to feel nausea and physical pain.  Unless one is selected as prey, one has little to fear from these creatures, who will ignore anything that does not get between them and their quarry.  It is not known how or why they pick the prey they do, but they seem to usually pick intelligent creatures '" perhaps because intelligent creatures have more complex feelings of terror and fright.  The only way to escape their hunt is to kill the entire group; more commonly, sentient beings pursued by these horrors simply commit suicide rather than live in abject terror until the inevitable end.

I will post some more thorough comments later, but I must just say that I love the Bestiary - wonderfully bizarre and inventive.  I really think this is what world-building should be about, what fantasy should be about: not clinging to the comfy tropes of a nostalgic medieval past but boldly shattered, reinventing, and just plain ignoring those tropes in favor of fresh ideas.

The Ghola are really poignant and strikingly original.  The only comparison my incessantly comparison-making brain can come up with is the vortigaunts from Half-Life 2, not to say you even had those in mind at all when you created the Ghola, just that they remind me of the vorts in some ways.  I also am really impressed by the Axolt, to the point of jealousy that I didn't think of something like them first.

I've decided that further progression is going to be difficult without some kind of geographical frame of reference.  I had an idea in my head where everything is, but it's always better and more interesting when put to paper.  I banged this out quickly for your (and my own) benefit.  I usually polish my maps a lot more, but this is just for reference and is likely to change in the future.

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/regionmap.png)

A few notes:

The two Low Plain circles represent the minimum and maximum extent of the Low Plain.  The light gray area is always Low Plain; the striped area may or may not be depending on how long ago lava flowed there.  It doesn't mean that every area in the striped area has been part of the Low Plain before, only that lava flows have been that far from the High Plain in the past.  The actual border of the Obsidian Plain fluctuates somewhere in that striped zone.*The regions are merely geographical, not cultural or national.  They are broad, somewhat ill-defined areas that share a similar biome or geography.  Nobody would call themselves a "Red Depth-ian" or anything like that.*The outside circle is rather arbitrary.  It does not indicate the end of the world, or even of the Forest.  There's far more beyond that, but I've chosen to exclude it for now as I focus on the "Inner Forest."  I haven't precisely determined a scale for this map, but I've left a line in to indicate the halfway point between the Grandmother Mountain (at the center) and the arbitrary border.*For those of you who've been reading along, the Netai Confederation is in the Sea of Indigo region.  The heart of the World-Queen's domain is the Feathervale, but it extends into a large part of the Red Depths and into the edges of the Wash and the Sea of Marching Stones.

Quote from: SteerpikeThe Ghola are really poignant and strikingly original. The only comparison my incessantly comparison-making brain can come up with is the vortigaunts from Half-Life 2, not to say you even had those in mind at all when you created the Ghola, just that they remind me of the vorts in some ways.

olm-men[/i] in underground rivers.  The Golhai are just my idea of what "olm-men" would be like, if they'd also developed a sixth sense (their mental powers) to make up for their lack of sight and inability to speak.  Like the Asheaters, they fulfill a "niche role" of an intelligent race that isn't a PC race, which I think is an important distinction to make.  Intelligence shouldn't automatically be taken to mean cultural or physical viability as an adventuring race.  I like the "monster PC" as much as the next player, but I think if the line becomes too blurred, monsters (especially the intelligent ones) become too familiar and "standard" instead of unearthly and interesting.

As an example, D&D has undergone "dragon creep" since the early days, where a creature that is supposed to be legendary by default (a dragon) becomes so diluted into the player base (half-dragons in CoW 2nd ed, "dragon blood" sorcerers in 3rd, and finally dragonborn as a standard PC race in 4th) that dragons and their relations seem rather pedestrian, and more extreme foes are needed to maintain "awesomeness."  I like my monster races to be conserved as long as possible.

I have nothing constructive to add except to say, I love this setting. :)

I cannot get over the original awesomeness of the Bestiary...its all so cool. I love this setting, and it was actually the first setting I looked at when I came to the site.

Alright, First thing I wish to say is that I love how indepth you went with the navigation and such, the base seven was a nice touch. Asking the third is probably the best thing ever too :D

The Peril adds a nice element of fear, a sorta ultimate evil it seems. However it does remind me of something called The Balrog, a red moss that infests humans and gives them supernatural powers, the moss is a hivemind that can communicate over any distance (this is from a scifi book, so think multiple light years) and is a ascended being. I forget the name of the series where this is, but it was a really good series :P

Anyway, the Peril seems almost like a disembodied great evil, maybe without the that much mythological baggage, sorta like if Sauron just popped up one day on Middle earth.

For Dendronautics, have any Cogs been involved? Flying Cogs? Or perhaps instead of a manual propeller, a clockwork propeller, this would greatly increase the power of such a propeller, without the need for a large crew. The Iskites in general seems like they could manage a partly automated clockwork khauta to greatly increase range and/or speed. Also, if reliable clockwork khautas were developed this would help the forming of nations/empires, since the weeks to journey between towns would be condensed to days.

The Black Circle is a fantastic idea, clever really. Although it doesn't seem like fun, sitting in an updraft of smoke/hot air/sulfurous air :p

I like the symbolism of the Obsidian Plain, not a evil place no matter how hellish it seems.

The Umbril are assuredly anti-myconid :p Like everyone says your racial layout is fantastic and covers many different aspects.

Of the bestiary my favorite would have to be the Aras Tay. The division of Greater and Lesser is nicely defined and much appreciated.

The map I find is a huge addition to the setting, it's a great reference as you say. It also raises quite a few questions. Are the areas marked Seas all water? Islands aren't marked as far as I can tell. Also, what is the outer white ring for? The striped area is as you say the variable boundary but the white circle covering that one?

Quote from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AeolipileAeolipile[/url] near the end of the Age of Prophets, but there are only a few of them, and they're just a curiosity.  It's likely going to be some time before that becomes viable method of turning a propeller.

A GM could certainly decide they were running a higher-tech TCJ campaign and include basic steam engines - I think it could potentially be made to fit - but that's not what I want currently.  I want to keep travel difficult and maintain some degree of isolation, and steam khautas would work against that.

QuoteThe Black Circle is a fantastic idea, clever really. Although it doesn't seem like fun, sitting in an updraft of smoke/hot air/sulfurous air :p

Of the bestiary my favorite would have to be the Aras Tay. The division of Greater and Lesser is nicely defined and much appreciated.

The map I find is a huge addition to the setting, it's a great reference as you say. It also raises quite a few questions. Are the areas marked Seas all water? Islands aren't marked as far as I can tell. Also, what is the outer white ring for? The striped area is as you say the variable boundary but the white circle covering that one?[/quote]
The line outside the striped area is actually just a halfway point between the center of the map and the outer rim.  It's just a distance line on a map, it doesn't represent anything.

The "Seas" are not all water.  Think of it like the Mediterranean - you could draw a big circle around the Mediterranean and all the lands that border it and call it the "Mediterranean region."

The Sea of Ink is actually not a sea at all, but a high forest region home to trees that have very dark green leaves, to the point where they look nearly black.  The name was given to it by khauta flyers, to whom the whole region out from the Wyrmcrown just looked like one enormous black ocean.

Additionally, there are inland seas and sizeable lakes that are in other regions not called "seas."  Chokereed has a whole series of lakes, and the Maw has a pretty sizeable one too.  It can't be emphasized enough that these are just maps of "regions" and aren't meant for navigation or precise delineation of features; they just indicate areas in the same way we would use "Mediterranean," "Horn of Africa," "Arabia," "Amazon Jungle," or "Tibetan Plateau."

Thanks for the comments and questions, I appreciate it all.

[ic=Songs of the Gheen]Carry the gods upon your shoulders,
Daughters of Yryma, sing and dance!
But not for them, the blood is flowing,
The spirit is safe in the hearts of kin.

Ai!  Ai!  Praise for the mistress,
She who laughs in the graven face!
- Exerpt, traditional coronation song from the Red Depths[/ic]

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/gheenborder.jpg)


The Gheen are some of the least imposing animals in the Forest.  They protect themselves through their agility and cunning, but in the end they know their civilization is eternally stalked by death, caught between the cats of the ground and the wyrms of the sky.  They confront this reality in a way that is characteristically their own '" cherishing experience and emotion while life lasts, and trusting in the supreme immortality of blood and family when it fails.  They are often dismissed by outsiders as superficial or callow, but nothing could be further from the truth.  They are dedicated to their traditions and family, and believe that only the arrogant dismiss what life has to offer in its brief span - the ascetic is merely a coward.  All must be embraced and experienced for the benefit of one's own spirit and the prosperity of the eternal kinship.

[spoiler=Physiology]Gheen are small furred mammals.  Gheen are very lightweight, and despite their height (three to three and a half feet, not including their three-foot tails), their adult weight is seldom much more than thirty pounds.  Gheen are neither strong nor tough, but are extremely flexible and have lightning reflexes.

The Gheen resemble large mustelids; this is especially evident in their long necks and weasel-like faces.  Their fur color ranges from dark brown to red or even gold, and some have streaks or large splotches of multiple colors.  Only their hands, feet, and faces have no fur.  They have a stretchy membrane spanning from their wrists to their ankles like a flying squirrel, and have prehensile tails reminiscent of monkeys.  Their skin is rather loose like a cat's, and predators taking a bite of them often find they've only grabbed skin and caused a flesh wound instead of a killing blow.

With these features and their surprisingly powerful back legs, they make the perfect canopy-dwellers.  They cannot actually fly, but are powerful jumpers and can glide for long distances.  Their stubby claws and light frames allow them to scramble up tree trunks with impressive speed, or they can simply jump from branch to branch.  Their sense of balance is extremely fine compared to most other creatures, and they live fearlessly in dwellings others would consider lethally precarious.

Gheen eyesight is particularly keen, but unlike the sight of the surface-dwelling races, it is not as well adapted for darkness.  Their amber-colored eyes are able to perceive far more color gradations than those of other species, and their vision extends into the ultraviolet spectrum.  Their other senses are fairly standard; their claim to have superior 'taste' is an aesthetic judgment, not a sensory one.[/spoiler]
[note=Drey]I use the word 'drey' to refer to Gheen treetop settlements.  This isn't their word; 'drey' is the English name for a squirrel's nest, and I use it here in the same way I use 'village' for Iskites and 'colony' for Umbril.[/note]
[spoiler=Language]The Gheen languages are composed of rather high-pitched sounds, including chirps, trills, and clicks.  The Umbril find this particularly difficult to emulate, but the Iskites and Tahro can learn it quite readily if they're willing to spend the time.  Each 'region,' defined loosely as an area in which Gheen dreys have regular contact with each other, has its own language with accents particular to individual dreys.  There is no common Gheen tongue, though the 'Queen's Tongue' used in Auk Yrta Su'u's realm is quite widespread as a result of her conquests.

Gheen language is tonal, and different pronunciations and pitches of the same word will yield different meanings.  This is probably the most difficult part of their language to learn, but without it, one is only capable of spouting gibberish.  The Gheen word for 'alien,' trlak, also means 'tone deaf.'[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Life Cycle]As mammals, Gheen have live births, after a 4 month pregnancy.  They give birth in litters of 2-4 'kits,' who are able to jump and glide within two months and weaned within four.  Twins and even triplets are not uncommon.  A kit is twice as likely to be male as female, though the increased mortality rate of males reduces this sex ratio somewhat in older age groups.

Gheen society is based around large, extended family units, and children are raised within those families.  Care and early education is provided by members of the family, though not necessarily the kit's parents '" in general, a Gheen's parents are only somewhat more involved in its upbringing than other members of its family, even rather distant cousins.  A kit may spend much of its life with grandparents, cousins, uncles, and aunts, so that every Gheen knows its extended family well by the time it reaches adulthood.  It also gives the kit the opportunity to experience a wide variety of trades and crafts, so it can make an informed choice when it becomes an adult.

Between the ages of 13 and 15, depending on when sexual maturity is reached, the kit undergoes a coming of age ceremony that marks one as a full adult.  The ceremonies are entirely different for males and females.  Males undergo a ceremony called the Great Fall.  In this ceremony, the male kits receive a cut on the arm, and their blood is shed and allowed to fall to the forest floor.  Then, they are thrown from a high platform.  The kit is thus ritually 'killed,' and in his place, a full adult climbs up from the lower canopy.  Females undergo a ceremony called a Windcalling.  Their fur is painted and they must climb to the very tops of the trees and await the first bird cry they hear, at which point they are permitted to climb down and return to the drey.  The details of the ceremonies are secret, and kept even from Gheen of the opposite sex.  A Gheen who passes this ceremony adopts an 'adult name.'  Males choose their own, while females use the bird cry they heard during their Windcalling.  Both ceremonies entail some danger, and deaths '" while fairly rare overall '" do happen with some regularity.

Adult Gheen are permitted to take a mate.  In the interests of preserving a family's maternal line, males leave their families and join their mate's family, but they retain their own family name.  Gheen society permits polyandry and females may have multiple mates at the same time, but because the bride must traditionally pay a 'mate price' to the husband's family, only wealthy females engage in this practice.  Gheen are expected to be faithful to their mates, but there is no real stigma against pre-marital relations, and children born from such relations are accepted into the woman's family like any other children.  Gheen expect marriage to be life-long, and thus most Gheen explore many romantic relationships before finally settling on a lifelong mate many years after adulthood is reached.  It's considered only sensible to take plenty of time to test the waters before committing yourself.

Adults also choose a trade, and must find another adult willing to make them their apprentice.  Some trades are more prestigious than others, and a renowned craftsman or one in a particularly desirable trade must often choose between a whole host of would-be apprentices, who resort to lavish gifts and unabashed flattery to be chosen.  Those that are not so fortunate must content themselves with other trades or less well-known masters.

As Gheen age, the hair near their face (the face itself is hairless) begins to whiten, as does the fur at the end of their tails.  They retain much of their agility even in old age, but begin to weaken as they approach the end of their lives.  The oldest known Gheen was 105 years of age, but most die around 70-90 years if they survive long enough to enjoy a natural death.  Dead Gheen are placed on open platforms near the treetops, where aerial scavengers strip the bones of flesh.  The bones are then cast down from the trees save the skull, which is covered with clay or plaster until it again resembles the departed's head.  Such 'plastered skulls' are then painted and decorated with beads and shells, and placed in the family's 'skull trove' where they are available for all to admire. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Society]The Gheen value family over all else.  They believe that those who share blood also share a certain spiritual connection; a child is not just your own flesh, but your own soul as well.  They seek to work for the benefit of their family and to enhance the prosperity of their children and relations.  They believe that emotions are the purest form of vitality and expression, and the emotions engendered by one's familial ties are the most important of all.  Their culture is based around the interactions within and between families and the emotional relationships that define these interactions.  To a Gheen, life is about emotion and feeling '" they are capable of deeply caring relationships and monstrous hatreds alike, but are whimsical and fickle and can change their opinion of someone overnight. Outsiders find them to be flighty, indecisive, arbitrary, and sometimes downright annoying, but Gheen are also sensitive and empathic folk who are not afraid to show their commitment to their family and friends through great bravery and altruism.

All advancement and status in Gheen society comes from one's family.  Your family provides you with the resources and personal contacts needed to find a gainful apprenticeship, and supports you until you've become a successful tradesman of your own right and can give back to your family.  Nepotism '" that is, favoritism based on family '" is not considered a negative thing in Gheen society.  It is expected that people will attempt to prioritize the welfare of their own relations first, though this should not be taken to mean that family is the only important factor in judging another.  A Gheen is expected to return what he's been given, and afford his younger family members everything that was once afforded to him when he was young.

The family also has an important role in mate selection.  The middle-aged men of the family are expected to be on the lookout for eligible males in other families of the drey (or, if they are travelers, in other dreys) and play matchmakers for their female relatives.  This is also a deeply political act, and one of the ways in which males exercise power in the female-dominated society of the Gheen.  Among them, the 'blood of the family' flows through the female line; property is inherited by daughters, as is rulership (if the drey is monarchic).  'Who marries who' (and indeed, 'who mates with who') is of critical importance to the family's prestige and balance of power, and is determinant of who gets what when a family member dies.  A family's males exercise informal power through this matchmaker role, and act as the architects of family alliances and unions.  Many a bewildered female has been subject to the incessant cajoling and manipulation of her male relatives, who form rival factions over which mate she should take from which family.  A female must be strong-willed indeed if she wishes to have a mate she loves rather than one that has been hand picked by her uncles and cousins '" though if she's wealthy, she can have both.

A single drey is composed of anywhere from three to ten extended families.  Most decisions are made at the family level rather than the drey level, while matters that concern the entire drey are resolved through negotiations of prominent grandmothers (and great-grandmothers) of each of the constituent families.  Most dreys (perhaps 80%) are monarchies, with one 'royal family' which has the distinction of carrying the title of Queen in its bloodline.  Because few decisions are made at the drey level the Queen has only as much power as she can grasp for herself.  If she is young, she may not even be particularly influential in her own family.

The primary function of a drey Queen is not political at all, but religious; she is the spiritual head of all the families and the focal point of ceremonies and celebrations.  Some Queens spurn any pretention at political power and surround themselves in luxuries with their harem of husbands, while others actively scheme for power and attempt to consolidate more and more authority in their office.  The Gheen have scant love for tyranny and such rulers are usually foiled if their ambitions become too great '" the Queen is made to look ridiculous and, thusly chastised, reduced to ineffectiveness.  The most clever of rulers find ways to exercise power without appearing too powerful.  Umbril observers who witness Gheen politics at the royal level are often surprised to note how closely they resemble their own maneuverings, though very few Gheen would ever take politics so seriously as to consider assassination.

Many families are present in multiple dreys, and these family 'chapters' often communicate and coordinate their efforts.  Most Gheen are more loyal to their family than the drey itself, which has the positive side effect of making wars between dreys very rare.

A newcomer into Gheen society is usually overwhelmed by their apparently simpering and ingratiating nature.  The Gheen love titles almost as much as they love exaggeration, and will address a visiting merchant as 'Prince of Wealth' or 'Great Master of Material Magnificence,' or an explorer as 'Lord of the Horizon,' 'The All-Seeing Surveyor of the Universe,' or whatever other titles they've invented on the spot.  The smart visitor accepts this obvious flattery and gives some of his own back, because among the Gheen, modesty is a character flaw.  It is considered insulting to humbly deny flattery; the Gheen know very well that it isn't literally true, and to correct them on the matter insults their intelligence.  Their embellished speech is, a bit ironically, a way in which they remind each other of their fundamental limitations.  Because all their speech has flattery, they become inured to it, and so (they believe) they are able to better judge themselves realistically and avoid the pitfalls of arrogance, egotism, and self-centeredness.

The Gheen would always rather overstate something than understate it, which can make it difficult for a foreigner to gauge how serious a matter is.  They treat each other in the same manner, obsequiously praising their peers while simultaneously blowing their own horn, and flowery exaggerations adorn all their interactions with others. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Habitat]Gheen dreys are built in the middle to upper canopy, principally out of wood.  The tree trunks in the area are ringed with multiple levels of platforms, overhangs, and dens.  There are usually no stairs up a tree trunk or bridges between trees, since the Gheen do not need them, which makes travel within a drey problematic for non-Gheen.  They do maintain rope cranes with multi-pulley tackles to lift large loads between platforms, and these systems often double as 'lifts' for visitors who aren't as comfortable climbing bare tree trunks or leaping from platform to platform.  Nets are sometimes suspended below living areas with young kits, or beneath guest dens for non-Gheen visitors.

The Gheen advertise their wealth and taste to their peers by embellishing and adorning their residences with all manner of decorations.  Walls and floorboards are intricately carved, colored stones are set into handrails and doors, feathers are woven into thatched roofs and garlands of flowers drape from every prominence.  Everything that can be painted is painted, if the residents can afford it.

There are few 'common areas' in the community (though one might consider simple branches to be common roosts), but there is also very little expectation of privacy.  No such thing as 'trespassing' exists in Gheen culture, and members of one family can freely spend time on the platforms of others so long as they don't make a nuisance of themselves.  Gheen live in very close proximity to one another, and visitors are often uncomfortably cramped in quarters the Gheen would consider above average. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Warfare]The Gheen, being rather small and physically weak, have many predators.  They avoid them principally by virtue of their unique living environment.  Many ground predators simply have no way to reach the Gheen, and if one does climb up a tree all the way into the canopy, the Gheen simply glide to a nearby tree until the predator leaves.  The lower branches of a drey are festooned with bells and other noisemakers to alert the Gheen of a climbing predator, as well as less obvious traps with break-away branches or torsion mechanisms that give an intruder a face full of poisoned stakes.

Aerial predators provide a different challenge, and claim far more lives than predators from the forest floor.  Nets of giant spider silk are strung up at strategic points; they are difficult for a flying creature to see and many would-be predators stumble into them and are subsequently dispatched.  The Gheen also use 'crow's nest' type watchtowers at the very tops of trees, where camouflaged lookouts can spot talons of Storm Wyrms, their most deadly foe.  Dreys have communal bells and gongs to warn the whole community when a serious threat is approaching.

The Gheen maintain professional soldiers (always male), who are watchmen and trap-setters during times of peace.  Understandably, the Gheen shy away from melee combat and prefer blowguns, bows, bolas, rope darts, crossbows, and javelins.  Armor makes jumping and climbing difficult, so all but the lightest varieties are not usually worn.  They employ skirmishing tactics and vertical assaults, in which they try to catch their opponent off guard by climbing and attacking from above.  In the event of a serious threat, non-soldiers will assist as well, even if only by dropping heavy objects down on intruders from higher platforms.  Gheen warriors are much more feared than their stature would suggest.  Stories abound of Gheen who, berserker-like, fly into a towering rage and strike down a much larger opponent.

This heightened emotional state generally serves them well, though it can have unfortunate consequences.  The Gheen are emotionally volatile, which does not always mean love and happiness '" the Gheen have perpetrated some of the grossest crimes against their neighbors in the annals of the Forest, even if one doesn't consider the numerous atrocities of the World-Queen.  When properly whipped up into a frenzy of revenge or hatred, they can be capable of monstrous things, be it mass slaughter or wanton destruction.  It is not fair to say that all or even most Gheen have such low ethical standards as individuals, but Gheen together tend to have a mob mentality that reinforces itself and may cause them to do things in the heat of the moment that, alone and with a cooler head, any one of them would never consider.  Such events undoubtedly tarnish their image among other races, but also make others think twice about picking a fight with them.

The Iskites, Umbril, and Tahro know very well that attacking a drey is a foolhardy proposition, and they rarely try.  The Umbril especially would be laughably ineffective in the treetops considering their nauseating fear of heights.  As with predators, most armed attacks on the Gheen come from the air.

The Gheen invented the khauta and use it liberally in war, usually as a means to scout the enemy's location and to quickly mobilize other dreys in mutual defense.  Actual 'fighting skiffs' are rare, even among the Gheen.

Gheen do not wear uniforms or have any particular drey colors or designs.  Instead, soldiers paint their bodies, clothes, and shields with colors to help them blend into the forest background, one of the few times when Gheen favor more subdued shades over their usual bright choices. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Art and Music]The Gheen like flashy and colorful art that conveys emotion with riotous colors and designs.  All their art is somewhat abstracted, and even portraits and reproductions of scenes are stylized and brightly colored.  The Gheen do not consider this to be unfaithful to the original.  They argue that they simply place more emphasis on conveying the feeling of the original scene than the dry details of precisely how it looked.  Like the Iskites, painting is their favorite form of visual art, but they strongly dislike the Iskite style and label dull or overly realistic artworks 'scaly art.'

Given their tonal language, it is probably unsurprising that the Gheen consider singing to be the highest musical art.  They enjoy it greatly, and the adult Gheen knows a wide repertoire of songs, many of which are specific to his drey, or even to his family.  Songs play central roles in Gheen celebrations and rituals; there are songs for marriage, birth, death, coming of age, eating, drinking, and even war.  Some songs have different parts for different members of society '" for instance, there may be a verse or part specifically for the maternal grandfather of the bride in a Gheen marriage song.  The Gheen do not restrict themselves to songs already written, and it is considered a point of pride to be able to make up a tune with verses on the spot.  Most Gheen have perfect pitch.

The Iskite discovery of the printing press during the later Age of Prophets profoundly influenced Gheen music.  The Gheen had never before bothered to record their music on paper; songs were passed down through a family orally, given from mother to daughter and father to son.  The introduction of printed musical notation allowed the Gheen to greatly expand their musical horizons, and many dreys adopted Iskite musical notation (with their own modifications) and appropriated Iskite concepts of polyphony to their own songs.  That cultural exchange no longer exists since the Orange Strife, but the musical tradition of the Gheen is incalculably richer as a result.  Though few dreys have printing presses, they continue to copy out music by hand, and most families keep archives of important and notable songs.  Dreys with presses use them almost exclusively for musical printing.

Musical instruments are subordinated to an accompanying role.  The Gheen do not find much worthwhile in listening to music that has no lyrics, or even vocalizations of some kind '" they say it lacks the quality of emotion that only the voice can provide.  Their instruments tend to be light and fairly simple, such as hand bells, tambourines, and woodwinds. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Food]The Gheen have a diet composed of fruit, nuts, and insects.  They consider themselves to be strict vegetarians, as they do not consider insects to be 'animals,' but something closer to tree nuts on legs.  The idea of eating a thinking creature is abhorrent to them.  Though they are not otherwise very sturdy creatures, their bodies handle poisons very well, perhaps because of all the poisonous insects that they eat (or perhaps it is the other way around).  While their food is generally considered edible by the other civilized races, some of their insect dishes would seriously sicken a creature that lacked their resistance to toxins.  The Gheen do eat some varieties of tree fungus as well, though this makes up a fairly small part of their diet.  They do not cultivate any food, but because they throw all their seeds and food waste down onto the forest floor, fruit-bearing trees tend to be concentrated in the vicinity of a drey.

The Gheen enjoy alcohol but do not make much themselves, preferring to trade with others for it.  The same features that make them resistant to poisons make them good drinkers as well, and foreigners are often surprised to discover that they are as capable as a much heavier Iskite when it comes to holding their drink.  They do not exercise much self-restraint, and drinking can become problematic for those who can afford to binge. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Recreation]Food is not difficult to come by in most dreys, and so Gheen have a great deal of leisure time.  Some new observers question whether any meaningful work gets done given all the non-essential activities that go on constantly in a drey.  It would be a mistake to describe them as lazy, however '" they are very capable survivalists who do what needs to be done and then take leisure time as they can get it.  When taken by inspiration or compelled by an emergency, the Gheen are single-minded and diligent workers.

The Gheen enjoy physical recreation most of all, usually in the form of leaping and gliding within the safety of their drey.  This is an enjoyable activity for them, but it also keeps them fit and spry, qualities which they may have to rely on in the event of a sudden predator attack.

Singing, especially with others, is also a common activity, but it is not one that is restricted to recreation '" the Gheen are notorious for singing while working or even in combat.  They will sometimes spend free time pouring over written music in order to commit it to memory, so it can be sung later or taught to others.

The Gheen have little patience for the Umbril games of strategy.  They simply do not like standing still for that long, and their culture is more oriented towards heaping praise than piling on insults like the Umbril usually do when playing a game.

The Gheen build bark-walled 'sweat dens' similar to saunas where they spend some leisure time.  These dens are separated by sex, and female sweat dens are often the site of significant decision-making within a family.  Water is poured on hot stones to create the steam, though usually herbs or other aromatic plants are placed upon the stones as well.  The Gheen consider this a purifying ritual as well as a relaxing one, and try to engage in steam baths regularly.

The Gheen learned all they know about psychoactive substances from the Umbril (who know a great deal), and occasionally use them in religious ceremonies.  Unlike the Umbril, however, they recognize the idea of a 'recreational' use for such plants as well, and will sometimes add them to sweat den rocks.  There is very little social stigma attached to drug use so long as it does not compromise an individual's work and obligations.  The Umbril frown upon this use of their sacred pharmacological knowledge, but their desire to trade generally outweighs other concerns. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Religion]The Gheen believe in the sacredness of the family bloodline.  They believe the soul is literally contained in the blood and that a Gheen never truly dies as long as it has living descendents.  There are set rituals by which one can 'call forth' the souls of one's ancestors within one's own blood; the most common of these is known as a Blood Trance.  A Gheen enters the Blood Trance with the aid of a 'hemomancer,' a mystic who knows the rituals necessary to call forth the blood.  In a Blood Trance, the chosen ancestor is 'called to the surface' and speaks through the subject, imparting advice or answering the hemomancer's questions.  Rituals like the Blood Trance are extremely important in a family's decisionmaking process, and the ancestors will usually be consulted before any important event, from a battle, to a wedding, or even the construction of a new platform.  The Gheen take the words of the ancestors extremely seriously, and insulting a Gheen's ancestors, even jokingly, is taken as sacrilege.  A crude comment about a Gheen's mother often leads to violence.

For the Gheen, 'gods' fulfill a different role than they do in some other cultures.  The Gheen do not deny that divine beings exist, but question the idea that any all-powerful being not related to them by blood would genuinely be interested in their welfare.  Gheen religion is more about appeasing spirits than praising them.  The Gheen make impressive sacrifices and hold huge, gaudy celebrations and feasts.  Various gods and nature spirits are 'invited' to these events.  Gheen evokers encourage the spirits to manifest within portable idols, which are treated as full participants in the celebration.  They are given food and drink, the idea being that they will be placated '" or at least, distracted '" and thus decide to withhold their wrath and curses from the drey.  The Queen is of pivotal importance in these events, as she functions as the drey's 'host,' and is responsible for making sure the spirits are well pleased (or just sufficiently drunk).  To outside observers, it is sometimes difficult to tell that these orgies of excess are actually important religious events.

Some Gheen dreys do adopt deific patrons, and some families may turn partially or wholesale to various cults, but they are much less prone to this sort of worship than the other civilized races.  They feel that creatures should rely on 'their own kind' and are generally mistrustful of beings more powerful than themselves.

The Gheen are extremely skilled astronomers, more so than even the Iskites, and identify the stars with various deities and powers.  Their movements are carefully charted, and comets and meteor showers are portentous events that precipitate many sacrifices and feasts. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Adventurers]The Gheen are both prolific and curious, a combination that leads to a great deal of Gheen explorers, traveling merchants, mercenaries, and general adventurers.  In the annals of exploration and discovery the Gheen are overrepresented by far.

Gheen adventurers tend to be male.  Males are plentiful, and females are not usually trained for combat.  In addition, the loss of a female can jeopardize the family line of inheritance in a way that a loss of male usually cannot.  The downside of holding the formal power in Gheen society is that you are less free to leave it, and dreys generally allow males to freely come and go while placing much more of a restriction on the activities of females.  Most female Gheen adventurers tend to be on poor terms with their families, having left in secrecy or after a particularly bitter falling out. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Relations]The Gheen are innately suspicious of creatures larger than themselves, but have come to accept that none of the other civilized races want to eat them.  They are eager to open trade with other races and tend to overlook the eccentricities of aliens in order to get the goods they want.  The Gheen are volatile and quick to anger, and perceived slights can impel them to violence.  Usually, however, their anger diffuses quickly and they resume their quest for mutually beneficial terms before any flap becomes too serious.

The Gheen consider the Iskites to be onerous reprobates.  In their eyes, the Iskites subjugate everything that is natural and good '" family, birth, the Forest itself '" to their petty and wrongheaded obsessions.  The Gheen believe this is the very height of arrogance, and their beliefs are confirmed in their personal dealings with the Iskites, whom they find to be humorless and chauvinistic with heads full of sterile philosophy and dogmatic resistance to all that which makes life worth living.  To them, the much vaunted 'civilization' of the Iskites is just a hollow pretention.  Still, the Gheen appreciate some of the benefits of that civilization, and are eager to trade with Iskite villages, especially for metal goods and alcohol.  If the Iskites wish to live their meaningless and abhorrent lifestyle, after all, then far be it from the Gheen to get in their way.  As long as the Iskites don't threaten their drey, the Gheen are happy to leave them to their own devices, and restrict their relationship with them to matters of business.  Wars between them are the most common kind of inter-species war, but they are seldom settled decisively, as neither side is really capable of taking the fight to the home environment of the enemy.  The Gheen usually respond to Iskite hostility by ambushing their caravans and taking hostages until the Iskites agree to a favorable truce.

The Gheen find the Umbril to be very strange and difficult to understand, but are also rather fascinated by them.  Like the Iskites, the Umbril are strangers to family and lineage, but the Umbril are naturally that way (unlike the Iskites, who 'perverted' their society), and the Gheen appreciate the difference.  They find Umbril culture (at least, what they know of it) to be colorless and dull and don't believe the Umbril have any real aesthetic sense, but respect their intelligence and quietly admire their tenacity, as no Gheen would dare make a living on the forest floor.  They (correctly) suspect that there is far more to the fungus-people than they let on.  The Umbril are more suspicious of them then they are of the Umbril, which the Gheen feel is unfortunate.  Their rather ham-fisted attempts to ingratiate themselves with the Umbril, however, only heighten Umbril suspicions.  The Gheen have come to accept that the Umbril may just be too alien, and that common ground may simply be too elusive for their cultures to find.

The Gheen believe the Tahro to be the most like them among the civilized races.  The stoicism and seriousness of the Tahro frustrates them, and they see their glacial deliberation as sloth, but find their way of life commendable and are rather excited by the idea of nomadism even if they wouldn't want to live that way themselves.  They adapt quite readily to the Tahr custom of reciprocal gift-giving, and like to demonstrate their power and largess by bestowing great gifts upon local bloods.  Unfortunately, the Tahro frown upon ostentatious gifts that the receiver can't possibly reciprocate, and the superlative and showy generosity of the Gheen tends to do their cause more harm than good.  Still, the Tahro manage to suffer the mercurial 'tree sprites' with their usual patience, and good trading relations are typically maintained.  In some cases, Tahr bloods and Gheen dreys have formed temporary defensive arrangements (usually in wars against Iskites), and the combination of mobile Gheen skirmishers and powerful Tahr warriors is often enough to force even mighty Iskite alliances to the bargaining table.

The Gheen are willing to accept visitors into their community, even on a long term basis, but because of the cultural emphasis on family and heredity it is impossible for a non-Gheen to fully enter into their society.  The Gheen don't adopt; only relations of blood and marriage are valid to them.  While foreigners may become valued and respected members of the drey, they will always be outside the family structure, and therefore be forever outside the real channels of power and culture in the community. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Varieties]The Gheen have superficial differences based on their extended family.  Some large families are known for specific patterns and colors to their fur, and Gheen can sometimes recognize another's family by sight if the family colors and patterns are familiar to them.  Gheen are among the most well-traveled of all the civilized races (rivaled only by the Tahro), with greater contact and intermarriage between dreys than between villages or colonies.  There are no proper 'subraces' of Gheen as a result.

The Gheen value the integrity of their bloodlines very highly, but some are tempted by the idea of introducing more 'powerful' blood into their line, and purposefully form pacts with powerful beings in the hopes of producing hybrid offspring.  There are several families of Gheen that are known to have powerful deific ancestors, the most well known of them being the House of the Secret Fire, which has the blood of the Elder Wyrm Mylsegemmen in their veins (this is not quite as bizarre as it sounds; Mylsegemmen is a shapechanger and can take any form, including a Gheen one, and has reputedly fathered children of many, many species).  'Starblood' (the general term for those with deific ancestry) Gheen may appear completely normal, or manifest certain features of their unusual ancestor depending on who exactly that ancestor was.

Starblood families are not outright shunned by 'pure' Gheen, but the practice of creating a starblood line is strongly frowned upon by most Gheen as unnatural.  Starbloods who do not have the protection of an established family may not be afforded the same grudging tolerance, and are often forced into the life of an adventurer or traveling merchant, especially if their alien ancestry is very obvious. [/spoiler]

Another beautifully realized race.  I love how distinct you`re making the four major races, and the attention you`re lavishing on them rather than spreading your efforts out across many superficially rendered species.

So far it seems that most of the communities in the Clockwork Jungle are very segregated in terms of race: while there might be a few visitors from other races, a Gheen community is 99% Gheen.

I`m wondering if you`re planning on introducing any more cosmopolitan settlements.  I realize that the idea of cities is pretty antithetical to what you`re creating, and just wouldn`t make a great deal of sense.  But what about trade-towns at the joining of rivers?  Or at the entrances to large ruins where lots of old tech can be scavenged?  Are there villages where the Gheen have treetop communities while the Umbril dwell about the roots?  I`m just thinking that more variegated settlements would breed interesting tensions and would create a feel of cultural fluidity conducive to adventuring and mercenary work in contrast with the tight-knit communities so far presented.  But perhaps you feel that mixed communities of this type just don`t have a place in the setting?

I`m interested into how all of this plays into adventure in the Clockwork Jungle.  While all of the cultures and creatures posted so far are very realistically detailed and believable, it seems that in most societies adventurers are generally outcasts or renegades.  Iskites frown on anyone leaving their community; Gheen family values are so strong that it seems that even for males the idea of traveling widely beyond their community would be very rare; I don`t know so much about Tahro or Umbril attitudes towards adventure.  Are you envisioning adventurers as very fringe, exiled types, very anomalous?  Or are they more like local troubleshooters who tend not to leave a local area?  Obviously there might be groups of both, but are there other kinds of adventuring groups you`re imagining?

This is related to Kindling`s question about what kind of adventures you`d run in the Clockwork Jungle, but it`s more 'who are the adventurers'.

The question is an important one, and it relates to how I see "adventuring" as a profession and lifestyle.  The adventuring professions are ones that take one away from family and home, even in "standard" fantasy settings - in literature, they tend to return once they're done with "the quest," but in gaming it is more of a career.  A character may never see home again, and almost certainly knows that to be a possibility when they step out the door with their spellbook and/or longsword.  It's often a selfish act, as well.  Some adventurers may go to "rescue people" or do good deeds, but unless they're orphans, they're leaving behind a community that raised them and, to at least some extent, relied on them.  The Iskites may be a particularly extreme example of this, but no culture - not even standard, medieval humans - can really embrace the idea of their children being bled away by foreign adventure, leaving their families and communities without them during harvest, or when the village is threatened.

Adventurers in the Clockwork Jungle are outsiders.  Sometimes, they are that way by choice; wanderlust, greed, curiosity, or simple dissatisfaction with their way of life causes them to leave the community and strike out on their own.  Other times, it is a way of life forced upon them - a rogue Iskite, an Umbril fleeing assassination, a Tahr exiled by the blood, or a Gheen orphan (or starblood without a family).  These individuals are forced to look outside the insular world of the community, and as a result tend to be far more willing to aid, work with, and befriend those of other races.  The Iskite of the village can indulge in a casual hatred of "Gheen" (not any particular Gheen, but "Gheen" as a concept), but the Iskite alone in the broader world has met them personally.  He knows he doesn't have the luxury of relying only on his kinsman when out in the deep jungles or in foreign lands.  Gheen may not be his favorite traveling companions, but he will do what he must to survive.  There is no hatred between the civilized races strong enough to be worse than death, and death will indeed come to the loner.

There are some "cities" in the Clockwork Jungle, though they are generally few and far between.  Netai has several island cities, and though the Umbril dominate the Confederation, it has a very considerable alien minority in its lands (around 30%, I'd imagine).  On the Black Circle, the City of Orpiment is about 40-40 Gheen and Umbril, with small but significant Iskite and Tahr minorities.  There are other, small outposts on important trade routes like the Black Circle that function as trading posts and semi-permanent social gatherings for merchants, adventurers, explorers, and the like (though these outposts are seldom at river confluences, because rivers are typically not used for trade and travel - they are usually choked with vegetation, often change course because of the Forest's movement, and tend to attract the largest and most dangerous predators).

I mentioned the phenomenon of Gheen dreys over Umbril colonies.  Though the Umbril like to be secretive, there are certainly drey/colony pairs who know of each other and are on better terms.  Iskite-Umbril pairings happen too, where the crop waste/fertilizer exchange knits a village and colony together.  Tahro frequently set up seasonal camps beneath dreys or near colonies, thus spending a part of each year in close contact with aliens.  I think such "binary" communities absolutely fit with the setting - though I don't think of them as exactly "common" - and a GM running a TCJ campaign shouldn't be afraid to push boundaries and create such locations so long as it makes some kind of sense within the game world.  The homogeneous settlements described in the "race posts" are archetypes, examples of how one race lives when left to itself.  It is not and does not need to always be the case.  In some areas, binary communities are actually the norm - the Wash is the best example of this, where Fishers (an Iskite "subrace") and Umbril commonly live in close proximity, or sometimes even in "towns" where the colony and village have merged into one settlement.

It should also be noted that there are relatively few areas dominated by a single race; the Scalemount is largely Iskite and the Halberd Spires are mostly Umbril, but aside from a few such areas most regions are speckled with settlements of several (or all) races.  As a result, a party is seldom forced to deal with only one race for a long period of time, which might give too much advantage to a single member of their party (assuming a multi-racial crew).  They are likely to deal with all of them regularly even in areas that lack cosmopolitan cities, and perhaps even end up as middlemen between them.

Settlements (meaning villages/colonies/dreys, as well as some blood camps) exist as a backdrop to the action, not its focus.  A party will likely stop at many villages in the course of their travels, and even do work for them - most settlements will welcome visitors, especially ones with wealth to spend, and care more about getting their problems fixed than who fixes them - but the adventuring life is not fulfilled in the farms of the Iskites or the orchards of the Gheen.

I could potentially see a campaign with a fairly (or totally) heterogeneous party that acts as "local troubleshooters" and has some long-term relationship with one or more local settlements, but that is not what I have in mind at present.  I don't mean to suggest that it would be "wrong;" a campaign focusing more on a single area and the relationships between the characters and those they aid, serve, and work with could be very interesting and fun.  The kind of world I'm trying to develop, however, is focused more on the eclectic band of outsiders, who find themselves ferreting out a Saffronite cult in Netai one year, thwarting the advances of the World-Queen in the Wash the next, and getting hired as Lodestone-seekers by the merchant houses of the Golden Principality the year after that, all the while confronting the problems of the various settlements they pass through and exploring strange ruins and lost cities on their way.  I hesitate to use "epic" to describe the setting, in that adventurers will not be "super-human," but I do see campaigns as being essentially epic in scope.

I think it would be wise to start campaigns in some of the specifically "multicultural" areas where the characters might remain until they have the expertise, resources, and cause to go elsewhere, and it is for that reason that I have been and will be focusing on those areas.  These are:

Greater Netai*Black Circle/City of Orpiment*Clockwise Wash/Feathervale

These areas are fairly distant from each other geographically, but all provide a locale where all four races have a visible presence and live together in some degree of proximity and/or cohabitation.  All have ongoing sources of conflict and adventure as well, whether it's the tense political situation of the Netai, the furious competition between merchants of the Circle, or the ongoing war between the World-Queen and the League of the Waterfall in the Clockwise Wash.

Great answer.

The Clockwork Jungle is only getting richer.  I really admire this setting - it's doing the things I think campaign building should be about (shattering old tropes, inventing new mythologies, evoking strong imagery, constructing an internal frame logical consistency) and it's doing them well.

Each update is worth the month-long wait.

I really enjoy your integration of the machines among the living world.  This would be a really nice setting for some sci-fi gaming.

When I first started this project I thought that a wiki might be the best way to organize it.  Now that the CBG has its own (one with a lot of potential, I might add), I've decided to pursue the Clockwork Jungle's development there.

What does this mean for this thread?  Not a lot, immediately.  I have a lot of non-CBG-related work right now, and it will take time just to port all the information in this thread into the wiki, and then unpack it into a form that is more wiki-friendly.  The giant race posts are an asset in a thread where navigation can be difficult, but in a wiki people expect links where they can choose the minutiae they're interested in and ignore what bores them.

Even as I move stuff over there, I will still be posting stuff here, particularly developed posts that I feel are polished/detailed enough to merit it.  This will also serve as my comment collection and response bin - I know the CBG staff is trying to get more people interested in commenting on wiki talk pages, but I for one prefer thread formats for discussions.

About comments - it makes me feel guilty at times to receive detailed, interesting, and challenging comments here when I am not returning the favor.  I apologize, and I hope to improve my contribution to the community at a time when I can afford it (for instance, I am in the midst of grad school application deadlines right now).

In the meantime, you can explore the wiki as it stands now by clicking on the Lodestar below.  Some info has been moved over (races), a lot hasn't (obsidian plain, khautas, etc.), and there are a few tidbits only on the wiki (a bit on Saffronites and the World-Queen, and a feature on the Ancients).  It's confusing now, especially since most of the wiki links are dead-ends, but in time you will be able to answer pointless wiki link questions like "how many clicks does it take me to get from 'Iskite Rum' to 'Umbril Poetry of the Vagrants' War?'"  And isn't that, after all, the point of a wiki?

Thanks for your time and interest.  I really do enjoy sharing my hobby with others (as I suspect we all do) and I appreciate any opportunity I get to give you something to think/write/talk about.

[blockquote=Polycarp!]I am in the midst of grad school application deadlines right now[/blockquote]
I can relate!

Thoughts on Magic

I want to introduce game mechanics into the Clockwork Jungle eventually, which includes the mechanics of magic.  Before that happens, however, I want to know what magic will be like.  The more I work on the setting, the more I realize that magic is not something I can leave out for long - any decent magical tradition has an impact on the campaign world and the cultures therein unless it's so secretive that virtually nobody knows about it.

I don't like how "magic" is commonly used.  For us, it is defined as something other than physics - fireball is the supernatural, and a lamp oil bomb is natural.  I find it unlikely, however, that somebody who lived in a world with magic would distinguish it from normal physics.  Would someone in a magical world even have a word for magic?

Many of the intelligent species of the Forest are basically animistic in outlook, even if they also follow certain pantheons or ritual traditions, and I want a magic system that reflects that.  If there are spirits in all things, if the Forest itself is alive, then there should be magic in all things.  So let's say that all life is magic, from a lichen on a rock to a canopy wyrm soaring overhead.  Magic and life are synonymous, and there is no proper distinction between the 'normal' and the 'magical' in TCJ.

That said, I want ways for individuals to tap magic beyond that which they are born with.  Those with the knowledge and the strength of will required can draw on the innate magic of other living things to bolster their own.  "Channeling" is an overused word in fantasy and gaming, but it's a fairly accurate description of what I'm thinking about, and I can always change it later.

There could be multiple approaches to channeling - for example, some could channel the life-magic of other living things in harmony with them, while others could "steal" their life-magic from others.  But I want all to require, at their source, life '" no magic can be 'squeezed from a stone,' or from anything else that is not alive.  There is no amorphous 'force' or "weave" or magical ether, only the breath of an innumerable host of living things.

I also want to get rid of magic-using classes.  If everyone is magical (by virtue of being alive), everyone can potentially learn to channel.  The kind of magic I want is subtle, not flashy, something used to augment one's abilities no matter what your emphasis is.

So here's my first maxim of TCJ magic:

Any sentient being can channel.  There is no secret arcane lore to master, or esoteric rituals to conduct.  The magic of others is summoned through inner focus and force of will.  Some are more innately talented than others, but practice and time is more important than talent.  Most individuals, having little talent and not much time to practice, have only the barest ability to channel, but even they may do it unconsciously.  The blacksmith who creates a masterpiece has often channeled, though he may not know it '" his great concentration and focus have drawn a trickle of the life-magic to him, and it is reflected in his work.  A legendary orator draws power from his audience through his force of will, subtly augmenting his own abilities.  In some sense, learning any task that requires concentration makes it easier to channel.

So in that sense, the Clockwork Jungle is a 'high magic world' '" virtually everyone has some minor ability to channel, even if it's often so minor as to not be represented by mechanics.  It is an accepted truth that those in the right mental state can perform at a higher level not simply because of their own skill, but the vitality they share with others, whether purposefully or accidentally invoked.

In another sense, however, it's quite low magic '" channeling's effects tend to be subtle, especially for the vast majority of sentients, who do not devote great resources to mastering it.

So that's where I am at present.  More to follow as I think of it.

So I've got a basic idea of what magic should be, but I need to get more specific.

I like the idea of harmonious and destructive ways to access this 'life-magic' (I'll need a better name for that), so let's start with that duality.  I don't want to approach it as simply as 'good vs. evil,' though certainly destructive channeling could be seen as more morally questionable.  I'd like for morality to depend primarily on what you do with the magic, not on its basic essence.

Sympathetic channeling uses the life of others in a non-damaging way.

Antipathetic channeling destructively saps the life of others, weakening (or even killing) them.

This could be one of those risk vs. reward things, where the 'negative' magic gives more power but also entails greater risk.  Or, it the two ways could be better at certain things '" if you want to smite somebody, antipathetic is best, but if you want to effect a positive change in something you should use sympathetic.  Additionally, I need to decide the matter of access.  Do you choose one at the outset and stick with it, or are both available to everyone, or something in between?  Maybe they should be two separate 'skills,' so a character has to choose between a balanced, holistic approach (which gives you the most versatility) and a one-sided approach (which gives the most power).  There might be some synergy there, but the idea is that mastering one doesn't necessarily entail mastering the other.

The next thing to consider is the source.  We've established that magic comes from all life (actually, that magic is life), but it should probably matter where exactly you're getting it from.  After all, the Saffron Moss is alive too '" shouldn't a Saffronite get a different kind of power than someone who draws theirs from animals, or the Forest?  This could mesh with the sympathetic/antipathetic dimension too '" a Saffronite might get a bonus to antipathetic channeling, or maybe it would just be easier for him to learn.

Some possible sources:

Saffron Moss*The Forest*Aras Tay*Animals (including other sentients?)*Elder Wyrms, gods, etc.*Cogs?

The Moss and the Forest are shoo-ins.  The Aras Tay are interesting but I'm not sure their magic would be any different than that of the Forest, if indeed they are a different entity at all.  Animals are in too, including such beasts as wyrms, and I suppose sentients as well '" we'll lump all those into 'animals' for now.

'Gods' is problematic.  I don't want a world like FR where there is no mystery or ambiguity to the gods; I like worlds where religion is more like it is on earth, requiring faith and entailing some degree of doubt.  Some beings like the Elder Wyrms (basically really old, really huge wyrms who are often the centers of cult worship) do exist physically beyond any doubt, and these might be good candidates to get power from, but I don't think the standard spell-slinging cleric has much of a place here; magic in TCJ is available to all, not a divine gift.  I'm not sure I want to make any specific being a source unless it's a huge unitary being like the Forest/Moss.

I'm not sure about Cogs.  I never imagined them as really being 'alive,' not even Soldier Cogs.  But you've got ones like Ot, who can talk and philosophize, and I've already established that Cogs draw on magic for their power '" essentially, they are sympathetic channelers themselves.  Maybe that's how cogs are: By themselves, inert, they have no life-force and are dormant, but their enchanted machinery allows them to sympathetically 'tap into' channeling and acquire some fleeting life for themselves.  This adds an interesting angle to the 'mundane channeling' I talked about in the last post '" unconscious channeling would awaken and attract them just like conscious channeling, so you could have some poet give such an inspired performance that Cog baboons start congregating around him, or something.

It's true that if Cogs are basically life-force panhandlers, they might not be a very credible source for channeling.  But I could argue that as long as they have that little spark keeping them going, they are alive (though their 'life' isn't naturally their own), and thus a potential source.

So, throwing out gods, Elder Wyrms, and Aras Tay for now, we have something like this:
[note]'Weak' here implies a loose alignment with sympathetic or antipathetic as opposed to a stronger alignment, not that the source itself is weak.[/note]

Cogs (strong sympathetic)*Animals (weak sympathetic)*Forest (weak antipathetic)*Moss (strong antipathetic)

The Moss is obvious for SA.  Cogs, to me, are obvious for SS: their whole existence, as described above, operates off sympathetic channeling.  I could make arguments either way for WA/WS, but I see the animal channeler as more of a 'taking on an aspect of X' thing, which seems more sympathetic to me.  Besides, my forest is violent and destructive and tears down anything that gets in its way.

To be continued.

I'm still thinking about magic, but for now I'm more interested in the mechanics behind it '" that is, the system I'm going to use.  I have a basic system already, an outgrowth of the discussion this thread (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?51574), but that's not ready yet.  More things have been uploaded to the wiki, some things from this thread and some new stuff.

On the fluff front, I've decided to focus for now on the Black Circle, one of the three 'areas of interest' for new players and campaigns I mentioned earlier.  Cities are rare in the Jungle, for the simple reason that it is hard to support an urban population that doesn't hunt and gather for itself.  You may recall that in many respects, technology is quite primitive (remember "renaissance hunter-gatherers?"). The Iskites, for all their focus on farming, are no more advanced in that area than the ancient Sumerians, and rainforest soils are quite unproductive.  The Umbril make decent urbanites (and indeed, they are the core of most TCJ cities) because they can eat practically anything that rots, but in general cities only exist where, by some fluke of geography, fertility, or magic, a location can support a dense population.

And so we have the 'Jewels of the Obsidian Crown,' the flowery name to describe the six 'cities' that form the backbone of the Black Circle route.  Many small outposts exist along the way, most of them tiny villages or seasonal encampments, but these six endure and boast populations only rivaled by the island-cities of the Netai.

[ic=Among the Tranquil]take me, Master
to see the Petals fall
on that Silent Day when
the World falls with them
- Anonymous, carved into a trellis in the Grove of Tranquility[/ic]


It was the Iskites who first named this place in a now-forgotten time '" before the Recentering, before the Prophets, before their people worked iron or put ink to paper.  To the modern itinerants of the Black Circle, it is the Servants' Grove, the Enclave of Sublime Slavery, or simply 'Bliss.'  Yet the bliss it offers is not the kind most wish to embrace.  It is a place of wonder, beauty, and persistent unease, where the weight of time is ever-present on a traveler's mind.

The Grove of Tranquility lies in a ragged stripe of low forest, the ill-defined border area between the sodden expanse of the Flowering Moors and the echoing wastes of the Chalklands.  It was only the advent of the Black Circle as a dominant trade route that made the ageless Grove into a populated place '" before then, it was anathema, a place few went willingly.  Wealth will make creatures do strange things, and now it is has been drawn into the cycle of trade, risk, and adventure, a perfect circle of timeless peace in a swirling current of volatile modernity.

Even the city's regular residents call it 'the Grove,' but this is misleading '" there is only one tree here.  It is enormous, with a trunk measuring over 600 feet in circumference.  Around the tree are seventeen concentric circular canals, crossed by six canals that run perpendicular to the rest, like spokes on a wheel.  The tree's trunk does not touch the ground; enormous roots branch off from the trunk starting hundreds of feet into the air and descend in twisting paths to the various moats below, until the trunk dwindles to nothing '" and in fact, the central 'island,' directly beneath the tree's trunk, has no roots touching it.

The Grove is the dwelling-place of the Caretaker (also called the 'Unflowering One,' or simply 'the Master' to its worshippers).  The Caretaker is a hunched figure whose features are obscured in shimmering veils of an almost ethereal consistency.  Its only clearly visible features are its featureless 'face,' which looks like the bud of a flower just before it blooms, and the snaking whitish-green tendrils that function as its arms.  It is quite large '" it always appears hunched over, but still stands ten feet tall.  It skims over the ground without any visible footprints or audible steps.  The Caretaker does not actually seem to 'fly,' but despite its massive form, it can leap and bound up the tree's roots with effortless precision.  It carries a great pruning hook made from a silvery-white metal.  Its 'function' appears to be cultivating the tree, and it spends most of its time tirelessly pruning and shaping the tree's glacial growth.

Interaction with the Caretaker is limited in the extreme.  It ignores those who approach it.  It does not speak, though the rustling of its many cloaks sounds like a chorus of whispers.  If it is attacked, it stops briefly, and simply adds the offender to its roster of 'boatmen' '" for there is a reason it is also called the Servant's Grove.  The Caretaker '" or perhaps the Tree itself '" always maintains a complement of servants, known as Boatmen.  The Caretaker takes them as it wishes, moving up to its target like a swift wind and touching them only once.  Those its touches become its servants, and acquire a singularly disturbing expression of perfect contentment.  The Boatmen '" who appear to be chosen at random from those who enter the Grove '" weed the grounds, maintain the trellises of lesser plants, and pilot small, wooden punts (a boat driven by a barge-pole) around the canals.  There are between 30 and 60 of them at any one time, and they will take a visitor on their punts if asked '" but will never speak, or change the mask of bliss on their faces.  They do not hunger, or thirst, or age.  If they are abducted, they do not fight back, but as soon as they are free they begin steadily walking back towards the Grove, no matter how far it is.

The Boatmen are released as abruptly as they are taken '" suddenly, they are free, with no fanfare or ceremony at all.  They remember their service, and generally recall feeling overwhelming love and devotion towards the Tree more powerful than anything they had ever experienced before.  Some recover quickly from their experience, while others are forever changed, or join the cultists that worship at the Tree's base.  Most have some sort of "withdrawal," describing the world without devotion to the Tree as cold, dark, and joyless in comparison.  A few never do pass this phase - they go into an incurable melancholy and waste away shortly thereafter, wander off in a daze never to be seen again, or collapse into inconsolable sorrow and retreat into a bottle for the rest of their lives.

The 'term' of a Boatman seems to vary between a week and several years, with no apparent pattern for most.  Those that do violence to the Boatmen or the Tree become new Boatmen, often for a very long time (one of the current Boatmen is an Iskite called only 'the Elder' who has been a Boatman for 61 years and counting).  The only interruption to this routine was in the latter days of the Orange Strife, when a large armed company descended on the Tree with pitch and torches, believing it to be an instrument of the arcane that needed to be destroyed.  With a single gesture (according to a few stragglers who observed it firsthand), the entire force fell under the Caretaker's spell.  Silently, they entered the Grove, each one going to a different root and kneeling in front of it.  Just as silently, the Caretaker went from man to man on a Boatman's punt, stopping at each kneeling bandit to swiftly decapitate him with its pruning hook, until none remained '" an expression of sublime peace on their faces until the end.  Their blood watered the tree and the Boatmen made trellises out of their bones, many of which can still be seen today (along with the more mundane trellises, crafted from fallen bark or cultivated by the Caretaker from the Tree's smaller roots).  Armor and weapons littered the Grove for years afterward, though scavengers have since taken them away with no interference from the Caretaker.

The first settlements were outside the Grove, as travelers feared to enter.  During the Recentering, however, refugees fled into the Grove to find sanctuary from the troubles of the world, and the 'city' has since grown under the shade of the tree's roots.  Neither the Caretaker nor the Boatmen seem to mind development so long as it does not injure the Tree or upset the trellises.  The city has no roads, only canals, and its residents live, work, and trade right on the water.  Visitors who wish to go somewhere need only wait for a Boatman; larger cargo barges must be piloted by others, for the Boatmen do not tarry to load cargo, and are never in any particular haste.  In this way, the Caretaker and its men live symbiotically with the city.  The residents provide more than enough folk to keep the Caretaker's 'staff' full, and the moats protect the residents (as does the reputation of the Caretaker, who has demonstrated his ability to single-handedly stop a small army).  It is uncertain if the Caretaker cares or even knows about the city or its people, gliding over them or among them without ever acknowledging their existence.

The Tree of Tranquility itself produces little '" it flowers every year, and eventually its flowers fall in a pink blizzard of petals the size of dinner plates, but it never bears any fruit.  Attempts to harvest its wood or sap inevitably end with the arrival of the Caretaker and a new Boatman being added to the labor force.  The residents have found that anything they plant is pulled up by the Boatmen as a weed, but they are free to pick from the trellises that bear fruit.  Most of the trade conducted in the settlement consists of merchants from the Black Circle buying goods from the Greater Netai, or vice versa.

The city's population is mostly Umbril and Tahr.  The Umbril dredge decaying organic matter from the canals and eat it, while the Tahr gather fruit from the trellises and lead hunting parties outside the grove.  There is a small Ussik population here too, far from their homeland in the Wash.  They live off fish transplanted here generations ago from the Flowering Moors.  The population is split not along racial lines, but between the 'Blacks' (travelers and traders on the Black Circle who do not reside permanently in the City), 'Greens' (permanent residents, mostly descended from refugees of the Recentering), and 'Pinks' (the Society of the Seed, a pink-robed cult of silence that worships the Caretaker as a god).

As the safety of the city is maintained by the Caretaker, there is little need for strong rulership, and the Greens adhere largely to a Umbril mode of 'governance' where power is exercised informally and behind the scenes among those who care to exercise it.  The city has no militia and few weapons save those needed for hunting.  In the outer circles of the city, where Blacks dominate, agents of foreign merchant houses, flyer outfits, and smuggling rings are found in abundance - the Greens in general aren't very interested in the trade and are content to let the outsiders do what they want as long as it doesn't spill over into the Green-dominated rings.  Life in the outer rings can be dangerous and deadly as a result.  A handful of private thief-takers are the only real law there, and some of them are as corrupt as the criminals they chase.  The further in one goes, however, the less this kind of behavior is tolerated.

The Society of the Seed has its own masters who instruct the cult's initiates and concern themselves very little with the bustling trade of the outer circles.  By common agreement, only the members of the Society are permitted in the 'sanctuary,' the innermost circle (though the Boatmen are not privy to this arrangement and will blissfully take anyone anywhere).  There is a simple monastery there, in the shade of the tree's trunk, where full members of the Society reside and worship.  The Society members are unobtrusive and always silent, but there are persistent rumors that the Pinks sacrifice intelligent beings in their monastery to "water the Tree" and hasten the apocalyptic "Coming of the Seed."  Their dogma is little known outside their own ranks, which only encourages such rumors.

Traveling clockwise, the next Jewel in the Obsidian Crown is the Rookery, and the section of the Black Circle that lies between them is the one most heavily traveled by khauta.  No flyer could possibly miss the towering Tree, and a facility has been constructed to aid intrepid dendronauts.  There is an aerial docking platform for skiffs and smokeships in the tree's branches, secured to the tree by heavy ropes of twisted Saryet silk, which can be accessed from the ground by several long rope ladders.  Three lead pipes wrapped in heavy cloth run down from the platform to a trio of beehive-shaped furnaces on the ground.  Here, wood (cut from outside the Grove, of course) is burned to produce hot smoke, which is piped up to refill canopy skiffs so they never need to touch the ground.  A pair of large treadwheel cranes on the platform are used to raise and lower pallets of goods.

The Blacks tell a lot of queer stories about the Greens and Pinks at other stops on the Black Circle, and the permanent residents have a reputation for being a little bit odd, supposedly due to the fey influence of the Caretaker.  Elsewhere on the Circle, the term "Boatmen" is sometimes erroneously used to describe the residents as a whole.  Some suggest that all the residents are under some kind of mind-control, and a few traders refuse to go there at all for fear they will never be able to leave.

I am guilty of neglecting this thread, if not the setting.  This is because I've been focusing my work (when I get the time for it) on the wiki (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Clockwork_Jungle).  I do still intend to post big updates here when I polish them enough, but for now if you're interested in reading more the wiki is the place to go.  I would like to share with you some of the more complete pages on the wiki that aren't in this thread:

The

Recentering (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Recentering), my newly re-imagined "big event" that sets the stage for the modern Clockwork Jungle
*The World-Queen (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Auk_Yrta_Su%27u) and her empire (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Yrtan_Empire), as well as those who oppose her (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=League_of_the_Waterfall)
*The wyrms (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Wyrm_%28Clockwork_Jungle%29) and their immortal lords (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Elder_Wyrms), two of which have been written up
*Saffronites (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Saffronite) and Indigo Chapters (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Indigo_Chapter), enemies locked in struggle across the Forest
*And more, if you follow some links around.[/list]
Also, I'm going to be the first up for LC's "Author Q&A Series" on the CBG's chat channel, so stay tuned to that thread (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?62761.last) if you'd like to ask me anything (really - anything at all) or just tell me what you think.

[ic=A Tahr Aphorism]Where you find a banner, there are many who clamor to carry it; but where you find a burden, there is only the sound of the wind in the trees.[/ic]



It is sometimes said that the category of 'civilized race' is extended to the Tahro only out of charity.  Unlike the Gheen, Iskites, and Umbril, the Tahro are not sedentary, though they do return to established camps on a seasonal basis.  Their living groups are quite small, and they neither cultivate the earth nor forge metals.  Even before the Recentering, they set themselves apart from the others, choosing to live under the shadow of aliens rather than embrace the power of the Oracle Tree.  Aliens see their deep traditionalism as obstinate and foolish, but their reluctance to accept the ways and cultures of others has also preserved them as a people against far more organized adversaries.  The Tahro are not, in any fair sense of the word, 'uncivilized,' despite the opining of alien philosophers '" but they are protective of their own civilization, an ancient bulwark of strength against a raging world that gleefully tears down the weak.

[spoiler=Physiology]Tahro are large, physically imposing apes.  To a native of our world, they would appear to be built like a slender, more erect gorilla, but in the low gravity environment of the Clockwork Jungle they are perceived as quite bulky and stout.  An adult male weighs around 350 pounds and is about seven feet tall; for comparison, they are 75% heavier than a female Iskite despite having the same average height.  Female Tahro are usually a few inches shorter and 20-50 pounds lighter than the males.  Though they have a more erect posture than earth gorillas and are no more predisposed to knuckle-walking than to an upright gait, they still appear somewhat hunched and rarely draw themselves up to their full height unless trying to intimidate.

Though they are gorilla-like in size and build, their features are more suggestive of a Drill (the monkey, not the power tool).  They have golden eyes, long nasal bridges, and short, sharp fangs.  They have thick, coarse hair on their backs and legs, with finer and shorter hair on most of the rest of their body.  Their hands, the soles of their feet, and their faces are hairless.  Their skin is a subdued grey color, and their hair is most often reddish-brown, though it can vary from a fairly vivid red to a very dark brown.  Adult males have a 'mane' of lighter, reddish-gold fur around their face that appears much larger when they are angry or feel threatened.

The Tahro are renowned for their strength and stamina, though they lack the phenomenal healing of the Iskites or the resistance to toxins shared by the Umbril and Gheen.  They are capable of continuing physical exertion for far longer than any of these aliens, and are considered more than a match against them in hand-to-hand combat.

Tahro can climb trees large enough to support their weight, but are primarily creatures of the forest floor.  Though they are no great leapers like the Gheen, they have been known to jump between stout understory branches to get over an obstacle or come at an enemy from an unexpected direction.  They are not monkeys and do not brachiate.

Tahr hearing is quite acute, and their eyes work very well in low light conditions.  Their senses are otherwise unremarkable, save for their magnetic sense.  The Tahr are capable of intuitively sensing the pull of the Grandmother Mountain and always know in what general direction it lies.  Though this is nowhere near as accurate as a proper lodestone compass and can't guide a Tahr to precise locations a long distance away, it does prevent them from getting hopelessly lost, and is an asset on their constant migrations.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Language]Of all the languages of the creatures of the Forest, the languages of the Tahro would be those most familiar to humans.  They speak in low-pitched, sonorous voices, without either the clicks and trills of the Gheen or the hissing and ingressive 'gasping' sounds of the Iskite Luminous Tongue.  The Tahro, however, have more regional variability in language than any other alien species.  Bloods that share a Red Camp have few linguistic differences (or none at all), but those in different regions have languages that are seldom mutually intelligible.  An alien who learned the Tahr language of Koldon's Well will find it does him little good among the Black Blood or the Tahro of the Netai.

Tahr script, however, is logographic, and though the symbols may be pronounced in wildly different ways, most Tahr will be able to understand the general content of a written message regardless of which Tahr language it was written in.  Because one can easily understand Tahr writing without necessarily being able to pronounce Tahr speech, Tahr writing is used by aliens in some locations as a means of trade and diplomacy with other aliens even when Tahro aren't involved.  Tahr numerals have been adopted into most written languages save the Luminous Tongue, which retains its own numeric system because of its distinctive line structure (and Iskite pride in their 'universal' language).[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Life Cycle]Tahro are mammals and have live births after a 8 month pregnancy.  Like humans, the vast majority bear a single child, though twins and triplets do happen on rare occasions.

Children are raised chiefly by their parents, though the other Tahro of the blood play a role.  The child is taught the skills of survival by its parents.  Male children are tutored as hunters, while female children usually learn specific crafts like painting, weaving, herbalism, and blacksmithing.  The forest floor is dangerous and Tahr children are kept under close watch during their development.

Adulthood among the Tahro occurs not when an individual reaches physical maturity, but when they are considered strong enough to help defend the blood.  A Tahr must have a significant kill to his or her name, usually of some large game animal or a reasonably dangerous predator (though in times of war, an alien may suffice).  A Tahr that reaches physical maturity, usually around 16-22 years of age, becomes a 'sub-adult.'  This differs from childhood only in that they are taken along on hunting trips (or raids, during war) that they may be granted an opportunity to prove themselves and take on the mantle of 'real' adulthood.  An adult Tahr (of either sex) abandons his/her childhood name and is given a new one by the blood.  An adult gains the right to paint him/herself, the right to participate in religious rites, and the right to take a mate.

An elder Tahr's coarse hairs on the back and legs begin to gray as he ages.  For males, the mane starts to grow dull after their reproductive years end.  They eventually grow infirm and die, and are interred within the ground by the members of their blood.  The Tahro return to the earth, and their grave is never marked, out of fear that evil spirits or the Saffron Moss may use any marking to disturb the rest and peaceful decomposition of their fallen kin.  They are always buried with their heads towards the Grandmother Mountain to assist them in navigating the afterlife.

The Tahro usually live to around 150 years of age if spared an unnatural death.  Many bloods have tales of long-dead patriarchs who lived far longer than this, but this is likely exaggeration accumulated in oral histories over time.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Society]Tahr society centers around the blood, an extended family composed of the patriarch, his mate, his children (save his adult daughters, who are likely living with other bloods), his daughters-in-law, and his grandchildren, as well as any of his brothers not powerful or prolific enough to have their own bloods (and their descendents).  The blood is the fundamental unit of society, and its members are expected to be loyal to it above all else.  They do not subscribe to the 'immortality of the blood' that Gheen do, but family is nonetheless important to them, and is the fundamental basis of their understanding of the world and the place of society within it.  They are expected to give and sacrifice for their family, which is its own reward, and to do so stoically and without bitterness or regret.  There are distinct channels through which a Tahr shares its feelings, primarily through ritual, battle, and music, and outside of these channels they are typically phlegmatic and terse in nature and speech.  They are seldom clearly excited or curious and react to most new things and developments with dispassion.  Outsiders find Tahro to be stubborn, cold, ignorant, and incurious, but they are also determined, prudent, magnanimous, loyal, and generous.

Tahr bloods revolve around the patriarch, whose station comes from age, not ability.  Patriarchs must be respected and have a great deal of children in order to break off and form their own blood, but most patriarchs came to the position simply through the death of their father and their position as the eldest son.  There is no societal basis on which to challenge a patriarch's leadership '" an individual can either accept it or leave the blood.  Patriarchs are often given advice from their mates, brothers, and sons, and the wise ones solicit it and consult with their family.  Still, in the end their word is law within the blood, and they must be treated with the respect they are due even if their judgment is clouded by age.

Tahro are semi-nomadic, and move between a variety of camps in the course of a year.  They are 'semi' nomadic because these migrations are generally cyclical, with the same camps being used year after year.  This is done primarily because the Tahro are voracious eaters that would deplete any one camp of game quite quickly if they did not allow time for the area to recover.  Some bloods maintain 'alternate' camps for different seasons in case of danger or changing conditions, and many have camps near alien settlements for trade purposes.  They refer to all their camps on the basis of color '" one that is inhabited in the Green season will be called the Green Camp, and further refinements are sometimes used (Late Yellow, Blue-Indigo, etc.)  Multiple bloods (usually 4-8, but sometimes as many as a dozen) share a single 'Red Camp' where they meet during the Red Season.

During the Red Season, the usual Tahr lifestyle is put on hold.  This time is the most important part of the year on the Tahr spiritual calendar, and every day is marked by a different religious ceremony.  Bloods are forgotten, and all Tahro reaffirm their identity as one 'universal blood' that encompasses all their species.  The Red Season is also the time for exchanging news, stories, and chants, as well as trading and recreating with friends and cousins not seen since last year.  Most importantly of all, these meetings are where mate selection takes place.  For males, many of the religious ceremonies serve double duty as tests of mettle, prowess, and stamina '" long-term seclusion in sweat lodges (a practice adopted from the Gheen), exhausting physical feats, ritual hunts, and even pain-endurance rites.  Females endure very similar rites during this season, but they do not hunt.  These acts have ritual significance but are also designed to allow young adults to showcase their desirability as a mate.

By necessity, Tahr courtship is fast '" many Tahr take the Blood Oath (as Tahr 'marriage' is called) after the two-week courtship of the Red Season, before which they may not have even met before.  Blood Oaths must be approved by the patriarchs of the couple's respective bloods, but this is traditionally given unless one of the Tahr has committed a crime or is otherwise undesirable to the other blood.  When the Oath is approved, the female is 'given' to the male's blood in a ceremony at the end of the Red Season, and the male's blood gives a suitable gift in return.  The female joins the blood of her mate and leaves with them when the great meeting is dismissed.

There is no societal sanction against abrogating the Blood Oath (that is, divorce) in Tahr culture.  Many mates do remain mates for life, but a Tahr of either sex that finds their mate unsatisfactory can easily end their relationship at the next Red Season.  In fact, the Blood Oath itself only lasts for one year; Tahr mates endure the same 'marriage' ceremony year after year.  A pair that does not wish to remain a pair needs only to skip the ceremony.  Not wanting to renew the Blood Oath is not considered an insult or slight to one's mate, and 'ex-mates' usually remain on friendly terms.

Thus, Tahro who do not find a partner they wish to commit to (or one who wishes to commit to them) live out a series of annual 'serial marriages.'  Children stay with the father's blood, so a child could conceivably have a rather long list of 'mothers' who helped raise him as his father takes new mates.  Mothers are expected to treat their children and step-children equally and generally make an earnest effort to do this.

Reciprocal gift-giving is critically important to Tahr culture.  Nothing is bought, sold, or bartered, save with aliens, who tend to have a rather poor understanding of the custom.  Gifts are given for even the most minor of occasions; for instance, Tahro do not celebrate birthdays yearly, but weekly.  Gift-giving, however, is not frivolous. Gifts are utilitarian and valuable '" food, tools, clothing, and so on.  Those who receive gifts are expected to give back in turn.  Through mutual generosity, the blood cooperates and thrives.  Among the Tahro, selfishness is the cardinal vice.  Aliens often make light of the custom as simply another way of describing 'barter,' but the Tahro insist that real gift-giving comes without material expectations.  One should expect only generosity, and to that end be as generous as possible so others return the favor.  The Tahro seek to continually outdo each other in generosity, but are also careful not to give a gift they know the recipient cannot possibly reciprocate (this is considered rude).[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Habitat] More than any other civilized race, the Tahro favor ruins.  The ruins of the Ancients provide perfect seasonal camps, as they are permanent and often much easier to defend than undeveloped Forest.  The Tahro value good ruins highly, and will explore new complexes they come across to see if they are fit for use.  The work of the Ancients is believed to have certain sacred properties, and it is considered auspicious to maintain ruins camps, especially a Red Camp.  Such settling is done carefully, however, as some ruins are still guarded by Cogs, or may be homes to more recent occupants.

The Tahro sometimes shape the Forest for their own purposes if good ruins are not available.  Trees will be planted and pruned yearly in order to make 'living palisades' that provide sites with some additional protection; if done well enough, the growth appears natural, and few will suspect that a solid tangle of branches and brambles is actually the wall of a seasonal camp.  The Forest is notoriously difficult to restrain or thin, but easy to coax into growing even thicker.

Tahr camps are not highly developed.  The Tahro build no permanent structures, simply constructing lean-tos and shallow burrows when the blood arrives.  Unlike the Umbril, who rely on stealth and concealment to protect themselves, the Tahro are capable of fighting off most forest floor predators.  Still, they do not invite trouble, and favor naturally strong defensive locations and conceal them with leaves and branches.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Warfare]For the Tahro, physical defenses like walls and palisades serve to keep out wandering predators, and are not a means of defeating any enemy.  That task is borne by a blood's warriors.  Tahr warfare takes two basic forms.

Disputes or vendettas against two Tahr bloods may progress to a 'blood war.'  Usually, this is the result of a dispute over a particularly good ruin, the dishonor of a family member, or theft (which is considered as heinous as murder, as it sabotages the principle of generosity).  Individual Tahr who are wronged will seek a duel with the one responsible, usually during the Red Season, and have the option of killing or sparing their enemy if they win.  Tahr duels are fought unarmed, and have few rules.  If the duel is refused or offenses continue, the bloods may take up the vendetta and go to war.  War between bloods follows a strict ritual code, but still can be fatal.  Surprise attacks against another blood are forbidden.

Against aliens, all restrictions are off.  The Tahro use surprise whenever they can and do not restrain themselves with ritual.  Individual bloods rarely war with aliens; instead, several patriarchs make the decision together.  The Tahro are prudent about war and seek to build up alliances with other bloods and even alien settlements before committing themselves to action.  They often give gifts to alien allies, but will not fight with aliens they believe are only fighting because of such gifts.  The Tahro favor fast, decisive battles where they are on the offensive.  They will allow opponents to flee a lost battle, but do not typically take prisoners.

Tahr warriors in blood wars are always male; upholding the blood's honor is considered an exclusively male obligation.  Against aliens, warriors are usually male, but females will join if the stakes are high or if the blood or its camps are in danger.  The Tahro favor surrounding their opponent and charging into melee combat immediately, though they will often throw a volley of axes, bolas, nets, and spears just before the charge.  They often wear light armor but prefer to not restrict their movement too much with the heavy armors favored by the Iskites.  The Tahro themselves do not forge metal, and their blacksmiths only sharpen and repair tools and weapons, so they usually lack the resources to make metal armor anyway.  In general, they fight more as individual warriors than a cohesive whole, which sometimes puts them at a disadvantage against more organized Iskite (or sometimes Umbril) forces.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Art and Music]Chanting fulfills religious, social, and artistic purposes in Tahr culture.  All Tahr adults have some chanting ability; the best of these are the blood's Lore-speakers, who serve as the memory of the blood (since the Tahro write very little down).  They commit many long chants to memory that recount the history of the blood as related by heroic acts, excellent gifts, notable wars and conflicts, noble sacrifices, and distinguished patriarchs.  Chanting by all members of Tahr society is used both formally (in religious ceremonies and before hunts and other events) as well as casually, to keep time while cracking nuts or weaving cloth or to entertain one's fellows over a campfire.

Instruments are not generally used to accompany chanting, save for certain religious rituals.  Hand-held drums and clappers are the most common varieties of these, but the Tahro also use pipes and other wind instruments unaccompanied.  Circular breathing is a skill Tahro are born with, not a learned technique, and they can chant or play a wind instrument for an hour or more without stopping for breath.

The Tahro create only the art they can take with them '" or carry on their bodies.  Tahr adults regularly paint themselves, especially the hands and face.  Paint is used instead of tattoos because these patterns change frequently.  Face-painting is critical before a hunt, a battle, or any ceremony of any kind, and is often done even when no significant event is forthcoming.  It may carry some significance to members of the blood or other bloods within the larger group, telling of an individual's age, accomplishments, offspring, or availability for the blood oath.  These kind of meanings vary drastically between regions.

Most Tahr art consists of decorations of everyday objects.  Virtually no object owned by the Tahro is without patterns, pigments, beads, engravings, or some other embellishment.  Even objects acquired from trade with aliens (like most Tahr weapons) are augmented with designs, tassels, paints, and so on.  The Tahro consider this to be the real purpose of art, and don't see much point in an 'art object' that has no purpose besides looking pretty.  To own such a thing would only mean additional weight and encumbrance for no real purpose.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Food]The Tahr diet is rather like that of bears.  Hunting is an important part of their diet and culture, but they also eat a great deal of tubers, berries, fruits, and other products of the Forest.  They find grains tasteless and the meatless diet of the Gheen insubstantial (and, of course, have no love for Umbril cuisine).  Drying food is practically impossible in the humid jungle, so the Tahro use other methods to preserve their food supply.  The Tahro smoke most of their meat and pickle some fruits and vegetables in vinegar or alcohol.  Preserved meat is often stored in caches at seasonal camps; it is placed in a clay jug with hot ashes and buried underground.  In this way, nothing is wasted, and the blood is well supplied both on the move and whenever they return to an old camp.

The Tahro do make some alcohol from fermented fruit, which is used both for drinking and for preserving food.  'Tuber Beer' is a common Tahr drink, made from ginger and starchy roots mixed with honey or cane juice that is allowed to ferment.  When honey is found, it is often made into mead.  The Tahro do not have the technology for distillation, and usually trade with the Iskites for such spirits.  Mead is sometimes consumed ritually during certain Red Season rites.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Recreation]Tahr recreation is primarily physical in nature.  They prefer wrestling and running to the games of the Umbril, partially because the skills learned and maintained in wrestling matches help to sustain and protect their community.  Bola-throwing is the centerpiece of several Tahr sports; Tahro may compete to wrap bolas around set posts at long range, or seek to entangle each other while dodging back and forth.

Because Tahr culture is largely oral, few books or manuscripts are kept by a blood and none are made.  Those that the blood does retain are usually foreign works of utilitarian value, or novelties of culture or philosophy owned by a single Tahr.  These works often circulate throughout the blood over time, with the expectation that eventually they will work their way back to the original owner, who by that time may be interested in reading them again.  Such things are rarely carried with a blood, and a blood with a particular literary interest may keep small stockpiles of books and scrolls in caches throughout their migratory route, so each camp has its own small library.

The Tahro and Umbril have a similar outlook when it comes to the use of mind-altering substances '" they serve a serious ritual purpose, and 'recreational' use is self-contradictory.  Many Tahr bloods have incorporated Umbril pharmacological knowledge into their rituals, especially around the Red Season. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Religion]It may come as unsurprising that a nomadic people conceive of the spiritual realm as a journey.  The predominant Tahr belief is that the yearly cyclical migration is merely a physical reflection of a more important metaphysical cycle between life and death.  The individual is only present in his material body for part of this journey; when he dies, the soul wanders elsewhere, to return when the time is right and begin a new life among the bloods.  Most Tahro thus believe in reincarnation: a Tahr will return as a new Tahr in time, even if he has no memory of it.  'Memory' is believed to be a property of the physical world; the spirit itself lives only in the present and lacks any knowledge of the past or apprehension of the future.  Memory is the burden of the living, to be gratefully shed upon death and solemnly shouldered when one returns.

A great deal of Tahr ritual concerns preparing oneself for the spiritual journey after death.  Just like a 'real' migration, preparations are needed, and one must take precautions against the dangers of the spirit realm that exists both within and parallel to the 'real' world.  One can, it is said, get lost in the world of the spirits, and never return to life.  As spirits do not have memories, however, the preparations are not memorized lists or advice, but a cultivation of the 'essence of the soul' through asceticism, meditation, chanting-trance, and other processes.  Upon death, a spirit is laid bare before the world '" it literally knows nothing except itself.  The purpose of ritual, then, is to refine the self to a point where one will naturally be able to navigate the great cyclical journey and return to life again.  The Tahro believe preparation for death must begin at birth, for death may come quickly and unexpectedly like an assassin spider, and they involve even the youngest of children in their religious practices.  Tradition and religion are inextricable in Tahr culture; it is impossible to disentangle one from the other, and the Tahr often assert that there is no appreciable difference between the two.  The journey is eternal and unchanging; so too is tradition.

For the most part, Tahro do not concern themselves with the question of what happens to aliens after they die.  A minority of Tahro believe in 'transincarnation,' the idea that a dead Tahr does not necessarily return to life as a Tahr '" all sentients (or alternately, all animals, or even all beings) share the same manner of spirit, and thus frequently return as another kind of life altogether.  Proponents of this idea are generally split as to whether one's new form is essentially random or a reward (or punishment) for behavior in the world of the living (and if the latter, what entity is doing the rewarding and punishing).

The Tahro are generally ambivalent about things such as 'gods.'  They recognize that there are beings much powerful than themselves, but deny that power in the physical world necessarily translates into power in the spiritual one '" a powerful entity may kill you, but it cannot extinguish your spirit.  The Tahro give respect to those beings they see as more enlightened than themselves, because these beings serve as examples to those who wish a purer essence of the soul.  They withhold real worship, however, to those beings they believe have the capability to exist in both worlds, or to cross between them trivially.  Chief among these are the dragonflies, represented by the dragonfly messenger-god Ath, who serve as intermediaries between the physical and the spiritual.  These 'children of Ath' are believed to fly between worlds, and carry the souls of the newly dead and nearly reborn.  They are seen in Tahr culture as harbingers of both death and birth, and it is considered a great sin to harm them.
[note=Dragonflies]Dragonflies in the Clockwork Jungle (more correctly, 'Wyrmflies') are more like dragonflies on prehistoric Earth; some species reach a wingspan of three feet.[/note][/spoiler]
[spoiler=Adventurers]Tahr bloods allow their adult members to come and go as they please.  The world beyond the community is dangerous, but to leave is ultimately the decision of the individual, not the patriarch.  Tahr bloods tend to be self-regulating '" when the population grows too high, the blood splits, and when it dips too low, the blood may join another it is related to (at least for a time).  Thus, the Tahro are much less concerned about members leaving than the Iskites are, but they do consider it supremely irresponsible to abandon one's own children (if they are not yet adults).

As a result, many (perhaps most) Tahr adventurers are not young adults straight out of adolescence '" instead, they mated early on, raised children to adulthood, and only left the blood around 40-50 years of age.  As Tahro do not really begin to suffer the infirmities of age until they are a century old, this still leaves plenty of time for an active career in the wider world.

Young Tahr adventurers usually left on a less positive note, having fallen out with their blood or Tahr society in general.  Others are exiles, cast out of the blood for committing a crime or because of a particularly bitter vendetta with a patriarch. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Relations]The Tahro stoically suffer the oddities of aliens; they consider it only proper to bear with the antics of others and not burst forth in annoyance or anger.  They are not made of stone, however, and even a Tahr has his limits.  In general, the Tahro have very little interest in the lives or customs of others, preferring their own traditions and customs and leaving alien things to the aliens.  They are usually self-confident enough that they do not fear the corrupting influence of foreigners, but they also know that aliens are often grasping and ambitious and have found that it rarely hurts to be suspicious.

The Tahro are not overly fond of the Iskites, who they see as haughty, self-centered, and callously destructive.  They don't care much whether the Iskites think of them as 'civilized' or not '" it's not important what outsiders think '" but do resent the way in which the Iskites lord themselves over the Tahro and others they believe to be their inferiors.  The Iskites do not give them the respect they believe should be extended to all sentient creatures.  Most egregiously, the Iskites occasionally settle on a Tahr seasonal camp when the blood is elsewhere; the blood returns only to find that the Iskites have destroyed it, turning carefully managed groves and sacred sites into fields and pasture.  The Iskites are seldom aware they are settling on a seasonal camp, but are dismissive of the 'rights' of non-sedentary beings and typically refuse to return the land.  Wars often result from such incidents, ending only when the blood gives up and relocates elsewhere, or when the village is destroyed and the Iskites are forced from their recently-acquired land.  This kind of conflict is not very common, however, and usually nearby villages and bloods maintain a lukewarm trading relationship, exchanging valuables and goods but not expanding their interactions beyond that.  Every Tahr blood has stories of Iskites destroying sacred camps or taking Tahr slaves, and have a deep distrust of the race as a result.

The Tahro find the personal habits of the Gheen to be frequently frustrating and sometimes downright annoying, but respect the 'tree sprites' (as they call them) and often maintain friendly relationships.  They find the Gheen devotion to family to be commendable, if perhaps a bit excessive, and believe them to be more capable of dealing in a forthright and honest manner than either the arrogant Iskites or the untrustworthy Umbril.  As a result, though the Tahro do not welcome the Gheens' ham-fisted and oblivious attempts to ingratiate themselves into Tahr culture, they do seek them out as trading partners and '" in times of war '" allies.  They conceive the Gheen as very different and yet unopposed to them, a culture that they have no interest in emulating, but nonetheless possessing enough merit to engender cooperation.  The Tahro usually trade decorated crafts and plant goods from the forest floor (which is dangerous for the Gheen to tarry in) for Gheen silk, metal, and pigments.  The Gheen have also introduced the Tahro to the khauta, which some Tahr bloods use to observe the land around them and plan new migration routes or reconnoiter possibly hostile villages or other settlements.  Bloods and dreys seldom ever come into conflict, as they do not share the same habitat and have no other reasons to be at odds.

The Tahro are very suspicious of the Umbril, who they share the Forest floor with.  They believe the Umbril to be overly self-confident, thinking themselves smarter and more clever than they are, yet still clever enough to be masters of deception.  The common Tahr conception of the Umbril is that they are pathological liars, incapable of telling the whole truth even when there is no reason to lie.  They suspect that the Umbril feel safe when they believe they know more than others, and because of this the Tahro often act purposefully oblivious even when they know an Umbril isn't telling the truth.  In a similar way, they know the Umbril sometimes cheat them in negotiations and trades, but prefer to let the Umbril get away with a little rather than pressing the issue and risk the Umbril cheating them in another way they don't know about.  The Tahro have very little faith in the Umbril moral fiber, but abide it in part because they believe the Umbril to be a part of the Forest, more like animals and Aras Tay than themselves, and thus restricted by their 'natural' inclinations and in some way unable to control their instincts.  They often act as regional intermediaries between Umbril colonies and other settlements, trading Umbril goods to those the Umbril would rather not meet personally.  Some cultural exchange has occurred between bloods and colonies, and Thalevin (known to the Tahro as the goddess Tholveth), the Umbril deity of renewal, fertility, healing, and giving, is more widely revered by Tahro than it is by the Umbril themselves.

Though membership in a blood is generally determined by heredity and marriage, the patriarch may choose to allow a non-related Tahr or even an alien to live with the blood and share in communal rites and obligations.  Though this is not exactly a common practice, if an alien shows an earnest desire to live according to tradition and has the potential to benefit the blood, he may be accepted as an honorary member.  Regardless of age, the new member must undergo the Tahr ritual of adulthood before they are granted full privileges in the community, but once this occurs they are treated more or less as an equal.  The most frequent blood-aliens are rogue Iskites, though some Gheen with an interest in Tahr culture may attempt it, and very rarely an exiled Umbril may turn to a blood for community and protection. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Varieties]The Tahro vary regionally with regards to coloration, but unusual populations are more typically identified by culture and tradition rather than physical features.

The Tahr bloods of the Feathervale, known collectively as the Exiles or the Banished Blood, were driven from their traditional camps by the World-Queen and now live in the Wash and the edges of Whitefen.  Many have pledged to never abandon the land they have lived in since time immemorial, and serve the League of the Waterfall against their oppressor.  They are known for the prevalence of dark green eyes in their population, something unknown within other Tahr communities.

The Black Blood is a population of Tahro that lives around the Sea of Serpents and in the perilous environment of the Chokereed.  They live primarily on the water, migrating in reed boats and hunting riparian game.  They are staunchly isolationist and frequently attack first and ask questions later when it comes to alien visitors.

The only 'Tahr City,' better understood as the largest Red Camp in the world, is the settlement of Koldon's Well on the Black Circle.  The bloods that travel there in the Red Season are considerably more cosmopolitan and technologically advanced than most of their kin, though they have resisted better than most the inclusion of "Black Circle culture" into their society.  Some have even become 'settled Tahr,' members of a unique blood called the Children of the Well that pledged itself generations ago to abandoning nomadism in order to guard the Red Camp against enemies while the other bloods are elsewhere.[/spoiler]

Finally the long-awaited Tahro!  And they don't disappoint.

One small fix just on first reading:

[blockquote=Polycarp!]The Black Blood is a population of Umbril that lives around the Sea of Serpents and in the perilous environment of the Chokereed.[/blockquote]I think you meant Tahro, not Umbril?

Yes, I did.  Fixed.

[ic=Ot, Further Ruminations]Those who argue so incessantly and inconclusively about 'what is death' should not be so quick to judge what is life.
- Ot, Cog philosopher[/ic]
[ic=Excerpt, an Iskite song heard in Anath]If they can make a cat and a bird on a tree,
Then why can't the Ancients build a mate for me?[/ic]



No, the Cogs are not a 'playable' race in the Clockwork Jungle, but they are a key component of it.  They are not just a possible encounter for an adventuring party '" they are omnipresent.  It may be safely estimated that there is at least one Cog for every three animals in the entire Forest, which adds up to a truly immense amount of these creatures.  To the natives of the Forest, they are merely another kind of creature, with predators to be feared and others to be hunted.  They are recognized as different '" and perhaps a bit mysterious '" but no more wonderment is expressed at the sight of a Cog bird than its 'real' counterpart, and no more terror is felt for a Cog speckled cat or assassin spider than their fleshier cousins.
[note=Originality]This is a rewrite '" some material is old, some is new, some was discussed in the recent chat.[/note]
Cogs are, it is widely understood, living things.  Though not organic (notwithstanding some of their parts, which are wooden), they are powered by the same essence '" whether you call it life force, spirit, soul, or 'magic' '" that flows through all other living things.  The greatest of channelers, those capable of consciously drawing and using this force from other entities, have confirmed that it dwells within Cogs as well.  The difference is simply that the Cogs '" unluckiest of all living things, perhaps '" cannot produce this essence themselves.  They feed off it, and even small amounts can sustain them for weeks or months, but once its influence fades they become dormant and appear 'dead' by any reasonable definition of the term.  It is for this reason that channelers themselves must be cautious in the ruins (or anywhere in the Forest): the mere act of channeling will draw awakened Cogs to the channeler, and will rouse dormant Cogs from their slumber.  Often, this is harmless '" the classic example being Cog birds and insects flitting around a channeler's head '" but everyone has heard stories of channelers inadvertently awakening hostile Soldiers or dangerous Cog predators.

Cogs may be alive '" but do they have a 'heart,' so to speak?  Can they feel pain?  Do they have emotions?  This is a topic many natural philosophers have argued over, but the general consensus is that if they do not, it is impossible to know.  Removing a part from an animal Cog elicits the same response as ripping out a piece of a real animal '" it thrashes, struggles, and screams, and though its voice may be a hollow, mechanical mockery of a real animal's voice, it is no less convincing in its stridency.  Social cog animals (such as Cog monkeys) living among their organic cousins have been observed getting upset, showing affection, and even giving their lives to defend the group's (non-Cog) young.  They show no behavioral differences from their organic counterparts whatsoever '" except one.
[note=Descartes]My inspiration for animal Cogs is Rene Descartes, who believed that animals were incapable of real thought or feeling and only acted like they were conscious.  To him, an animal's scream of pain was analogous only to the squeak a screw makes when you tighten or loosen it - simply an automatic, mechanical sound with no conscious source.  It's an abhorrent belief to me, but it makes you wonder how you could distinguish between a machine that really feels pain and one that just pretends to.  How do you tell if a scream is 'real' or programmed?  Is there a difference?[/note]
No Cog ever harms another.  A Cog speckled cat may kill a real monkey, but it will never lay a paw upon a Cog monkey (though the Cog monkey will still flee and warn its organic 'friends,' seemingly not knowing it is in no danger).  Only Soldiers break this rule, and only when they encounter a Cog that is infested, controlled by another entity, or otherwise compromised.  If the civilized races did not exist, no Cog would ever die save by rare accident, for nothing predates upon them save those who wish their parts for the crafts of civilization.

Animal Cogs are naturally stronger, faster, and more resilient than their natural counterparts, but they are no more resilient than their component parts.  All Cogs are made up of varying proportions of wood, glass, stone, 'Cog gold' (brass), and 'Cogsteel' (high-quality steel).  These are not supernatural in terms of strength, but are apparently immune to serious natural corrosion.  A Cog's wood may discolor over time, and its stone parts often grow lichen or moss, but these parts never seem to be structurally compromised by time and weather (the wood never rots, the brass never corrodes away).  These materials retain this property even when removed from the Cog, so even non-metallic Cog parts are valued in many different applications.

Animal Cogs, as mentioned, are replicas of actual animals (though they are obviously recognized as Cogs even from a distance). They are the same size and shape as their "real" counterparts and behave virtually the same way.  An animal Cog that replicates a predatory animal, for instance, will hunt and kill prey (though it will not actually eat it, as Cogs are incapable of consumption).  They are just as social as the animal they replicate, and may live in herds, flocks or packs of other Cog animals of their type.  Just as often, they seek to enter into the societies of 'organic' animals, seemingly unable to tell the difference between Cog and non-Cog.  Whether an animal group actually accepts a Cog into its society is generally dependent on the individual species, but the Cog will try to be included regardless.  

Cog animals attempt to replicate animal sounds, but they tend to sound mechanical and distorted.  It does not take an experienced outdoorsman to tell the difference between Cog sounds and actual animal cries, though there is typically an eerie similarity.

There is no known example of a Cog duplicating a 'sentient' species '" no Iskite, Tahr, Gheen, or Umbril Cogs, nor cogs of Asheaters, Golhai, or any kind of wyrm.  This has been suggested as a way to tell by inference if a creature is sentient or not; most notably, there do not seem to be any Saryet spider Cogs, which has led many to conclude that these tree-dwelling social insects are a 'Primordial' race of their own.
[note=Primordials]'Primordial' is the term used by the civilized races to refer to intelligent species '" like Asheaters and Golhai '" that are nevertheless not considered 'civilized' like they are.  The Primordials themselves do not use this word, and indeed the Primordial races have nothing in common save that the four civilized races have deemed them in some sense uncivilized.  Some, especially Iskites, sometimes put the Tahro in this category, and it becomes a slur instead of a supposedly neutral term of categorization.[/note]
Soldier Cogs are bipedal constructs around eight feet tall. Some variations between individuals have been observed, but they follow the same basic template.  They have long double-jointed limbs (two 'elbows' on each arm, two 'knees' on each leg), with arms that nearly reach to the ground even when standing erect.  The shape of their heads varies, but they always have either two glass 'eyes' with one on top of the other (never side to side like most animals) or three such eyes in a triangular configuration.  They have no orifices, or anything resembling a nose, mouth, or ear.  Their vital clockwork innards are covered by Cogsteel plates (resembling plate armor) engraved with pictures of animals and/or geometric designs, and they carry solid Cogsteel glaives. The blades of these weapons are highly prized but they must first be separated from the rest of the weapon, as only Soldier Cogs can realistically wield a weapon with a ten-foot solid steel haft. They are extremely difficult to destroy, being made of proportionally far more Cogsteel than animal Cogs, and can skillfully annihilate an entire squad of professional warriors singlehandedly.

Soldier Cogs can be dangerous or benign depending on what their orders are.  Some guard a specific location or patrol a certain route, and will only attack trespassers.  Others stand motionless, and a dangerous few seem to stalk through the Forest killing everything in their path.  As a general rule, unless their orders require your death, they are completely harmless '" assuming, of course, you don't provoke them.  Attacking a Soldier Cog, attacking another Cog in its presence, or attempting to take the Soldier's weapon will provoke a violent response.

Soldier Cogs are exceptionally intelligent fighters and are very difficult to fool. In groups, they make use of complex tactics, utilizing feints, flanking attacks, feigned retreats, diversions, ambuscades, and surprise.  They learn from their opponents and never fall for the same stratagem twice.  They do not hesitate to kill but will usually not pursue a fleeing opponent, and will settle for giving a creature a sound beating if killing is not necessary to accomplish its objectives.  It should be noted, however, that a 'sound beating' administered by an eight foot steel warrior is frequently crippling, if not always fatal.  Soldiers can, quite literally, snap a femur like a twig.

Despite their intelligence, Soldier Cogs do not communicate with others. The only sound they make is a shrill mechanical whistle, and this is only done when other Soldier Cogs are around, leading some to conclude that this is the way they communicate with each other. They do not seem to have any rank or hierarchy, and do not display emotions or emote pain as some Cog animals do.  Most assume that whatever created the Cogs quite reasonably saw no point in giving dedicated soldiers the ability to feel pain.

Hauler Cogs are large, blocky constructs with between three and six legs.  They are not copies of any known living thing, though in general they bear a very passing resemblance to large beetles.  They carry objects with different mechanisms - some have a chain winch on their underbelly, while others have flat backs onto which they load cargo. Like Soldiers, they carry out their directives faithfully, and these orders usually involve stacking, moving, or organizing materials. They do not exhibit the same intelligence as Soldier Cogs, but are physically even stronger.

They are usually harmless but can be dangerous in strange ways. For example, if a Hauler's objective is to "bring stone here," it will do so, even if that means tearing down every last stone building in a nearby village. Such encounters are rare but not unheard of. Haulers will strike out in self-defense, so most villagers would rather just move elsewhere than attempt to kill something that could probably smash a bull elephant into paste.  Haulers are certainly no tactical masters like Soldiers '" their combat 'strategy' involves kicking out forcefully with their legs while retreating from the source of their affliction.  Usually this is enough to discourage pursuers.

Hauler Cogs are occasionally seen with several Soldier "escorts" who follow it around and protect it from scavengers or Cog-hunters. They seem to do this regardless of the Hauler's orders, and squads of Soldiers have been seen guarding motionless, inert Haulers as well as those carrying out tasks.

Two other distinct kinds of Cogs are known, but one only occurs in the half-sunken ziggurat of Teven, and the other is evident only in ancient engravings within the bowels of that same complex.

Lantern-bearers are a kind of Cog that dwells within Teven, dormant save for thirty-six days of the year, called 'Lantern Days' by the locals (The above-water portion of the ziggurat is inhabited, mostly by Umbril, and the settlement is part of the Netai Confederation).  The city's giant steps are dotted with large stone fire-bowls.  On Lantern Days, the spider-like Lantern-bearers skitter forth to light these fire-bowls with the flint-sparking mechanisms that make up their 'jaws.'  The residents have learned to keep the fire-bowls well stocked with fuel, for if the Lantern-bearers find them empty, they proceed to use doors, furniture, clothing, or any other flammable belongings of the residents to accomplish their task (they will literally rip the clothes off your back if that's what's closest).  Other than this use of 'local resources' when the fire-bowls are empty, the Cogs ignore the citizens totally.  The citizens take advantage of the ample light by holding ceremonies, festivals, or outdoor meetings during these Lantern Nights.  The Cogs do not tarry to enjoy the festivities - once they have lit their fires, they retreat into their dark lairs and wait, silently and motionlessly, for the next appointed day.

Smith Cogs are hypothetical Cogs known only from a huge engraving on a wall deep in the underwater recesses of Teven.  The wall depicts an immense vaulted room or cavern in which bipedal Cogs are bent over anvils and furnaces, engaging in what appears to be the manufacture of other Cogs.  One figure holds what appears to be a Cog songbird in mid-song, but most are engaged in the production of bipedal Cogs that could either be Soldiers or other Smiths like themselves.  No actual Smith Cog has ever been found.  Some believe that they may be hidden away in the deepest recesses of Teven, at the base of the ziggurat where the passages are one with the dark, crushing depths of the Sea of Netai.  Others believe that other ruins hold these creatures, ruins yet to be discovered within the Forest or completely submerged beneath the waters.  The question that most wonder about is - who built the builders?

I love the cogs.
I use my shadowy Machmen in similar ways, to show depth of history with the display of a construct that was made for unknown purposes.

But yours are so alien and strange.  The Lantern cogs are wondrously incongruous, and the terror of ending up on the wrong side of a soldier cog...frightening.  Another truly wonderful addition.

I have to admit Polycarp,
I've never delved too deep into this setting before.  Time doesn't permit me to fully immerse myself in all the settings that I would like to.  But ever since the Q&A, I've been reading your stuff, and I'm having a wonderful time!  I'm curious, what (if any) historical analogy do the Tahro have?  I've been doing some anthropological research recently for some writing that I am doing, and the Tahro have some interesting familiarities with an Australopithecus subspecies called the Paranthropus.  Similar diet and (from the limited bit of knowledge we have on them), a similar social life in terms of family and living style.

Looking forward to more!

I can't say that the Tahro have much of a specific historical analogy; most settings I've made feature some kind of nomadic race or culture, and they are the result of an attempt to graft that into an environment not usually associated with nomadism (jungle, rather than steppe or tundra).  The idea for rotating between seasonal camps, however, does come from some anthropological study I did in college (specifically, a course on the Levantine Neolithic).  I can't remember the specific culture/group offhand, but a similar pattern of movement between set "hunting camps" was noted there as well.

Actually, there's a fair amount of influence from the Neolithic generally and that class specifically in this setting.  Gheen death rites, for instance - placing the bodies on a platform to let them be stripped by scavengers, and then plastering the skulls - draw from practices discovered or proposed at places like 'Ain Ghazal (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ain_Ghazal) and Çatalhöyük (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%87atalh%C3%B6y%C3%BCk).

I must admit, I've been a little bit off-game; updates have never been very frequent, but I've been having trouble recently formulating new stuff, or at least getting that stuff onto paper/screen.  I have a pretty good idea of how the world works, who lives there, what it's like, but the drive to explain it all has been elusive recently (I'm sure you can all relate to that).  I find it's best in times like this to focus on details rather than the big picture, so I'm continuing the project I started with the Grove of Tranquility by doing more to describe the Black Circle cities.

The basics of the City of Orpiment can be found on the wiki (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=City_of_Orpiment).  This is just an alternate way of exploring something by walking you through it; let's say I'm just experimenting with a perspective I don't normally write in.

[ic=On Justice]Orpimine justice is predicated on the notion that nobody may find fault with laws they do not know.  After all, if you knew the rules of the game, you might win.
- Ruk Etan Iyeera, Gheen merchant and writer[/ic][ic=Famous Last Words]I am justice inerrant; you are iniquity manifest.  A storm of retribution will pour down upon you that will make the ash and fire of the Grandmother herself seem like a passing rain.
- Jengesh, Lord Master of the Flowering Gauntlet, in a public address hours before his assassination[/ic]

You close the flophouse door behind you and step into the dim clamor of the Furrows.  Constrained in its growth by the massive basalt Forest Walls, the City of Orpiment has been forced to grow upwards over hundreds of years, until the streets resembled thin, snaking canyons carved through solid blocks of shops and tenements.  Eventually, the buildings grew together over the streets, and a whole new city was built over the existing one.  The districts below, that touch the city's bedrock, are collectively known as the Furrows.

The light of the Furrows is not too different from that usually available on the forest floor.  It filters between the floorboards of the wooden streets above, or emanates dully from sooty lanterns hung outside prosperous homes or storefronts.  In some places, patterns are cast upon the streets by arabesque latticework set into circular skylights punched into the streets or vaulted ceilings above.  Umbril find it comfortably dim; Gheen, in contrast, are at a severe disadvantage.  If you have a few notes to spend, you may be accompanied by a furrowman, a hired hand carrying a lantern, torch, or tallow lamp.  This is the favored vocation of the city's poor, as beggars and drifters will quickly be caught up by roving squads of Pipers '" the Overseer's enforcers and slavers '" and pressed into service as slaves of the city.  The more you're willing to pay, the better equipped your furrowman will be.  A pittance will gain you a gaunt, shabby figure with a stubby, smoky torch made from oiled rags on a table leg, while a more generous sum will ensure your steps are illuminated by a beaten copper lantern in the hands of a guild furrowman dressed in distinctive livery.

Good furrowmen do not speak unless spoken to, but their silence is little comfort in the Furrows.  To speak with anyone you pass, you will likely have to shout over the noise of Furrow merchants hawking orpiment-copper knives, turquoise jewelry, dried fruit, and stewed refuse, in addition to the constant thuds of tramping feet upon the streets above.  The nose is equally under duress, as burning tallow, rotting foliage, and furnace fumes mingle in the stuffy air of the Furrows.  Peddlers give you no breathing room, crowding about you (if you seem like a foreigner) and pushing goods in your face.  The wise course of action is to ignore them, though if you find them particularly bothersome, most Pipers will accompany you for a time and freely beat anyone who gets too close in exchange for a fair 'donation.'

You see two of these latter figures strutting down the street in the opposite direction, and the cloying merchants give them a wide berth.  Their fan-shaped red headdresses are visible over the crowd, as are the four-foot hollow staves they carry over their shoulders.  These are the 'pipes' for which they are named, stout blowguns that they use to subdue criminals (either with poisoned darts, or by beating them senseless as if the pipe was a quarterstaff).  Pipers are exclusively Iskites and Tahro '" Gheen lack the physical strength needed, and their poor low-light eyesight is a liability in the Furrows.  Some say Umbril are excluded because the Overseer doesn't trust others of his own species; others argue that it is simply because the Umbril are physiologically unable to use a blowgun (they have no lips, and do not exhale through their mouth anyway).  The Pipers have carte blanche to enforce the will of the Overseer, and the will of the Overseer is something only they know '" the city's laws, if there are any, are secret.  In general, anything that substantively disturbs order, business, or the interests of the Overseer is criminal, and carries a punishment ranging between a public beating to summary enslavement.  Nobody is executed in the City of Orpiment, but being sent to the Delving (the massive network of mining tunnels below the city) is just as fatal, though not as fast.  Even the Pipers must be careful, however, as not even they are trusted by the Overseer.  Officials called Inquirers spy on the Pipers and each other constantly.  Pipers who betray or neglect their master's interests vanish, presumably to the Delving, and never return.

As you continue your walk, you espy a yellow-tinted lantern casting its sallow glow on a brick archway.  This indicates a ramp or stairway that leads up to the open-air thoroughfares above, known as the Perch.  You climb a curving stairway made of pumice concrete, and abruptly stride into the light of the noon sun, filtered into a dusky orange glow by the ever-present haze of the Obsidian Plain.  To a human, the darkness of the Furrows may suggest that it is a slum or an otherwise undesirable part of town, but the only difference that actually exists is a demographic one '" Umbril and Tahro, creatures of the forest floor, prefer the furrows, while Gheen and Iskite residents of the city prefer the Perch.  The distinction is not an immutable one, and each year new structures and streets are built atop the existing ones.  Streets, blocks, and gradually whole districts fade into the Furrows as a new part of the Perch is built atop them.  What was the Perch two hundred years ago is now entirely in shadow.

Squat, black, and enormous, the Citadel of the Overseer looms over you.  It has few windows, and those it does have are stories above the highest rooftops.  Chimneys and vents, continually spewing forth black smoke from the furnaces of the Delving, jut out at odd angles from the basalt monolith.  The Delving is only accessible from the lower levels of the citadel, which itself is off-limits to all but the servants of the Overseer and guests there on the lord of the city's personal invitation.  Though the city draws much of its wealth from the toiling of slaves in the Delving, these hapless laborers are never seen, never heard from, and seldom thought of by the free people of the city.  The Delving is abstracted suffering, a productive hell kept far from the minds of the city's population, trotted out in stories and tall tales like a sinister bogeyman but seldom actually treated as a real place where slaves of the city die every day.

Nowhere are these images of suffering further away than the Perch, which is decorated in riotous color by the city's Gheen residents.  Organ grinders roam the streets, spouting thin melodies that hover above the commotion of the market.  The good ones will play if you pay them; most will play until you pay them to stop.  Because of the long-standing policy of the enslaving of vagrants, everyone on the streets before you is going somewhere, doing something.  Even those waiting for someone will be playing an instrument or obviously holding money and surveying goods (to suggest that they are prospective patrons of the various merchants).  As long as the merest veneer of purposeful activity or profitable intent is maintained, the Pipers will walk on by.  If you wish to see idlers, you must go indoors, perhaps into one of the city's many taverns, teahouses, or drug dens.  These are most common in the Perch, but some that cater specifically to the city's Umbril population are found further down.

As you approach the citadel, situated in the city's center, you notice distinctive banners hung from the walls of the structure '" light beige, with a black heptagon in the center.  This is the device of the Inerrant Vane, the city's guild of lodestone merchants.  Only the Overseer has more power within the city walls, and their traditional position around the base of the citadel expresses this in a physical sense.  The lodestone trade is too precious and dignified to take place in the streets; instead, the Lodestone District of the Perch is nearly empty outside, with copper-helmed retainers standing guard and keeping a tight grip on their gilded batons.  Counting houses, meeting dens, and warehouses line the courtyard that encircles the citadel, and one enters only by invitation.  The Lodestone District is its own little city within a city; at night, it is actually sealed off from the rest of the city by iron gates.  Pipers don't go here unless passing through on their way into the citadel, leaving any matters of order to the Vane's armed retainers.

Travel either way about the base of the citadel and you will come to the Minor Gate, the only obvious entrance to the structure (there are rumored to be secret ones as well).  It is named for its small size when compared to the four great gates that pierce the Forest Walls, but it is even more striking.  The tall, pointed gate is solid orpiment-copper set with polished obsidian.  From the outside, it resembles an utterly black stained glass window, depicting a forge hammer with ivy curling around it.  A semicircular stairway descends from the gate, divided at the bottom by four evenly-spaced basalt statues of Asheaters.  Each one holds a single hand forward, silently warning you to come no closer.

[spoiler=Selected Places within the City of Orpiment]
The Aviary
The Aviary is a towering, bell-shaped, tarnished copper cage that rises from the streets of the Perch near the Golden Gate.  It was built hundreds of years ago during the Age of Prophets as a place for public humiliation of petty criminals, but it was soon discovered that enslaving those criminals was a far more productive mode of law enforcement.  For a time, it was a holding pen for slaves awaiting sale, but the trade of slaves was banned some time before the Recentering (since then, slavery has remained a monopoly of the Overseer).  It sat empty for many years, until several Iskites petitioned the Overseer to grant them the use of the structure as a zoo and aviary.  This was granted, and the Aviary was inhabited by organic and Cog birds, lizards, and monkeys until the devastation of the White Plague of 288, which killed virtually all the 'real' animals in the Aviary (in addition to thousands of the city's residents).  The Aviary now houses only Cogs, who are protected from poaching by the Pipers.

Garden of Sanctimony
The City of Orpiment has always had a problem with ideologues.  Its location within the stark Plain has attracted many pilgrims, prophets, and cultists who seek consolation, purification, or inspiration in the elemental chaos and desolation.  A third of the city was destroyed 80 years ago by a fire set by a cult arsonist.  The city's civil society was nearly torn apart a scant few years ago by a street war between the Flowering Gauntlet, a militant Indigo Chapter, and several other societies and cults they accused of being Saffronites.  Enslaving the firebrands that led such groups failed to produce a desirable result, as they were hallowed as martyrs instead of forgotten.  The present Overseer sought to resolve this problem by building the so-called 'Garden of Sanctimony.'

The Garden is a round, stepped pit, descending into the Furrows like a cone-shaped inverse ziggurat.  Those the Pipers deem 'philosophical troublemakers' have iron helmets with bizarre masks locked upon their heads and are then thrown into the pit, where they must struggle to survive amongst their fellow inmates, many of whom are quite disturbed from years in the Garden.  Barred windows to the outside line every step and walkways cross over the top, where onlookers can throw rubbish (or, if more charitable, food) to the pitiful inhabitants.  Though it is called a 'garden,' only a few sad-looking plants spring from between the stones of the pit.  The 'community' is the closest thing the city has to an asylum, but it is designed not to cure or isolate, but rather to aggravate eccentricity into madness and totally discredit the more dangerous cultists and prophets through public humiliation.

The Sleeping Sage
The grandest market of medicines, herbs, and poisons in the City of Orpiment is a domed structure in the counter-clockwise Furrows called the Sleeping Sage.  It was founded by none other than the peerless Umbril herbalist Evin-Nethir, whose mummified corpse is now propped up in the center of the structure's main bazaar.  Ownership of the Sage passed to Thals-Venan, Evin-Nethir's pupil and the writer of the wildly popular Five-Fold Pharmacopoeia (subtitle: A Flower-work concerning the flora, fauna, and fungi of uses both baleful and beneficent).  Thals-Venan wanders the market stalls whenever it is not busy in its private library or garden, and has been known to offer advice and opinions on herbalism (or anything else) to buyers.  On one occasion, Thals-Venan became enraged at a Tahr merchant selling sub-standard soporifics and set his stall on fire, prompting the Pipers to condemn the herbalist to first-order slavery for a year.  Though it suffers from somewhat poor impulse control, Thals-Venan is a highly respected figure in Orpimine society, in part for housing hundreds of people displaced during the internal Gauntlet War at his own expense.

The Chapter House
The faded teal dome of the Chapter House rises half-way out of the Furrows like a brickwork blister.  It was built not long after the construction of the Forest Walls as a granary and swamp pit, but when the pits were moved to deeper recesses of the city in later decades, it became a public theatre, and was later auctioned off to a wealthy Iskite merchant who used it as a warehouse (and rented most of the space to other merchants).  This merchant was devoured by Kaerlings many years later, and the structure was 'claimed' soon after by the Flowering Gauntlet, a militant Indigo Chapter whose members had been expelled from Greythorn for heresy.  They had been invited in by the Overseer, as relations between the city and Greythorn were strained.  Later Overseers came to regret this decision, and attempted to curb the influence of the Gauntlet by clandestinely encouraging rival societies and religious movements.  This policy backfired during the administration of the current Overseer, leading to the 'Gauntlet War,' a prolonged conflict in the streets of the city between the Gauntlet and its enemies.  It was only resolved by the assassination of the Lord Master of the Gauntlet and the intervention of soldiers of the Golden Principality at the behest of the Overseer.  The remnants of the Gauntlet were forced to dissolve and hand their property, including the Chapter House, to the Overseer.  The structure is being renovated as a theater/planetarium by a group of Gheen astronomers and natural philosophers, complete with a (much simpler) copy of the infamous Shuszan's Orrery, but it is widely rumored that the remnants of the Gauntlet still hold meetings in forgotten passages beneath the main hall.

The Dusky Cabochon
The Cabochon is the most notorious gondola in the city (combination inn/tavern/drug dens catering to flyers and foreigners are called 'gondolas,' after that part of a khauta).  Run by a crippled Tahr exile from Koldon's Well named Ulth the Lame and a rogue Iskite (and former male courtesan)  named Engesz Smooth-tail, the Cabochon provides just about every diversion a traveler might be interested in.  The air is heavy with Itheel smoke tinted blue by the Cabochon's cerulean lanterns, and stinger-addicts gorge themselves on saosan fruit in continually-occupied feast halls.  It is joked that a bottle of their strongest spirit could power a khauta from there to the Rookery.  It is considered a slow week when nobody dies, usually from some overdose or accident, but the and the owners have a long-standing agreement with the Pipers wherein the latter do not venture into the Cabochon so long as any 'nuisances' are kept within its walls.  The Cabochon was heavily damaged in a riot during the Gauntlet War, but has since rebuilt and is as prosperous as ever.

The Stew
The city's Umbril population is sustained by massive swamp pits tended by slaves, in which organic waste from the captive forest is mixed and allowed to decay.  The district of the Furrows in which these fetid hollows are located is known as the Stew.  It is an entirely Umbril-inhabited area, for no other creature can stand the ever-present stench of rot and decay.  As fermenting vegetable matter has been known to spontaneously combust on occasion, the pits are continually fed by cooling aqueducts which create a sickly mist that rolls through the streets and is claimed to be able to peel paint off doors.  The Umbril find these smells appetizing rather than revolting, and 'taking the stew-mists' is considered by some Umbril to be a health-promoting leisure activity.  The Stew also doubles as the city's unofficial morgue, and the bodies of people who disappear by the work of assassins or other malefactors often end up in the pits.  It is rumored that somewhere in the pits and aqueduct systems is an empty cistern or other secret space in which escaped slaves maintain a community and hide from the Pipers, but the Pipers themselves dismiss this as pure fantasy.
[/spoiler]

[ic=On the counting houses of White Lotus]The counters of the Grasping Palm
By far the canniest of all,
They'll send you by the longest way
And hope you'll drink away your pay!
- Flyer's song, traditional[/ic]


If trade is the metric by which a civilization's prosperity is judged, the modern civilizations of the Forest are lowly '" but on the ascent.  The Recentering scattered populations, broke regional power structures, and isolated communities from each other in a way they had not known since before the Age of Prophets.  The twin advent of dendronautics and block printing, however, has begun to reverse the losses suffered by civilization.  The birth of the Black Circle route has enriched not only the communities it passes through, but thousands of other distant villages, colonies, and dreys that receive the occasional khauta-borne peddler or merchant caravan traveling outwards from the Obsidian Crown.

In most Forest communities, 'money' is not an issue.  Such habitations seldom have more than a few hundred individuals, and everybody knows everybody else.  The needs of the community are known and the volume of exchange is not so great as to require the introduction of a standardized currency.  These community folk, however, are well aware that foreign and alien merchants are only interested in goods they can carry with them to other settlements, and endeavor to gather or produce at least one good that will attract caravans and fliers to them '" even communities with no uses for foreign goods enjoy the news, literature, and art that merchants bring with them.  For the Iskites, this is typically a product of their farms, alcohol, or metalcraft.  Gheen dreys may trade rare edible or medicinal plants, bark cloth, Saryet silk, or paints and dyes.  Umbril colonies typically trade in medicine, drugs, poison, or other fruits of their herbal and pharmacological knowledge, but also produce tea and edible fungus.  The Tahro only dabble in the creation of trade goods, but often hide caches of hides, cog components, and crafts of bone and horn to trade with merchants who catch them at one of their camps.

Currency is only in significant use in places of dense population; most notably, the cities of the Black Circle, and (to a lesser extent) the Netai.  Much of it comes in the form of commodity money '" that is, established quantities of a valuable good fit for circulation.

In the City of Orpiment, commerce relies on 'citadel tiles,' rectangular slips of refined copper.  Each one is painstakingly inscribed with a rampant Asheater on one side (the Overseer's personal sigil), a forge hammer with ivy curling around it on the other (the city's symbol), and writing attesting to the tile's purity and weight.  The writing wraps around the edges as well, to discourage villains from filing or chipping off small pieces and degrading the weight of the currency.  Merchants will often insist on personally weighing tiles, especially in larger transactions.  Metals like gold are considered too valuable to circulate in the form of currency, and gold is more often seen in the form of jewelry or some other ornament (even if it is only valued by its weight).

As a great deal of Black Circle trade is carried by khautas, the fuel of these vehicles has become a kind of currency in itself.  This comes in two forms '" bricks of pressed and dried peat (or, less commonly, charcoal), and canvas-wrapped casks of highly distilled alcohol.  Both can be used to power various kinds of craft and are accepted by most merchants on the Black Circle or in the cities of the Netai.  Most savvy merchants will 'taste' alcohol to make sure they're not just getting a barrel of water, but drinking such strong stuff is generally a bad idea.  Outside well-travelled khauta routes, this kind of currency is worth significantly less.

Perhaps the most common form of commodity money in use is tea.  Tea is one of the few things that all four of the civilized races find enjoyable and palatable; even the Umbril, whose cuisine disgusts all others, consume it on a regular basis.  Tea leaves are dried (and sometimes ground into a powder) and then compressed into a hard brick that is then wrapped in large, waxy leaves to keep the rain off it.  Tea bricks are usually stamped with their type, grade, place of origin, weight, and so on, and many merchants are capable of knowing the relative value of a tea brick just by glancing at the stamp.  They are dense, high-value items that are perfect for trade, and they ensure that a traveling merchant will not only have tea whenever he wants, but food as well.  Tea bricks are generally edible (if not exactly delicious) when softened with some water, and one can even find some regional recipes that call for the addition of a chip off a tea brick.  Tea bricks are used almost everywhere, but they are especially predominant in the Wash.  The Black Circle city of White Lotus, which borders both the Wash and the Obsidian Plain, is considered the tea-trading center of the world, and its various tea trading guilds keep long ledgers recording the rarity and value of thousands of different grades and types of tea brick.

The spread of block printing has also opened the possibility of paper money.  Paper itself was already in widespread use long before the invention of the printing press.  The advantages of a lightweight substitute for commodities is obvious, especially when you consider that khauta-borne merchants can only carry a very limited amount of cargo with them.  Fears of counterfeiting have prevented any city from printing its own notes, but these may be overblown, as in practice a printing press is not something just anyone can get a hold of.  Merchant guilds have stepped in to fill this gap, avoiding counterfeiting by keeping circulation limited.

Guild notes are notes worth a certain amount of a commodity issued by a specific merchant guild.  They specify that the issuer will pay the bearer the commodity amount as described within a certain time period (this varies from issuer to issuer).  They are not for 'general circulation;' rather, they are issued to merchants and other agents of the guild to be exchanged with other guilds that have currency agreements with each other.  These guilds keep mutual lists of trusted persons who they will pay a note's amount to; if a person is not on their rolls, they are not obligated to pay him no matter how many notes he holds.  Most reputable merchants are on the lists of several different guild groups and can freely exchange notes between each other, while a street peddler would be unable to cash them in.  Still, some who are not on these guild rolls do accept guild notes, assuming that they in turn will be able to trade them to somebody who is.
[note=On the roll]This is the origin of the Circle slang on the roll, meaning that someone can be trusted or depended on (as in 'don't worry about her, she's on the roll').[/note]
Several attempts have been made to combine these various lists into something resembling a universal roll, but the merchant houses of the Black Circle do not trust each other enough to do this.  Most rolls are kept by a handful of institutions; the largest, the 'Star-Gold Roll,' is used by 14 merchant groups, most of whom have an interest in jewelry and metalworking.

Generally, merchants pay a surcharge to have their names kept on a roll; the amount varies from roll to roll.  Some merchant groups have undergone a transition into something resembling proper 'banking;' the Jade Leaf Roll, a group of White Lotus tea traders, presently has very little activity in the tea trade itself.  Instead, they make money off regular fees accrued from merchants interested in being on their roll (partially because their notes pay in tea bricks, which are valid as currency nearly everywhere), and from loans made to flyers and traders in which the group sees the potential for profit.  The Jade Leaf Counting House is one of the largest structures in White Lotus and counts among its owners several prominent members of the Engan, the landowning class that also elects the city's ruler.

Merchant caravans will sometimes extend credit to residents of communities they travel to repeatedly, based off the fact that members of an isolated community who don't know anyone outside the community are unlikely to flee it to avoid paying a debt.  Many merchants maintain good relations with deep Forest communities and will allow them to take needed goods for the promise of future payment (plus interest).  Such transactions usually end satisfactorily for all parties involved, but there have been isolated cases in which a merchant caravan '" which generally travels with parties of well trained, heavily armed guards '" forcibly plunders a community that owes them a substantial debt, or even kidnaps residents to sell into slavery.  This is generally bad policy if one hopes to return to that community to do business in the future.

My god that was a well written description of the city.  The Garden of Sanctimony is particularly fantastic.  I feel like writing up descriptions of small places (inns, squares, etc) for my own cities now, or writing out narratives for them as you've done.

One question just to start: is the Overseer's title hereditary?

Quote from: SteerpikeOne question just to start: is the Overseer's title hereditary?

Well, the Umbril don't have heredity, so that's not possible - even if the Overseer took part in the spore-cloud rituals, there would be no way of knowing which sporeling was its own (if any).  Originally (during the Age of Prophets) the Overseer was appointed by the city's Fruit-eater superiors (that is, diviners), but since the Recentering the Overseer has chosen its own successor.  How it makes this choice is unknown, but "being Umbril" appears to be an essential factor.  Usually the new Overseer is chosen from high officials around the old Overseer, who themselves are not very well known by the public.

This installation of the Bestiary features a few more "mundane" creatures of the Forest, including a kind of livestock, as well as another variety of Aras Tay, intelligent insects, and... evil fire?

Cat, Speckled

Speckled cats found throughout the Forest, preying on a wide variety of Forest creatures.  A speckled cat resembles a leopard, but '" as one might expect from the low gravity of the environment '" they are comparatively lithe, with slender limbs and a longer, more svelt physique.  While they might not be as strong as a similar predatory cat on Earth, they are significantly faster, and can leap amazing distances.  Speckled cats have extremely strong jaw muscles and are able to crush bones in their mouths; these same jaws can also open to an extreme angle, allowing them to swallow prey (or chunks of it) much larger than one would normally assume.

The fur of a speckled cat is black, covered in many irregular-shaped blotches of dark green from which the creature derives its name.  Speckled cat hides carry a good value in fur and hide markets, and are commonly traded by deep Forest caravans.  Their teeth and claws also find wide use as components of jewelry, charms and talismans, handicrafts, utensils, and so on.  Cog speckled cats are well known as a source of good Cogsteel teeth for knives and spear-points.

Speckled cats organize themselves into prides and prefer to hunt in groups, singling out a weak, aged, or otherwise vulnerable individual and attempting to separate him from the rest of the group.  They are especially keen to target lone travelers, as numbers factor first and foremost into their conception of how dangerous a prey animal is.

Speckled cats are iconic creatures of the Forest, occupying a place in the popular imagination that (for instance) wolves did in Earth's pre-modern history '" crafty, ferocious pack hunters that stalk the wilderness.  Like wolves, they are featured in many stories, fables, legends, and so on, often as a 'stock villain.'  Some Iskites, for instance, tell a story very similar to 'the boy who cried wolf' that involves a speckled cat and a herd of saszihs.

Emkulun

During the wet season, the Forest is under a nearly constant deluge.  In some places, the rain never stops at all; at the very least it is a light drizzle, churning into a roaring storm with little warning.  This is the season of the 'ethereal cliffs' of the Greenwash, great curtains of steam that arise from rain falling upon exposed lava, and the sudden mudslides of the Maw that can swallow a caravan whole.  When the heavens pour, fire stands precious little chance unless it is carefully protected.  Lightning may ignite a tree briefly, but these conflagrations do not endure.

When the clouds begin to lighten and the sun begins to reign again, however, the creatures of the Forest have reason to fear.  This is the Yellow Season, the season of wildfires '" and where there are wildfires, there may be the Emkulun.  The word comes from the Tahr root emku, meaning 'fire.'  The dialect it was originally spoken in is unclear, but it probably means 'living fire' or 'creature of fire.'  Other names include Cinder-veil (made popular by a Gheen children's song), Soulfire, and Darkling Flame.

Wildfires are dangerous enough on their own.  Started by lightning as the wet season wanes, they can destroy many thousands of acres of Forest before they burn themselves out or are quenched by a chance rain.  Some burn for entire seasons, becoming geographical features in their own right until the next wet season comes.  Yet for all the trouble they cause, wildfire is recognized as a force of renewal as well, a 'purge' that the weather inflicts upon the Forest that it may be transformed.  Many animals and plants are unique to such burn zones, and young 'ash forests' composed of unique and wondrous flora emerge out of the ruins of the Forest primeval.  Sometimes, however, something happens to these fires '" something that turns them from a neutral force of destruction and rejuvenation to a terrible menace to all living things.

Emkuluns are, physically, fires '" they have no 'anatomy.'  They appear exactly like regular fire, save that the heart of the flame is not orange, yellow, or even white, but a purple so dark it is nearly black.  It has a place in this bestiary because it lives '" Soulfire, heedless of the wind's currents or the land's swell, races in whatever way it wishes.  It is hungry and malicious, and barrels towards creatures and settlements it encounters.  It seems to delight in causing terror, and will play cruel tricks on the hapless creatures it finds '" encircling them and slowly moving in as they cry helplessly, or appearing to die down and then bursting forth from the trees again when all believe the threat has passed.  There is no doubt that Soulfire is animated by some malign force, though some disagree as to whether it is truly evil or whether it simply requires fear and terror to slake its thirst.  Those who survive it express few doubts that it is the former.

The Emkulun is especially feared because so little is known about it.  They seem to form spontaneously from existing wildfires, with no rhyme or reason to their birth.  They plainly exhibit cruelty, but do not in any other way appear to have a mind '" trying to communicate or reason with them is just as effective as trying to do the same with a regular forest fire.  Cinder-veils have been present throughout recorded history, yet only theories have emerged as to their nature and purpose '" some say they are sent by an angry fire god, or that the always fickle Forest itself creates them, while others claim that they are manifestations of evil thoughts or spirits of the restless dead that become trapped in the fire on their way to the afterlife (the latter is the predominant Tahr view).  In the end, they burn themselves out like any wildfire and defy all attempts to stop them prematurely, though some survivors claim intercession on behalf of their gods saved them.  They leave no clues behind, only swirling ash, smoking rubble, and charred bones.

Gaural

The Gaural, also known as the Grinning Demon, is a predator native to the Great Mire that is even more feared than Imauwr's Brood (as the Mire Wyrms of the Great Mire are called).  Gaurals have bodies resembling a crocodile (though they can grow up to 20 feet long), but with a bizarrely oversized wedge-shaped head.  Their enormous mouths seem set in a permanent smile, interrupted only when they open their mouths to reveal multiple rows of serrated teeth.  The Gaural is a lethargic beast that lies in wait with most of its body nestled in the mud.  It saves its energy for sudden strikes, leaping up from the muck to grab, crush, and swallow prey in an instant.  Despite its size, it is ill-suited to combat; it has difficulty keeping track of multiple objects and cannot quickly move its massive head.  It prefers to lurk near deeper ponds and lakes which it can retreat into after suddenly grabbing one member of a herd (or adventuring party).  Gaurals can hold their breath for hours; they have what appear to be gills, but these are vestigial '" when newly born, Gaural young breathe only water, and transition into air-breathers over time.  As young water-breathers, Gaurals feed primarily on fish and lake-bottom detritus, regularly supplemented by kills brought back to them by their mother.

Cog Gaurals exist but are less dangerous than one might assume, as they lack the camouflage of the normal creature and can often be avoided.  If they do catch prey unaware, however, it is always a very short encounter.

Izif

The Izif (the name is derived from the sound of their wings, and is both singular, plural, and an adjective) are a race of hive insects that can be found in most drier areas of the Forest, especially 'high forest' regions and wooded foothills.  Most izif are 'drones,' winged six-legged insects about the size of a large housecat.  They forage for the hive and are not particularly intelligent '" they behave as one might expect any insect to, and resist all attempts at communication.

Their hives are known as 'towers,' though most of the hive itself is underground.  Izif drones mix mud, sticks, and their own saliva to build clusters of tall vertical tubes that descend into the ground; the construction is presumably to keep non-flying creatures of the forest floor out of their hive.  Izif tunnels can accommodate a Gheen, but larger creatures will be in for a tight squeeze (if they can get through at all).  Within dwells the queen, a much larger specimen (about the size of an adult Iskite, though thin enough to squeeze through the hive tubes).  The Queen has wings, but they are not big enough to support her body in flight; she lacks a stinger, but her mandibles are strong and sharp.

Unlike the non-sentient drones, izif Queens are quite intelligent.  They are not physiologically able to speak a language, but can use other means to communicate with a creature.  The life-force of the drones is continually connected to the Queen's own spirit through something that resembles a channeler's link '" in effect, izif Queens are constantly channeling, and manifest many of the powers of practiced channelers themselves.  They especially favor the creation of empathic links, which they use to communicate basic ideas, emotions, and concepts to those they want something from.  The link they have with their drones does not allow them to instantly command them or see through their eyes, but the Queen knows the rough location, health, and crude emotional state (anger, curiosity, etc.) of all her drones at any one time.  As a side effect of this continual channeling, izif towers usually have an unusually large number of cogs in their vicinity.  Cog hunters often seek their quarry around hives, knowing that they will likely not have to wait long.

Individually, izif drones are not very dangerous '" they have no natural weapons save a stinger.  Their venom, while excruciatingly painful, is lethal only to small animals.  In groups, however, they have several tactics they use to deal with aggressive animals.  If a creature is not dissuaded by constant stings, they will swarm it en masse and attempt to cover it with their bodies.  They will cover their target with layer upon layer of vibrating insect bodies, concentrating their body heat to such a degree that the target loses consciousness (or simply dies).  Many drones usually die in the process, but they are heedless of danger and will not hesitate to throw their lives away for a momentary advantage.

Izif are generally nonaggressive, and attack only those who poke around their hives or attack them first.  Their queens, however, are capable of producing a pheromone that makes them go berserk and swarm any animal they find.  This is usually only used when the hive faces a very serious threat.  The giant dragonflies of the Forest prey upon izif drones, and groups of drones will attack them on sight.  This has led the Tahro, who revere dragonflies as messengers of the spirit world, to conclude that izif are evil.  Many among them believes that the izif harass and try to devour souls on their way to the spirit world, and some even say that especially wicked individuals will be reincarnated as drones.  The other civilized races are ambivalent about the creatures.

Izif are important to their environment in another way '" they do not tolerate the merest presence of the Saffron Moss in their territory, and drones will carefully excise every last piece of it they find.  The Forest for acres around a izif tower is virtually guaranteed to be Peril-free, as the drones meticulously search every nook and cranny from the floor to the canopy.  It is unknown why they are so particular about the Peril; in the empathic communications of their Queens, it is referred to by the concept 'the enemy.'  Drones have difficulty killing abominations ('drones of the enemy'), as the moss-animated dead are not susceptible to overheating, and on rare occasions a Queen will reach out to local civilized communities or nearby travelers to assist them in this.  In exchange, they readily offer membranous sacs of nectar, but the civilized races generally do not have a use for this (though supposedly it can be made into a kind of mead).  Queens will attempt to barter with whatever else they may have access to, but they have a very limited understanding of the wants or needs of species other than theirs.

Cog izif exist, but only drones.  They are never found alone, and are always integrated into hives with other "organic" izif.  As Cogs are living creatures themselves - though mechanical - Queens can maintain the same link with them as they do with their other drones, and do not distinguish between the two.  Cog drones have no venom, but are equally effective in the swarming attacks of their fellows.

Mirau (Aras Tay, Lesser)

The Mirau, also known as the 'greenwyrm,' is a well known type of Aras Tay that can be found soaring above the canopy.  Individuals can grow up to a dozen feet long with an equally wide wingspan.  The mirau loosely resembles a great bird, but on even a cursory inspection it becomes clear that it is a very different creature.  What appear to be green feathers are actually waxy leaves that serve an identical purpose.  It has four wings, two larger ones that sprout from its body and two smaller ones extending outwards from its tail.  The head of the creature most closely resembles a hummingbird, with a long, thin snout and tendril-like tongue which it uses to extract the nectar from canopy flowers.

Miraui 'flower' once a year at the beginning of the wet season; they grow a massive white mane of tiny seeds (precisely like a dandelion), and then shed them in a great plume of twirling white seeds that gradually dissipates over acres of Forest.  Many become caught in the canopy or are eaten by animals, but a few reach the murky twilight of the forest floor, where they sprout and grow into a massive flower bud that eventually blooms to reveal a new mirau.  They are the Forest's embodiment of unrestrained fecundity, sowing their seed by the millions wherever they chance to fly.  Because of this association, it is widely believed that their seeds promote fertility and can even cure the barren, and mirau seeds are a very valuable commodity (not because they are rare, but because it is so difficult to gather a substantial amount after they have been scattered to the winds).  The Tahro consider it very good fortune to happen across a mirau blossom during a migration, and sometimes build camps around such sites, continuing to use them long after the mirau has blossomed and departed.

Canopy Wyrms and large predatory birds who make the sky their home are universally carnivores and have no interest in eating a mirau.  Consequently, they have no natural predators.  Notably, wyrms do not give them any attention at all, much unlike their treatment of khautas.  Unlike many other Aras Tay, they are docile and nonaggressive, and '" being very capable fliers '" will simply flee from danger.  They make no sounds of any kind, and like other Aras Tay seem either incapable or unwilling to communicate at all.

Saszih

Saszihs (derived from the LT (s')ass, meaning 'feather') or 'Village Birds' are large, flightless birds native to the Chalklands that some Iskite villages raise for meat, eggs, and feathers.  The domesticated breed is notably different from the wild flocks that still exist in the Chalklands, which are leaner and much less docile.  They stand about four feet at the shoulder, with a neck that can reach up to two feet higher.  Iskite youths sometimes ride them for fun, but they are not seriously used as mounts and cannot support a fully grown Iskite.  Their dull tan feathers are used for insulating hatchery nests and sleeping mats.  In areas where they are raised, their eggs form an important supplement to the Iskite diet of grain and squash.  In the Chalklands, it is believed that wild Saszihs unlucky enough to fall into the ever-present sinkholes are a common feast for the Golhai, who refer to them in their mind-language as 'large-feather-lightlings.'

There were once Cog Saszihs that roamed with the wild population in the Chalklands, but none have been seen in many years as a result of generations of scrap-hunting.  They are the only Cog 'species' believed to be truly extinct.

Spider, Ambuscade

Ambuscade Spiders, also known as Colony-eaters, Lurkers and Neheel's Children, are very large and very dangerous carnivores.  Ambuscade Spiders are lone hunters who hide in the low understory and drop down upon unsuspecting victims.  Their skin is a near-black green that blends in perfectly in the darkness of their preferred habitat, and though they do not spin webs, they do use silk strands to hang motionless from higher branches and lower themselves silently towards the forest floor.  Mature adults can grow to the size of a car, and they inject a powerful nerve toxin through their fangs that renders a victim helpless in convulsions of pain.  They are single-minded, but cunning and patient enough to lie in wait near populated areas and pick off members of the population.  Lurkers are considered extreme menaces by all the civilized races, though they hunt primarily on the forest floor and thus don't come after Gheen very often.

Cog Ambuscade Spiders are considered even more dangerous (though they lack venom and silk, they are far stronger and harder to kill), especially to channelers, whose energies attract them (like all Cogs).  The civilized peoples of the Forest sometimes wonder what kind of sadist would want to replicate such a creature, and the existence of Cog ambuscade spiders calls the sanity and/or benevolence of the ancients into serious question.

Spider, Whistling

The Whistling Spider or Saryet Spider (which comes from their Gheen proper name sa'aryee'eyt, meaning '˜blind fisherman') is a common species of giant tree spider.  Whistlers are about the size of a large dog, and unlike most spiders they are social animals.  They live in enormous web networks in the understory and canopy, which a 'cluster' of 2-4 dozen adult spiders maintain and repair.  They live off flying prey that blunders into their webs, which they share among the cluster.  They usually eat small birds and large insects, though they will happily devour a lone Gheen who glides into their webs.  They are not aggressive by nature, and if a creature larger or more dangerous than them gets caught, they will cut their own webs and let it fall to the forest floor (often to its death), repair the hole, and continue their wait.

Whistling Spiders are totally blind '" they have no eyes at all, and remain of their surroundings through echolocation (clicks, chirps, and whistles, from which they derive their common name) and vibrations they detect in their webs (which, for that reason, they rarely stray from).  It is difficult to determine exactly how intelligent Whistlers are, but they seem to use their noises as a language to communicate with each other and often use complex coordination and tactics within the cluster.  They mark the death of one of their own with a distinctive 'death trill,' after which they solemnly lower him/her to the forest floor on a silken thread.  Such practices have caused some to categorize the Saryets as a Primordial race, though the Gheen flatly deny that they are anything but simple pests.

Gheen make up only a small part of their diet, but the Gheen consider them dangerous adversaries nonetheless and clear them away from their dreys.  They might be exterminated entirely from areas in which Gheen live were it not for their silk, which '" when treated to remove the sticky coating '" makes an extremely tough, resilient, and fashionable fabric used for clothing, nets, and even armor.  Saryets will allow some 'harvesting' from their web if the invaders are powerful, large, or numerous enough to dissuade them from responding, but the best silk comes from the cocoons they use to bundle up their egg sacs '" and the cluster will defend those to the death.

Whistling Spiders have no Cog counterpart.  Some believe this is because it would be too difficult to make a Cog capable of spinning web, while others argue that it is a sign the Saryets are intelligent (for no truly 'intelligent' races have Cog doubles) '" but nobody really knows the minds of the Ancients.

[ic=Excerpt, 'The Trial of the Saffronite']They led her out of the cage and doused her with lamp-oil, which soaked her sorry rags and soiled the ground where she walked.  The crowd jeered, calling out 'see the Abomination, see the traitor,' and they whipped her with thistle branches as she was led to the apex of the ruin.  Her hands were bound with brambles, and she wore jewelry '" necklaces, bracelets, even a crown '" all made of dry thorns.  As she ascended the mount in this mock finery, led onward towards the post by chapter guards in their dun-colored armor, the Speaker called out: 'So the Master perished; so the slave perishes; so must they all perish.'  The crowd answered in a great booming cacophony, from which I could glean no words.

The guards tied her upright to the post, which was festooned with orange-dyed boughs in the garish imitation of a tree.  Her head was bowed too low to see her face, and if there were tears there, I could not see them through the blood and oil that still dripped from her brow.  She made no sound at all as they bound her.  The crowd edged closer and threw their bloodstained thistle-boughs around her feet in a great pile.

Then the guard bearing the torch came forward, and the Speaker held it high.  'In Vao's name,' he called, 'In the Martyr's memory,' and he touched the brand to her.  In seconds she was consumed in a flame so hot that those in the crowd standing closest covered their faces with their hands, and yet their cheers were undiminished as the condemned one writhed and turned to ashes.

- En-Mathil Ivam, Umbril Chronicler[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/arastayborder.jpg)


[/size][/b]

The Aras Tay '" the strange and often violent fey of the Clockwork Jungle '" are known to all the Forest's residents.  They soar over the canopy and stalk through the underbrush, the embodiment of the stark and uncaring heart of the Forest itself.  They are not exactly common, but neither are they particularly unique.  Wherever the Forest grows, there you may see its spirits, enacting its will through the cycles of their unfathomable lives.  But they are not the only fey in the world, nor are they the Forest's lone defenders.  The Forest has its own champions that cause the Elder Wyrms themselves to bow their ancient brows.

The 'greater' Aras Tay are the near-immortal servants of the Forest that dwarf every other kind of life.  Unlike their lesser cousins, they are each unique in form, unduplicated by any creature upon the face of the world.  The lesser Aras Tay may be the ferocity and pitilessness of the Forest, but the greater Aras Tay are its incredible majesty and power, sublime and magnificent in their every move and heedless of the mere mortals that scurry about beneath them.  Many worship them as gods, but few have ever gained their notice, for they are the travelers of the verdant ages for whom a season is a mere heartbeat.

The number of greater Aras Tay appears to be around two dozen, but there are likely some that live far from the 'center' of the Forest, in its deepest reaches where civilized eyes have yet to see.  Some travel widely and are known to many, while others remain obscure in their private domains of Forest.  Nobody can say what drives them to wander, or what compels them to stay.  Only once in history's long and misty memory have they moved together towards a clear goal, when the existence of life itself was threatened by the enemy of life, and the light of civilization was nearly extinguished.

It is unclear what the "purpose" of the greater Aras Tay is, but even asking the question may be folly - to the Forest, there is no purpose beyond life, death, and the eternal struggle between them.  Some who care to guess say that they are facets of the Forest's will, living weapons against the Peril, gods that arose from the soil at the dawn of time, or the rulers of the Forest attended by every living thing.

The 'Keepers of the Trees' have many names, but are often known by brief appellations which have no recorded meaning.  Perhaps they were named in forgotten generations past, or perhaps their names are primal utterances whispered on the pollen-laden wind when the Forest first bloomed.

Vao
'The Martyr,' 'Lord of Brambles'

Prior to the Recentering, Vao was a relatively unknown greater Aras Tay, an obscure figure who loomed over the sparsely populated depths of the Clawed Thicket.  Since the fateful series of events that led to its destruction, Vao has emerged as the posthumous champion of the Forest '" indeed, the world '" to those who know the true role of the Aras Tay in the defeat of the Peril and the Dominion Tree.

Vao was a colossus of twisting woody stems, a great hulk of thorns and brambles that stood above the tallest trees of the Clawed Thicket.  Roughly bipedal in shape, Vao's body is usually described as shaped as if it were bent or hunched (and yet still hundreds of feet tall).  Accounts differ on how many arms Vao actually had; in all likelihood, considering its physical nature, the Lord of Brambles could have as many 'arms' as it wished.  It had no head, though some reported seeing eye-like hollows peering out of its body.

Vao's body was constantly wreathed by birds, who nested within its massive form along with monkeys, tappers, and other creatures of the canopy and understory.  There is even a tale of a Gheen Drey within its body, but that is almost certainly a fantastic tale spun after its destruction.  Supposedly, Vao itself left no footprints upon the Forest despite its massive size and weight.  It is also said that the 'forest bloomed' where it passed, though it should be remembered that this is a common trait ascribed to greater Aras Tay (and even lesser types) that in reality is shared by only a select few of their number.  Vao itself was never described as 'green' or flowering, only an enormous tangle of thorny brown branches.

The flowering of the Dominion Tree immediately ended the Age of the Prophets, turning every Fruit-eating diviner in the Forest into a slave of the Saffron Moss and beginning what was to become known as the Recentering.  Immediately, every Aras Tay from the least to the greatest turned towards the Mosswaste and began the great march: the Forest had turned with a unitary will against its great enemy.  Millions of Aras Tay and Abominations fought on the shores of the Netai beneath a sky darkened by Kuens and Miraui.  Vao was the first to break through the infested hordes and reach the Dominion Tree.  Beneath its branches, Vao fought the Guardian of the Tree, the corrupted Elder Wyrm Aederyl.  Aederyl set Vao alight with a gout of flame, but Vao proved to be the stronger combatant.  Grasping the Mosswyrm's jaws, it ripped his Moss-encrusted head apart.  Now a towering inferno, Vao wrapped itself around the trunk of the Dominion Tree, and the fire consumed them both.  For the civilized races, the terror was just beginning, but this act rendered the Peril senseless and saved them from what may have been their complete destruction.

Now, Vao is the object of worship in a large area around the Sea of Netai.  'Cults of the Forest Martyr' are widespread among the Umbril of the Great Mire and the Flowering Moors, the Iskites of the Scalemount, and the various communities of Netai, the Clawed Thicket, and the Chalicewood.  Many Indigo Chapters of the Netai take their inspiration from Vao '" or even their name, like the Iron Thistle, Sons of Vao, and the Wreath of Thorns.  As Vao articulated no dogma '" or anything at all '" the cults and chapters that claim to follow its 'teachings' often have very little in common with each other.

Emnol
'Vineheart,' 'The Green Traveler'

Though most greater Aras Tay tend to wander over the centuries, none journey as widely or as quickly as Emnol.  It is constantly moving, and in the last century has been seen from the Chokereed to Gearfall.  Some believe it seeks something, others simply assume it wanders for its own enjoyment '" assuming Aras Tay even experience 'enjoyment.'

Emnol is a tremendous mass of vines.  It does not 'move' in a traditional sense '" rather, it continually sprouts and grows new vines in the direction it wishes to travel in, while vines on its other side quickly wither, die, and fall away.  This happens so quickly that it makes the remarkably fast growth of the Forest itself look sluggish; Emnol grows so quickly that it can outrun most creatures of the Forest floor.  Creatures in its path are surprised by a sudden explosion of vines from the trees, each one sprouting into several more and stretching to grasp the trunks ahead.  The Forest is quickly so choked with vines that an observer within can hardly see more than fifty feet '" and then, just as suddenly as it grew, the vines wilt, turn brown, and crumble away, leaving little trace of its passage except a new layer of dead vegetation on the Forest floor.  Despite its great size, it does not 'trample' the environs it passes through, though occasionally a dead or weakened tree gives way under its weight.  It is advisable not to climb onto it, for though its vines are thick, they will soon give way.

Emnol blooms continually, though each flower does lasts a mere minute.  In that time, if a bird or insect does manage to carry Emnol's pollen to another plant, the eventual result is a very distinctive seed with a minute maze pattern seemingly etched into it.  These seeds are highly valued curiosities; when exposed to water, they grow explosively, reaching maturity (and their full size) within seconds.  Emnollan Seeds have even been employed as weapons, or worse '" according to legend, the Gheen adventuress Eylaa Iya tricked a hostile Venom Wyrm into swallowing one (with predictably graphic results).

Emnol has some scattered cults in its name, but its worship is more common among the travelers and adventurers of the world, for whom it is something like the patron spirit of the journey and the protector of those who dare venture beyond the comfort of home.

Poruai
'Creeping One,' 'The Ineffable'

Arguably the most bizarre of the greater Aras Tay, Poruai looks something like an enormous yellow slime mold.  Poruai oozes along the floor of the Maw, flowing between the trees and feeding off dead matter.  Where it has passed, the ground is bare dirt broken only by living plants, for Poruai harms nothing that lives (though it may still be possible to suffocate if one is trapped under it).  To travelers, this is a blessing; to the Umbril, it is a menace, as it consumes all the dead matter the Umbril subsist on in a broad swath.  Fortunately for them, it is only one entity.

What makes Poruai most unique, however, is that it alone among the greater Aras Tay appears to take a passing interest in lesser beings.  Occasionally, a channeling creature will attract its attention; it will approach them and reach out with a pseudopod formed into a rough facsimile of the creature.  If one is prepared to deal with this unnerving sight, Poruai can be asked questions, to which it will respond by molding this pseudopod into different shapes and creatures, though nothing terribly detailed.  Such 'answers' are vague at best; Poruai may be willing to communicate, but its mind is unarguably alien '" for instance, it sees time in terms of natural cycles and seems to have a very different concept of 'past' and 'present' than mortals do.  Still, there are many who believe it is a divine oracle of sorts, and cults in its name can be found among the Ajen and the Gheen of the Red Depths.  Even those who do not see it as a god may put faith in its cryptically imparted knowledge, and some travel great distances to try and gain its attention.

Because of its color, its amorphous shape, and the claim by some that it knows the future, there are many who associate it with the Saffron Moss and believe it to be evil, or perhaps another form of the Peril itself.  The knowledgeable know this cannot be the case; indeed, Poruai destroyed thousands of abominations before the destruction of the Dominion Tree.  Most, however, do not even know of the role the Aras Tay played in the Recentering.  Such knowledge is not widespread beyond the greater Netai region, and is often garbled and misinterpreted in the great distances between the scattered settlements of the world.  Ajen cults of Poruai on the Black Circle have come into conflict with Indigo Chapters before, as the prevailing understanding there among those who have heard of Poruai is that it is '" at the very least '" a malign force in the world.

Maru
'Longstrider,' 'The Night Sun'

The Gheen of the Skyshield have long told their kits of the Inner Light '" an eerie green glow that sometimes emanates from the deep Forest.  They say birds and insects fall silent, and the Cogs themselves prostrate themselves before the Walker of the Skyshield.  When the Light falls upon the boughs, Maru is close at hand, to steal away the bad children and make them into Aras Tay.

Such stories are only idle tales told to children, but Maru is very real.  Maru is a two hundred foot tall bipedal giant.  It would look almost humanlike but for its phenomenal gauntness '" even by the standards of the creatures of the low-gravity Forest, Maru's limbs are incredibly thin for their great length.  It does not even seem plausible that they would support the creature, and yet they do.  Maru has four arms, each a hundred feet long, and an oval-shaped head devoid of any features whatsoever.  Its skin is as black as pitch and as hard as stone, but those who claim to have touched it maintain that it is strangely warm.  Maru's most distinct feature is its broad chest, which looks like a bare ribcage (though the ribs cross each other in the middle in a simple lattice pattern).  From within glows a pale green light that, up close, is brighter than the sun itself.  At night, Maru's light can be seen for miles away despite all the intervening trees and other vegetation.

Maru is only seen at night; nobody as ever glimpsed it during the day (at least, nobody credible; some will say almost anything).  It is unknown whether it hides, or burrows beneath the ground, or simply winks out of existence.  Every night it returns to walk the Skyshield with its long, graceful stride.  Maru is ever silent, and shows no recognition of other creatures (though it avoids stepping on them).  Though many greater Aras Tay are said to make plants thrive and bloom where they pass, Maru is one for whom this is known to be true.  The places it has walked become dense thickets of brightly blooming growth overnight.

Maru has several cults devoted to its worship, but is best known in mystic circles for a prophecy made by a Gheen Fruit-eater shortly before the Recentering.  The diviner said he had foreseen that one day, Maru would come to the walls of the City of Orpiment, and the city's captive forest would explode in riotous growth, break free of its confining walls, and throw the city into ruin.  This prophecy is not taken seriously by many, since Maru has not so much as left the Skyshield in hundreds of years.

Maru, like most greater Aras Tay, was present during the battle against the Peril's Dominion Tree.  One Umbril who observed it later claimed that a great storm of green fire leapt from between its ribs and burned ten thousand abominations to cinders instantly without so much as singing a single Forest leaf.  Like the legend of the City of Orpiment's destruction, this unlikely-sounding tale is not widely believed, though it is probable that it - like most greater Aras Tay - destroyed many of the Peril's servants during the battle.

Elou
'The Everborn,' 'The Harmony of Rainbows'

Some say there is no more beautiful sight in the entire Forest than the wings of Elou.  Avan-Avan, the famous Umbril poet, is said to have written a great masterpiece upon seeing it and then burned it upon completion, lamenting that no mere words could do the greater Aras Tay justice.  There are some who travel thousands of miles to try and glimpse its seasonal transformations, and few regret doing so once they have seen its majestic flight.

Elou usually appears as an enormous caterpillar, light green and streaked with vivid yellows and reds.  It creeps along the Forest floor eating the detritus gathered there.  Unlike most greater Aras Tay, who never change in size even if they do consume matter, Elou grows as it eats until it is hundreds of feet long.  Once it has reached its maximum size, it slows and its skin begins to harden until it is glossy and immobile.  At the dawn of the next day, its hardened carapace splits open, and Elou emerges as a magnificent flying creature.  To call it a 'butterfly' is insufficient '" Elou has twenty-two translucent wings, each dwarfing the largest khauta, and each is like a stained-glass window whose colored panes are constantly changing color and even shape.  Like an immense prism with a million facets, Elou casts the light of the sun upon the Forest canopy in a whirling kaleidoscope miles in diameter.  Having taken flight, Elou revels in the open skies, but this stage does not last long.  It flies for only three days, lays a single egg, and then dies, the colors swiftly fading from its wings.

In about a week, the pearl-colored egg (which itself is 50 feet wide) hatches, reveling Elou the caterpillar, who devours what remains of its previous body and again begins the process of growth towards its unending goal.  All in all, the process from birth to death takes about a single season.  Some say the Rainbow Calendar itself was originally based on Elou's lifespan; this makes some degree of sense, but it may have just as well been devised mathematically in the distant past.

Elou is recognized as a divinity by many throughout the Forest, as it is nearly as widely traveled as Emnol.  Usually, it is revered as the embodiment of the cycle of life and death or as a deity of growth and renewal (or both), as one might expect.  Some believe that if you feed Elou, your dearest wish will be granted the next time it undergoes its metamorphosis.

These are amazing (particularly the Greater Aras Tay).

Some of them remind me of stuff from Princess Mononoke... that kind of weird, whimsical, organic feel.

Can any of them communicate in any intelligible way, or are they too elemental and aloof for that kind of thing?

Quote from: SteerpikeCan any of them communicate in any intelligible way, or are they too elemental and aloof for that kind of thing?

The only one who seems to have any desire or ability to regularly communicate is Poruai, and it's debatable whether its little shape-changing routine can be considered "intelligible."  Some say they've gotten answers from it, others say it was useless or simply made no sense.

In general, the greater Aras Tay are too distant from "mortal reality" to communicate.  If indeed the Aras Tay are a part of the Forest as many suspect, they probably perceive the civilized races as a dog perceives fleas.  A dog scratches when its fleas get too bothersome, but does it actually perceive the fleas as creatures?  Probably not; they only register in the dog's mind in terms of the harm they occasionally cause.  Additionally, we are metaphysical ants to them as well, our lives being just a small part of a cyclic system that they perceive as a whole.

That said, however, there are plenty of stories about people communicating with the greater Aras Tay, even talking with them.  One cannot always distinguish real history from myths and tall tales.  Perhaps some of these stories do have a grain of truth in them, and there are conditions under which the greater Aras Tay will take a genuine interest in a lesser creature and attempt to communicate, aid, or hinder it, but that is a judgment I'm not going to make.  In general I would say that meaningful communication with these behemoths should be at most very, very rare - though it should be remembered that if you take their cults seriously, there are many priests and prophets that claim to know the will of various greater Aras Tay.  Perhaps some are even telling the truth.

So I assume they're nigh unkillable, then?

Well, Vao's death most assuredly happened.  They can be killed, but it would be a herculean task, perhaps even a supernatural one - after all, Vao was killed by the fiery breath of an elder wyrm.  It's possible that even that wouldn't have killed it if Vao had attempted to extinguish itself instead of incinerating the Dominion Tree with its body.

If this was a D&D setting, the feat might be possible for epic level characters; I would probably give them some kind of epic stats if a campaign ever got that far.  It isn't, however, and the kind of system I have in mind for TCJ is significantly lower in power than D&D and more "realistic" in regards to an adventurer's limits.  For the PCs, "nigh unkillable" is probably the most accurate description of their status.

By the way, I've mentioned the Recentering (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Recentering) a lot recently.  I won't repost it here, but the link above is to the wiki article on that subject, which gives you a general idea of the pivotal event of TCJ's history.

In a sense, this setting is a "post-apocalyptic" one, save that in this universe the apocalypse was narrowly averted (or at least mitigated) by the destruction of the Dominion Tree.  Though the civilized races still suffered greatly and had their world turned upside-down, it was not nearly as bad as it could have been.  The story of The Clockwork Jungle is really the ongoing quest by the four races to re-define their culture and identity in the wake of their complete betrayal by their peoples' greatest leaders and brightest minds.  A traumatic event - but ultimately not a crippling blow.

Somewhere out there in the imaginary aether is an "alternate" TCJ, in which the Dominion Tree was never destroyed and what remains of the main races are few and scattered, living in fear of being discovered by abominations and the corrupted diviners that still loyally serve the Peril.  For various reasons, however, that isn't what I want - and in any case, such a dystopia is something better suited to those more (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?64554.post) adept (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?20839.last) at the genre than myself.*

*I know there are more of you out there, I just haven't read much recently, please don't be mad

A timeline in progress, with wiki links!  Just in case these various events are a little too confusing.  Years are reckoned in EVP, "Enti-Ven's Peace," starting in the year Enti-Ven Famar disappeared, ending the years of the First Horde.

[ic=Timeline]c. -400: The Mainspring Analects are written.

c. -280: The Oracle Tree (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Oracle_Tree) is discovered by a rogue Iskite.  The Age of the Prophets begins.

-163: The Forest Walls of the City of Orpiment (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=City_of_Orpiment) are completed.

c. -80: The printing press is developed in the Scalemount.

c. -50: Smiths in the City of Orpiment develop 'orpiment copper (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Metalworking_(Clockwork_Jungle)),' an arsenical bronze that becomes an increasingly common substitute for iron.

-15: The Recentering (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Recentering) begins; the Age of Prophets ends.  The Dominion Tree (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Dominion_Tree) flowers, enslaving the Fruit-eaters and beginning the Diviners' Wrath, but is destroyed by the greater Aras Tay Vao.  The Saffron Moss is crushed, but the civilizations of the Forest have already plunged into anarchy.  Two Umbril, Enti-Ven Famar and Thals-Tadun Nata, kill the Ivet (prince) of their colony and begin a Forest-wide crusade against the diviners and their allies that becomes known as the Orange Strife.  Their host, known as the First Horde, kills many scholars, priests, scribes, philosophers, and other intellectuals as well.

-2: Enti-Ven Famar kills Thals-Tadun Nata for betraying their cause, and in a rage destroys the Umbril settlements of the Netai Coast.  Survivors flee to the isles.  A period of violent anarchy consumes the Netai, known as the Vagrants' War.

0: Enti-Ven Famar vanishes in the Chokereed, marking the decisive end of the First Horde.  Roving bands of bandits and zealots continue to terrorize the civilizations of the Forest; these bands are known collectively as the Second Horde.

8: The Vagrants' War ends with the majority of the Netai isles divided between two Umbril states, the Yellow and Blue Principalities.  These two powers alternate inconclusively between war and peace for nearly 80 years, in what is known as the 'Years of Two Crowns.'
 
c. 40: The Second Horde winds down around this time.  The Recentering ends.

87: Vatav-Nel Oran, Prince of the Blue, conquers the Yellow Principality and founds the Oranid Dynasty (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Oranid_Dynasty) (also known as the Green Principality) that will rule the Sea of Netai for nearly a century.

120: Yik Buri Khaut, a Gheen weaver, invents the hot air balloon, which is subsequently dubbed the "khauta (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Dendronautics)."

126: Yik Buri Khaut becomes the first flyer to be eaten by a canopy wyrm (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Canopy_Wyrm).

171: The Scourge Crisis begins.  A fungal plague known as the Scourge devastates the non-Umbril populations of the Green Principality.  The Prince is blamed and popular Umbril sentiment shifts away from the government, eventually leading to open rebellion.

173: Auk Yrta Su'u (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Auk_Yrta_Su%27u), later known as the World-Queen, is born in Sarmyk.

184: Varan-Etun Oran, Prince of the Green (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Prince_of_the_Green), flees its palace of Tiran Oran.  The Treaty of Var Aban is signed, ending the rule of the Oranid Dynasty and founding the Netai Confederation (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Netai_Confederation).

186: Varan-Etun Oran attempts to reclaim its throne with the aid of Umbril loyalists and alien mercenaries, beginning the Netai Wars (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Netai_Wars).

189: The Battle of Cannibal's Crown ends the First Netai War (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=First_Netai_War).  The pro-Oranid coalition is decisively defeated.  A group of Iskite villages forms the Right Orientation Alliance (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Right_Orientation_Alliance) to check Confederation power and reclaim formerly Iskite land.  In White Lotus, an Ussik (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Ussik) blacksmith invents the Aeolipile (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aeolipile).

191: The Battle of Falling Stars, part of the Second Netai War, marks the first time khautas are used decisively in combat.  The Netai Smokefleet is officially founded later this year.  Auk Yrta Su'u becomes Queen of Sarmyk.

202: In response to raids by the Yrtan Empire (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Yrtan_Empire) into the Wash (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=The_Wash), the settlements of Anevai, S'aszkeh, and Keshs' found a defensive alliance known as the League of the Waterfall (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=League_of_the_Waterfall).

204: The Netai city of Meja falls to Oranid forces during the Fourth Netai War.  The Green Principality is re-founded there, albeit with only a small fraction of its original territory.

207: Auk Yrta Su'u completes her conquest of Feathervale and crowns herself 'World-Queen.'

210: Under the command of League Marshal Jetzeng Tzejas, the League of the Waterfall achieves its first major victory over the forces of the World-Queen at Nerth Sink.  Jetzeng is mortally wounded in the battle.

213: The Fifth Netai War ends.  As a consequence, the Right Orientation Alliance is dissolved, leaving the Netai Confederation without any united opposition in the region.

214: The present date.[/ic]

[ic=Excerpt, 'The Black Clay']Among foreigner, friend, or alien you will find no master of mine,
and never have I beholden myself to our Prince.
It created me, that I freely admit, but that was not my wish,
nor did I consent to return my body to the soil, nor my breath to its web.
Would you reclaim a gift freely given, abandoning your reputation?
Is the merchant who gives away all its goods entitled to their return?
That man is a fool, and our Prince doubly so,
for it was foolish enough to grant me life
and must now accept the consequences.

- Chapter 8, The Ivet's speech to Neven-Il Tebral[/ic]

Many cultures mummify their dead.  The Umbril mummify their living.

Normally, an Umbril that reaches the twilight of its life begins to decay while still alive.  Its outer layer (analogous to an animal's skin) acquires a wet sheen and eventually begins to slough off.  This is not painful to the Umbril, but is rather uncomfortable to watch '" and messy.  The Umbril begins to drift in and out of consciousness, and slows physically until it inevitably loses its mobility and returns to the sessile state it once had as a Sporeling.  The Umbril descends glacially into insensibility as its body returns to the soil.

The Umbril are renowned for their expertise in herbalism and medicine.  It was perhaps inevitable that a people so equipped would attempt to stay their final fates and continue the machinations and conspiracies they are known for as long as artifice can sustain them.

To put it simply, the subject is embalmed while still alive.  The skin is anointed with a mixture of plant oils and herb extracts.  Then, bloodletting begins, and the blood is replaced gradually with an infusion of an embalming fluid, the makeup of which is a jealously guarded secret.  While this goes on, prayers and sacrifices to Thalevin (the Umbril deity of healing, renewal, and fertility) are made continually; this is one of the few aspects of Umbril life in which Thalevin is acknowledged and petitioned.  As one might expect, having its blood replaced with embalming fluid kills the subject.

As the Umbril approaches the moment of death, however, it draws in the veth, the Umbril name for the universal 'breath of life' that flows through all living things.  The manipulation of the Breath is what has been called channeling.  The veth itself is life; no living thing survives without it.  Conversely, things not normally alive can be made to live with it, Cogs being the primary example '" they have no means to breathe and have no life of their own, but can catch the merest current of the veth and spring to life.  It is this force that the subject must struggle to hang on to in the moment of death.  If it fails, the Umbril dies immediately; if it is successful, it brushes off the grasp of the Eternal Mycelium and becomes a telavai, a living mummy.

Mastery of the veth is rather like a martial art.  All beings have access to it in theory, but it takes years of dedication, focus, and training of the mind and body to reach the point where surviving the procedure is even possible.  One cannot simply decide to become a telavai; it is a high and rugged path that few are capable of traversing.  Even revered masters have died on the altar when their focus slipped slightly at the wrong instant.  Because the procedure must be done before serious decay begins, an Umbril that wishes to become a telavai risks years of its remaining lifespan if the transformation fails.
[note=Undeath]This setting lacks 'traditional' undead '" one might argue it has no undead at all.  Abominations are just dead, animated by a living organism growing in them (the Peril).  One could call Telavai undead, but one wonders if that would make Cogs undead as well, since they have a similar status as beings of dead/inorganic matter brought to life by the veth.  The term 'undead' does not exist among the races of the Clockwork Jungle, who tend to perceive everything that partakes in the universal Breath as 'alive,' even Cogs and telavai, though they may be a different kind of life.  There is no alternative force (like 'negative energy') that creates life or any facsimile of it.[/note]
Those telavai who have chosen to discuss their transformation have said it is excruciatingly painful, but the crossover into false life is not the end of the process.  The new telavai must be monitored carefully and treated with desiccants and herbs to prevent rotting.  Eventually, these treatments are stopped, but regular infusions of the embalming mixture must be administered to preserve the body.

A telavai appears as a pale, half-shriveled version of its former self.  It is weaker physically, and its now-brittle body makes nimble movement difficult.  A telavai's existence cannot truly be ended, however, unless its body is destroyed; it may 'bleed' fluid, but the fluid serves only to prevent decay and does not itself sustain life.  A telavai is incapable of making spores, so it can no longer reproduce.  It ceases to need food or water, nor can it ingest these things.  The 'voice' made by its desiccated gills becomes crackling and dry, barely louder than a whisper.  Its mental acuity is undiminished, and most importantly it is no longer subject to a natural death in the foreseeable future.  Theoretically, a telavai's body will eventually decay '" even the secret fluid cannot preserve dead tissue forever '" but there are no confirmed reports of a telavai dying in this way.  Most are assassinated long before then, and the longest-lived ones in recent record have gone up to two hundred years with no more than fairly light degradation.

The dried and chemical-filled body of a telavai is particularly susceptible to fire, and in practice this is the most common method of assassinating one.

The combined difficulty of attaining the necessary mastery of the veth and penetrating the intense secrecy of the preserving formula (one must steal it or bargain it away from another telavai, and they do not part with it lightly) means that very few Umbril undertake this procedure.  It is reserved for the elites of Umbril society: those with the status, resources, drive, and wits to make the ritual a reality.

Telavai were more common during the Age of Prophets.  This is partially because at the dawn of the Recentering, nearly all telavai were also diviners; when they all went mad simultaneously, there was no way for them to pass on the secrets of their transformation.  The fact that some Umbril have undergone the transformation since then, however, indicates that at least a few non-diviner telavai must have survived the Recentering '" or perhaps their secrets fell into the hands of non-telavai in the chaos of that time.

The process is not given the same censure that lichdom (or other voluntary conversion to undeath) is in other fantasy worlds.  The process is inarguably unnatural, but it is not seen as 'evil' or 'unholy' (as indicated by the prayers to Thalevin, who is hardly an evil deity).  To the other races of the Forest, who lack any such means to achieve immortality (at least, any widely-known means), it is often viewed with disgust, horror, unease, or any combination of the above, but the Umbril pay no mind to the squeamishness of aliens.  Telavai have been part of Umbril life since before the Age of Prophets itself, and will continue to be a part of it as long as the ritual and its secrets are remembered.

The Tellavi are fairly amazing.

I really like that the telavi are not Evil with a capital E, or treated as monstrous by all who encounter them.  Its always struck me that if the technology/magic existed to transcend mortality then it would used openly rather than covertly, and fear of the undead simply for being undead (or "undead" in your case) is rather superstitious.  Perhaps lichdom/mummification would be controversial, but liches/mummies would form a part of society.  This has always struck me about various vampire stories, where the vampires lead a secret life - I feel that if vampires were really around then there would be an infrastructure to support them.  Most people eat meat, after all, and subsisting on blood isn't really all that big a deal when you think about it...

Does the veth flowing through a telavi give them any unusual powers??  You mention their susceptability to fire - are they otherwise just as vulnerable to attack as regular Umbril?

Quote from: SteerpikeDoes the veth flowing through a telavi give them any unusual powers??  You mention their susceptability to fire - are they otherwise just as vulnerable to attack as regular Umbril?

Veth[/i] - that's just the Umbril name for it, by the way - is the all-important force of life in this setting; it's comparable to chi, prana, pneuma, and other Earth conceptions of a life-force (all of those basically translate to "air" or "breath").  In the Clockwork Jungle, "magic" is just a way of describing supernatural things that beings can do when they master this force.  Any Umbril who has enough mastery of the universal breath to become a telavai is already a pretty impressive wielder of what we would describe as magic.

Non-Umbril have access to this same force and can achieve somewhat similar feats - true masters of the veth have been occasionally known to go for weeks without food or sleep simply by mental focus and breathing exercises - but the telavai process does not work for them.  It's a little bit like keeping a flower alive in a vase of water after you've cut it: as long as you can continually breathe in the veth (in this clumsy analogy, "water") you can sustain a semblance of life even without organs that would otherwise be critical to body function.  Either non-Umbril don't have bodies that function this way, or they simply have not yet devised a process that would work for their own bodies as the Umbril process does for theirs.  One could argue that the only reasons there aren't Iskite/Gheen/Tahr telavai is because none of these races have the experience with herbalism, toxicology, medicine, and biology that the Umbril do (and also because of their cultural aversion to the idea).  As that Umbril knowledge is beginning to spread with the new advances of printing and flight, however, this may change.

The World-Queen in particular is known to be desperately trying to find a way to grant herself immortality in a similar manner, and has gone to great lengths trying to abduct telavai and force them to divulge their secrets.  She has maimed and killed numerous other Gheen in telavai-inspired experiments, as obviously she would never undergo such a process unless she was sure it would work.  If any non-Umbril discovers an analogous process in the near future, it will probably be her.

That would be an undesirable event for the peoples that resist her dominion - and a potential adventure/campaign hook for PCs who are on good terms with her enemies.

As for vulnerabilities, telavai are fairly fragile, but with the caveat that they can't actually be killed by things like blood loss, shock, and so on.  They're not hard to overpower in a physical sense, but you can't just kill one with a well-placed crossbow bolt or spear thrust.  They have to be meaningfully destroyed, which usually means burning or cutting apart their body.  Since a telavai's bodyguards (any sensible telavai has bodyguards) are unlikely to let you chop their master up, fire is really the only feasible method of assassination if you don't plan on taking on its entire retinue.  Poison, the favorite tool of Umbril assassins, will do nothing to a telavai because they no longer have a functioning metabolism (or rather, the metabolism they do have is driven solely by mental/spiritual will rather than physical circulation).

[ic=At the End of the World]Behold the House of the Gods,
see their columns rising Starwise.
Who are you, stranger?
What have you wrought?
- Archaic Iskite inscription above the gate of the Wayward Tower[/ic]


In the Clockwork Jungle, most natural philosophers and other educated individuals agree that the world is round.  Still, even they admit the world has an edge '" you just can't see it.

Civilization is tied together by the attraction of lodestones.  Without them, long-distance trade and communication through the trackless Forest would be impossible.  Even these faithful children of the Grandmother Mountain, however, have their limits.  It takes a certain size and quality of lodestone to exhibit the pseudomagnetic property that makes lodestone useful.  As one travels away from the Grandmother Mountain, this attractive force wanes, and one must carry larger and/or purer lodestones to cross this threshold of utility.  'The edge' is a conceptual line at which the size and purity requirements are so large that finding such a lodestone '" let alone carrying it (as lodestones are heavier than lead) '" becomes impractical.  The attractive force does not decline uniformly, but exponentially, so weight and purity demands increase sharply as one approaches this edge.
[note=Starwise]The Clockwork Jungle does indeed have 'absolute' direction '" in other words, there is a north and a south.  These directions are known to the denizens of the jungle, who call them 'starwise' and 'earthwise.'  They are rarely used, however, for reasons mentioned '" clear visibility of the sky is needed, and it is seldom easily available or safe to access.  In addition, there are no bright stars in the vicinity of the celestial pole like our own Polaris, so it is more difficult to get an exact bearing without instruments.  Starwise is rarely shown on maps, but the map (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=World_Map_(Clockwork_Jungle)) I've made is oriented such that Starwise is straight up.[/note]
Past this limit, one can only rely on celestial navigation.  This is unreliable, however, as it depends on having clear skies (something uncommon in the jungle) and a direct view of the sky, for which one must either climb up to the canopy or fly over it.  It is impractical to climb a 500 foot tree every time one wishes to get a bearing, and dendronauts face their own problems: flying is always dangerous, and khauta fuel '" distilled alcohol, charcoal, or peat '" is not easily found in the uncivilized wilds beyond the edge of the world.  There is seemingly nothing to be gained out beyond the edge, and there are plenty of unexplored regions and ruins inside the domain of the Grandmother Mountain that are more enticing to would-be explorers.

There is, however, one location of interest outside the Grandmother's influence.  It is known as the Colonnade of the Stars.

If you were to depart from the Rookery (a Gheen city on the Black Circle) and journey through the high forest of the Skyshield, you would eventually find your way to the valley of the Chokereed, the largest known river in the world.  The Chokereed is the most dangerous place in the Forest outside the Mosswaste itself, with thick, bramble-laden swamps infested by ferocious predators and the merciless Black Blood, a group of Tahro who do not welcome outsiders.  Keep traveling outwards from this accursed place and you will come to the banks of the Sea of Serpents, an inland sea that straddles the edge of the known world.  Cross this sea to the opposite bank, far past the useful limit of lodestones, and you will see a great half-submerged ruin.  Ancient galleries descend into the dark water, flanked by rows of weathered stone Cog statues that silently watch over the water that has risen to their necks.  The Wayward Tower rises from the broken remains, a ruin of the ancients that was renovated by an obscure Iskite cult long ago.  The cult is long gone.  Climb the tower and look outwards, deep into the wilds.  If the weather is clear, you will see a mountain range on the horizon '" a mountain range that looks surprisingly large even at that great distance.  This is the Colonnade of the Stars, and it is immense.

The snow-capped peaks of the Colonnade are believed to rise far above even the greatest heights of the Wyrmcrown.  They are taller than the Grandmother Mountain itself.  The range stretches a great distance, fading away over the horizon on either edge.  Some believe it is the true edge of the world, and beyond them is an endless void.  Others say that it is the domain of gods or the spirits of the heavens, and that another universe entirely lies beyond it.  Some dismiss these notions, but even they must admit that the Colonnade is a wall, a wall that not even the Forest itself can pass '" and that there must be something beyond it.

Multiple expeditions have attempted to reach the Colonnade, and with the invention of the khauta the number of hopeful voyagers has only grown.  Most turn back long before even reaching the Sea of Serpents; the way is not easy.  Those that do set forth from the ruins of the Wayward Tower inevitably arrive at one of two fates: running low on fuel or courage, they decide to turn back '" or they are never heard from again.  Some say that powerful forces prevent mere mortals from making the journey, but it is more likely that these explorers were wrecked, eaten, or simply lost.  One party did return after being presumed dead for several months, but they had never reached the mountains and were lost in the Forest all that time, saved only by blind luck.  Even if a group managed to make it to the mountains themselves, crossing them would be a task more daunting than any yet faced by the most intrepid mountaineers of the jungle.

A tantalizing clue comes from a most unlikely source '" the Golhai.  Some who have trespassed into their 'Worlds of Darkness' and lived to tell the tale have asked them about the Chokereed, which is believed to originate from the Colonnade and flows all the way to the Chalklands, where many Golhai lurk.  They project their thoughts at those they wish to 'speak' with, and in their thought-language they refer to the Chokereed as 'the path home.'  They are unable or unwilling to elaborate; the Golhai are not interested in discussing their culture or history with others, and have a very vague understanding of the geography of the 'World of Light.'  They do not seem to be familiar with the Colonnade, and their typical response to a 'lightling' that annoys them with incessant questions is to eat the offender.  Still, the Golhai are known to occasionally move between cave systems by surface rivers, and some have proposed that in the distant past they migrated down the Chokereed into their present domains.  If the Colonnade truly is the river's source, perhaps it is the same 'home' they obliquely reference.  Perhaps a branch of their race lives there still, or perhaps they had reason to abandon it '" or flee from it.  One shudders to think what kind of creature could possibly frighten the Golhai.

Demographics

I've been having some difficulty coming to satisfactory numbers for the population of the Black Circle cities.  I'm aware of estimates for the sizes of cities on medieval Earth, but these are less helpful than one would think.  Firstly, if you count the Netai, most of the Clockwork Jungle's cities are Umbril-dominated or have a significant minority of them.  Umbril circumvent normal calculations for the resources and land needed for city size because they essentially live on garbage.  Secondly, even urban areas are generally close to the Forest, which '" as established already '" has no shortage of edible plants and animals.  I think it might be better to build a population structure from the ground up, starting with the most basic type of populated area.

Settlements

In this setting 'settlement' refers to such an area.  On Earth we would probably call it a village, but here village specifically refers to an Iskite settlement (while drey refers to a Gheen settlement, and colony to an Umbril one).  Settlements are the norm rather than the exception; outside the Black Circle, the Netai, Scalemount, and the Wash, they are virtually all you will find.

First, we will examine the dreys of the Gheen.  Despite their smaller size, the Gheen have quick metabolisms and feasting forms an important part of their religious and social life.  Their food demands are high, and because they do not farm or domesticate they are dependent on the resources of the immediate area.  Keeping a small population is difficult for them; they are the most prolific of the civilized races (generally giving birth to litters of 2-4, and seldom single children) and having children is a sacred obligation in a culture that believes you can achieve immortality by having living descendents.

The most viable strategy for the Gheen, then, is to develop multiple discrete settlements rather than a single large one, the environs of which would quickly be stripped of fruit and insects.  Thus, Gheen civilization tends to take the form of dense clusters of smaller settlements.  Ideally, each drey is only 1 day's journey apart from its closest neighbors to prevent travelers from having to sleep in the open, but in some areas the khauta has allowed them to expand this distance and reap the rewards of decreased competition for an area's resources.

Close settlements also reduce the possibility of inter-drey warfare, as paradoxical as that sounds.  With settlements only a day apart, Gheen families usually span multiple dreys.  A 'clan' is defined as a branch of a family within a single drey.  Because a clan in one drey is more loyal to its kin in neighboring dreys than to the other clans of its own drey, war between dreys is generally a futile proposition.  When dreys are close, every war is a civil war, and nothing horrifies the Gheen more than the prospect of slaying their own kin.

*Second, we approach the villages of the Iskites.  The Iskites are fairly average-sized as the four races go, taller than the Umbril but only slightly heavier.  Their birth rate is similar to that of humans, as is their omnivorous diet.  Their food demand is not exceptional (though an Iskite in the process of regenerating a limb will eat vast quantities of food).  Most importantly, they have no families and are not ideologically attached to the idea of having more children; mating is a privilege, but it is being chosen for mating that is the desirable part, not the production of the child itself (as the parents will never know which child is theirs).

The Iskite strategy is the opposite of the Gheen strategy.  They have no need to form multiple nearby settlements, and this may in fact only produce conflict since the villages have no familial bonds between them.  Their position on the forest floor is inherently more dangerous than that of the Gheen, which favors larger settlements '" big villages can maintain professional forces and have the manpower for defensive building projects.  They achieve these large villages through agriculture, which produces marginally more food than the Forest itself.  It's not a very efficient use of labor, as farming takes a great deal more time than gathering, but it allows a single area to support denser population which yields dividends of greater safety and specialization.  To keep the village from expanding beyond its carrying capacity, Iskite society imposes strict population controls, going so far as to exile those who have children outside the sanction of the community.  The punishment seems severe, especially considering that one extra child is unlikely to throw the community into starvation, but the Iskites see it as the only way to ensure that the policy is taken seriously.

*Third, we consider the colonies of the Umbril.  The Umbril differ from our previous two cases primarily in terms of their food requirements.  Their sustenance is rotting vegetable matter; it is easy to find and manufacture, and even though they eat a substantial amount they never really lack for resources.  The Umbril birthrate is highly variable, and the spore-cloud can yield many sporelings or few depending on how the currents carry it.  They naturally have no family structure; their associations are purely voluntary, and like the Iskites they have no idea whose sporeling is whose.

With no limits imposed by the availability of food, it seems like the Umbril strategy would be very similar to the Iskite one only more so '" group together for safety.  Like the Iskites, the Umbril face significant threats on the forest floor.  The Umbril, however, still derive their food from the forest.  There's no way that farming could yield more vegetable matter ripe for decay than the forest itself '" in fact, given the poor state of agricultural technology, cultivated land probably has less to offer the Umbril by an order of magnitude.  In addition, Umbril society is rife with suspicion, plotting, and power struggles, and lacks the social cohesion and predilection for authoritarianism that allows the Iskites to turn larger populations towards coordinated defensive projects.  Such walls and fortifications would do the Umbril little good anyway, for in order to make such defensive lines work they would have to clear their forest and decimate their own local food supply.

The result is that the Umbril prefer a different strategy altogether.  By keeping the size of their settlements small, they can use camouflage and concealment to keep their colonies safe.  Colonies tend to occur in 'clusters,' but they are spaced further apart than Gheen dreys.  For a variety of reasons, colonies feel that proximity is not conducive to their safety and prosperity.  If one colony is overrun by very powerful enemies, the other colonies would prefer to be hidden away at a safe distance.  Umbril colonies in contact with aliens often compete with each other over issues of trade, so nearby colonies only cause problems.  Umbril elites seldom want the elites of other colonies involved in their business.  Still, colonies remain in loose clusters so that they are able to trade, share news and information, and coordinate in the unlikely event of war.  Sometimes a single Ivet (prince) presides over an entire cluster, but usually the authority of such a leader is only nominal.[/list]
Numbers

Attaching concrete numbers to these general descriptions isn't easy; there are too many differences between these situations and those of early Earth societies.  Still, I can make some estimates that seem reasonable.

Gheen clans tend to be around 40-60 individuals and a single drey usually has between 4 and 6 clans, for a total population range of 160-360.

Iskite villages regularly exceed 400 and average around 500, though some particularly fertile areas can support a larger population.

Umbril colonies vary substantially in size, but rarely exceed 250 individuals.

The Tahro have been absent so far on account of their nomadism.  Of all four races, the Tahro are the only one for whom meat is a central part of their diet.  The Iskites supplement their diet with modest amounts of game or domesticated animal, the Gheen are dedicated vegetarians (they don't believe insects count as 'meat'), and decaying animal matter usually only gets into the Umbril diet by accident.  The hunt is a critical part of Tahr culture; a male Tahr cannot become an adult without singlehandedly making a kill.  By their nature, predators cannot maintain a dense population, and the diet of the Tahro keeps them on the move to avoid exhausting an area's game supply.

Bloods are small family units of 15-30 individuals.  Bloods that exceed this size become increasingly unwieldy and usually end up splitting.  A group of bloods form a tribe; bloods keep to their own camps throughout most of the year, but the tribe convenes in full during the red season.  A tribe is usually composed of about a dozen bloods, and sometimes up to twenty.  With 180-360 individuals, a tribe of a dozen bloods would severely strain the local game resources if it were in one place for more than two weeks.

The Beginnings of Urban Life

Where they exist, larger settlements are almost always Umbril or Iskite in origin.  The Iskites (and their cousins, the Ussik) were the first to develop proto-urban settlements in places like the Scalemount, the Wash, and the Netai.  The size of the Iskite village is limited primarily by the availability of food; factors like good soil, seasonal flooding, and the availability of slaves allowed some villages to grow beyond the size of a "normal" village.  Unusually large villages with populations of a thousand or more can be found in some areas, but they are large villages, not cities.

The Umbril were the next to contribute to urbanization.  Capable of eating the waste left over from Iskite fields, the Umbril are in many ways perfect urbanites, especially when paired with the scaly aliens.  Simultaneously in the Wash and the Netai, some Umbril colonies moved closer to Iskite/Ussik villages, establishing close trade and defense relationships.  In some cases, these communities merged and grew.  In the Netai, this trend slowed during the Age of Prophets because the Grand Authority frowned upon the 'corruption' of Iskite culture by 'chaotic alien influences.'  It was permanently ended by the Recentering.  The First Horde destroyed most of the Netai's coastal settlements; the Umbril fled to the isles, while the Iskites retreated inland or to villages in the Scalemount.  The Netai Umbril did not forgot their experiments with urban living, however, and eventually founded the large and powerful cities of the Netai that exist today.

In the Wash, Ussik-Umbril cooperation had a different history.  The Grand Authority never pulled much weight with the Ussik, and the Recentering was not nearly as destructive to the Wash as it was to the Netai.  Snubbed by their cousins, the Ussik always did get along better with the Umbril.  'Towns' of Ussik and Umbril are now reasonably common in the Wash, a handful of which handily exceed 2,000 individuals.  In the clockwise Wash, it is these towns that presently form the backbone of armed resistance against the World-Queen.  In the Greenwash, one of these towns '" called White Lotus '" eventually became one of the great cities of the Black Circle.

Cities of the Circle

By far the oldest of the 'Jewels of the Obsidian Crown,' White Lotus doubtless influenced the early growth of the City of Orpiment; the Ajen-Umbril who built it had been in contact with White Lotus (and occasionally at war with it) for generations.  The cities of the Black Circle, however, only became 'cities' in the proper sense of the term because of the growth of the Black Circle route.  Before this, the settlements were a standard Ussik-Umbril town (White Lotus), a lonely outpost for mining and lodestone expeditions (City of Orpiment), an isolated religious compound (Greythorn), and a refugee sanctuary (Grove of Tranquility).  The final two cities, the Rookery and Koldon's Well, did not even exist until the growing regional trade inspired local Gheen and Tahr populations (respectively) to move in on the action.
[note=City size]In the Clockwork Jungle, the threshold for a settlement to be called a "city" is about 3,000 residents.  This corresponds somewhat closely with Earth's neolithic age; major population centers of the time like Jericho, Ain Ghazal, and Catalhoyuk have been estimated to have numbered 2-3 thousand residents at any one time (though I've seen a few much larger estimates).  This makes some degree of sense for this setting, as farming technology is at best at the neolithic level.[/note]
Creating estimates for the population of these cities is difficult.  Starting with the smallest is probably the best way to approach the problem.

Koldon's Well has a largely Tahr population that is highly unstable, because it functions as a 'red camp' that explodes into a massive city once a year.  During most of the year, the population is probably no more than 3 to 4 thousand; about a thousand are the Children of the Well, Tahro who have converted to sedentary life in order to permanently maintain the settlement.  The rest are foreigners and aliens '" primarily merchants and flyers '" who are more interested in the city's placement on the Black Circle than its Tahr culture.  When the bloods return each year, the population momentarily reaches 8-10 thousand.  How is this sustained for two weeks?  Trade seems to be the most likely answer, and perhaps procuring this immense amount of supplies is part of the function of the Children of the Well.

*The Rookery is more stable than the Well, but it is the youngest of the Black Circle cities.  Its limestone spires make for an excellent aerial port, but the population is not great.  It is only able to reach city size because it is the single example of Gheen 'agriculture' '" many of the steep slopes of the city have been terraced and planted with fruit trees.  The total population of the city is probably not more than 4,000.

*The Grove of Tranquility has a very mixed population with a variety of food sources '" garden trellises within the city, fish stocks transplanted into the canals, and the Forest outside the city's outer limit.  It is larger than either the Rookery or the Well, but not by much '" the eerie Grove is not a very attractive place for new settlement.  6,000 is probably a good estimate, broken down into 3,500 'greens' (natives descended from refugees), 2,000 'blacks' (merchants, flyers, and tradesmen involved in the Black Circle trade), and 500 'pinks' (cultists of the Society of the Seed).

*Greythorn is a significantly larger city; it is essentially a very large Iskite village held together by religious devotion and supplied by the products of its fertile volcanic soil.  Greythorn probably tops out around 10,000, as large as Koldon's Well during the red season.  It might be larger still if the city was not so dogmatic and repressive; few non-Iskites live there permanently.

*The City of Orpiment lacks the agricultural base of Greythorn '" or any agriculture at all, for that matter '" but it has its own section of the Forest and an Umbril majority (whose demands for food are easily met).  15,000 seems like a reasonable estimate for the city, but about a third of these are slaves of the city.  As a result, the city's free population rarely participates in the production of food, and the city boasts an unparalleled proportion of citizens engaged in urban trades and commerce.

*White Lotus is the largest of the Black Circle cities.  Like Greythorn, it has excellent farming land (created artificially on the surface of the lake), but like the City of Orpiment it has a sizeable Umbril population (about 35%) that lives off of organic waste.  White Lotus probably boasts a population upwards of 20 thousand, perhaps as many as 25,000.[/list]
Cities of the Netai

Besides the Black Circle, only the Netai boasts cities.  Presently, all of them are under the control of the Netai Confederation except for Meja.  All are products of post-Recentering Evne-Umbril civilization, created by the merging of fishing villages for defense during the years prior to the unification of the isles under the Oranid Prince of the Green.  Though non-Umbril minorities are present in all Netai cities, they are not 'joint efforts' like the towns of the Wash, and are nowhere near as cosmopolitan as the Black Circle cities.

Unlike most Umbril, the Evne (or 'Netai') Umbril have more meat in their diet '" they are (rotten) fish-eaters.  As all their cities are coastal, however, this doesn't really put any additional constraints on their population size.  The Netai cities are probably best compared to the City of Orpiment, though none reach that size because they lack that city's slave labor and its great wealth.  Andar, the largest Netai city, is probably best estimated at around 12,000 individuals.  Var Aban, the capital of the Confederation, is not far behind.  In general, most notable Netai cities (e.g. Teven, Var Umber, Vanam Dur, Meja, Valssath) have between 4,000 and 10,000 people '" large by Clockwork Jungle standards, but dwarfed by White Lotus.

I want to say I'm very impressed with what you've been doing with the wiki. One day when I've more time (i.e. probably not for a little while) I plan to read over everything in depth. You've got some really neat ideas. Especially liked the canopy wyrm idea.

Addendum

Vreeg asked me in chat about how densely populated individual villages, dreys, and colonies would be.  It's a good question that I didn't address in the previous post.

Gheen, I imagine, would be very close together.  The Gheen have no real sense of "personal space" and have no expectation of privacy - everybody is always in everybody else's business.  Because they live in the canopy, their settlements are three-dimensional, allowing individual platforms to be not only next to each other but atop and below each other as well.  The Gheen also have no bridges or ropes between their platforms, preferring to leap, so having their buildings close together allows them to travel without making massive jumps that might be impossible for the young or infirm.

Iskites live fairly close together, though nowhere near the Gheen's density.  Most Iskites live in blockhouses reminiscent of a Norse or Iroquois longhouse in which practitioners of a certain trade live and work together.  These buildings (along with granaries, storehouses, stand-alone workshops, and so on) are set close together, usually in a grid pattern, centered around the central hatchery and clock tower.  In most villages, the streets of this grid are made of packed dirt and just barely wide enough for two carts to pass each other.  The village proper is then surrounded by a fortified wall, outside of which is the village's cropland and wooden fences or palisades that divide fields and separate the fields from the Forest.

Umbril realize that dense population areas are difficult to conceal.  Their habitations are mostly underground and spaced far enough apart to camouflage and keep interlopers from realizing there is any colony at all.  The Umbril also value their privacy very highly and prefer to keep their neighbors a comfortable distance away from them.  Umbril colonies are the most widely spaced of all and very hard to recognize as settled areas unless you have a very keen eye.

Tahro may not have permanent settlements, but they do maintain camps, many of which are located in the ruined complexes of the ancients.  Members of the blood stay close together; there are few of them and many dangers in the Forest that could threaten even a Tahr warrior.

Quote from: PhoenixI want to say I'm very impressed with what you've been doing with the wiki. One day when I've more time (i.e. probably not for a little while) I plan to read over everything in depth. You've got some really neat ideas. Especially liked the canopy wyrm idea.

Thanks.  I'm trying to keep the thread and wiki roughly caught up with each other.  Anything specific about the canopy wyrms you liked, or anything you'd like to know about them or see written?  I normally write about whatever comes to mind but I'm very receptive to requests and suggestions as well.

In part, I think it grabbed me because it reminded me of the Canopy Dragon back from when I played Magic years ago; I liked the art for that set.

The idea of monstrous creatures living in the canopies appeals on some visceral level.

To be honest, I've only skimmed the surface, so chances are you've answered any early questions I might post. I'm hard at work on getting Eschaton wiki-ready, but I'll be taking a closer Clockwork look when I wrap that up.

Art

I like interesting landscape scenes, whether photographed or drawn.  I thought I'd post a few here to convey what I visualize the landscape of the Clockwork Jungle as.  I mentioned some of these in the earlier chat on this setting, but why not show some?

The original inspiration for this setting was a picture of Ta Prohm (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ta_Prohm), a temple ruin in Angkor, Cambodia that is one of the few that hasn't been cleared of vegetation.  The result is pictures like this:

[spoiler=Ta Prohm](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/img_6869.jpg)[/spoiler]
Many sites around the world, from Chichen Itza to Angkor Wat, have been cleared to provide people with access.  While this is undoubtedly better for tourism (and probably historians too), I think there's a certain intriguing quality about the overgrown ruin that is lost at the same time.

Of course, some are obvious from the air regardless of whether you clear the forest or not, like some of the Maya ruins of Tikal.

[spoiler=Tikal Skyline](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/Tikal-skyline-above-canopy_lg.jpg)[/spoiler]
The other big pictorial influence was an old picture I remember seeing in one of my parents' travel albums, from Ayutthaya in Thailand.  It's a stone buddha head.  What likely happened is that the statue was toppled by attackers and the ruin was deserted, allowing a tree to grow up around the head.  Now it's a "tree with a face" and a big tourist attraction.

[spoiler=Ayutthaya Buddha Head](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/383704872_0e86a3c154.jpg)[/spoiler]
I imagine there are probably a lot of Cogs like that, who haven't been activated in so long that they're completely encased by trees or even lifted into the air.  Certainly a lucky break for Cog-hunters, but it must be a bit disconcerting to have the face in the tree actually watching you.

The Netai was inspired by Ha Long Bay (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halong_Bay) in Vietnam - a lot of karst islands with a very distinctive look.

[spoiler=Ha Long Bay](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/800px-Ha_Long_Bay_with_boats.jpg)[/spoiler]
Digital art can also be really good for landscapes.  The first one is how I picture some of the Clockwork Jungle's more mountainous regions, which are covered by the Forest all the same.  The second, which is actually my desktop right now, is clearly channeling the galleries of Ta Prohm on the left. (Pictures are by Matt Bradbury and Daniel Kvasznicza, respectively).

[spoiler=Digital Art](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/Jungle.jpg)
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/279Jungle_River.jpg)[/spoiler]
Another big influence on me is the Dinotopia books, which some of you may have read.  They're illustrated (and written) by James Gurney.  If you haven't seen some of Gurney's illustrations you really should check them out.  Unfortunately, most of what you find online are low quality scans, but you get the idea.

[spoiler=James Gurney Samples](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/RuinedBridge.png)
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/lrsSPEC12-101GurneyJames-Chandara.jpg)[/spoiler]

[ic=The August Lady of the Lotus]Nothing worthwhile exists that has not been touched by the hand of civilization.  The Forest gives us formless clay; we are the sculptors.  We craft our own fates.  We breathe life into dreams.

- Awetz Ishulu, The Argent Princess[/ic]



The Greenwash is so named not because it is especially verdant, but because of the greenish tint acquired by minerals leached from the lava flows and hardened volcanic ash that lie below its dreary swamps and steaming ponds.  It is where the vast variegated wetlands and swamp forests of the Wash run up against the raging fires and black wastes of the Obsidian Plain.  It hosts plants that are unknown anywhere else, for no ordinary flora can withstand the acid rain that falls continually from clouds tainted by volcanic ash.  Geysers and fumaroles burst forth from the sodden ground, and occasionally a lava flow strays into this land, causing enormous veils of steam known around the Circle as the 'ethereal cliffs.'

Who could live in this land?  Who would want to?  Yet within the Greenwash lies the great lake the Ussik call Tzan Shalkal (literally, the 'Lake of Crushed Leaves'), and from this lake rises the city of White Lotus '" the Floating City, the Wash-Emerald, the Grasping Palm.  This particular jewel in the Obsidian Crown is critical in its importance; there is no other settlement of any consequence on the Black Circle in the wide, sparsely-populated gap between Koldon's Well and the City of Orpiment.  To its residents, it is the Peerless City, a marvel of things architectural, agricultural, and political, the greatest achievement of the Ussik race and an even greater testament to their fruitful relationship with their Umbril neighbors.  In both population and land area, it is the largest city in the world.
[note=Nomenclature]The proper name for a resident of the White Lotus is shalkalje, literally meaning 'a crushed leaf one,' but more loosely translated as 'tea-person.'  A Circle flyer who makes a remark about 'teamen' is not referring to people who serve hot drinks.[/note]
The city itself only takes up a small part of the Tzan Shalkal, a roughly crescent-shaped body of greenish water that is known colloquially as the 'Tea Bowl.'  The first settlement here was built on a narrow spit of land extending into the lake; the settlement grew outwards into the lake through a process of 'reclamation,' where timbers are used to fence off a small area, which is then alternately filled with mud and mats of reeds and grasses.  It is commonly believed that the site was first settled by Umbril, and that later Ussik immigrants invented the reclamation technique after observing the Umbril making 'swamp pits' to decay their food in a somewhat similar manner.  Now, the original peninsula is only one of several causeways linking the city to the shore of the lake.

The Tzan Shalkal is an anomaly in the region because of its relative depth.  Most lakes in the Greenwash are shallow and poorly defined, and often it is impossible to tell where marshland ends and a lake begins.  Though the Tzan Shalkal is linked with a variety of other, smaller bodies of water, the sheer volume of water within the lake ensures that the acidic rain of the region is very diluted.  For this reason '" and perhaps other, less understood reasons '" the lake can support plant life that finds life difficult elsewhere.

White Lotus is undoubtedly the oldest of the Black Circle cities, making it the oldest known city in existence today.  Though supposedly founded by Nevir-Umbril, it came under Ussik domination early in its history.  Instead of being expelled, however, the native Umbril were kept because of their expertise in marshland construction.  According to legend, the Ussik were forced to rely on their Umbril serfs to repulse an attack by the Ajen prince Elam-Ilsal.  Having successfully defended their home, the Umbril then gave the Ussik an ultimatum '" emancipate us, or face rebellion.  The Ussik grandmasters relented, and the first Lake Compact was created, which recognized the political equality of the two races.

The Lake Compact as it was originally made (indeed, if the above story is true at all) was not the one that exists today.  Though publically the Compact is 'as old as the city,' the Engans (the landowning class of the city) admit privately that the document itself has been edited, lost, found, scrapped, and rewritten so many times that there is likely very little (if any) original content remaining in the modern iteration of the Compact.  Though in all its forms it has upheld the equality of the Ussik and Umbril populations, it has changed to legitimate various political regimes that have dominated the city since its founding.

Until the war against Elam-Ilsal, the city had been ruled in the traditional Iskite method of governance, where a village's grandmasters make decisions in an informal council.  Some time after the creation of the Lake Compact, however, the city adopted an Umbril monarchic system centered around the Ivet (meaning 'prince,' rendered in the Ussik dialect of the LT as Awetz), but imbued with the authority of an Ussik leader.  Princes were always Ussik and hereditary through the female line, though unlike a Gheen monarchy the Awetz could be male or female.  Over time, power shifted to citizens that owned productive garden plots on which the city depended.  The Engans developed from this, and for hundreds of years the Engans and the Awetz were engaged in an intractable political tug-of-war to determine which institution would exercise more power.

During the middle period of the Age of Prophets, an Oracle Fruit was smuggled into the city by one of the Engans, and the first Oracle Tree in the Wash was planted.  Eventually, the Engans became dominated by a cabal of diviners who reduced the Awetz to an ineffective puppet and expanded their control over numerous villages and colonies of the Greenwash.  The city suffered dearly during the Recentering; the diviners took control of the city with a host of abominations and most of the population fled.  When the Dominion Tree was destroyed, the city was retaken by the citizens, only to be plundered and burned by the First Horde four years later.  The royal family was exterminated, the class of Engans was decimated, and the city was a shambles.

Nevertheless, the Floating City was not abandoned, and eventually it began to recover.  The Awetz became an elective monarch chosen by the newly reformed council of Engans.  In EVP 81, an Ussik dyer named Ishulu was made Awetz.  During her astonishing 73-year reign, Ishulu rebuilt every quarter of the city still in ruins, renovated the rest, constructed grand new public buildings, reformed the system of arable land distribution, created the city's first written law code, compelled several nearby settlements to become tributaries of the city, and standardized the tea-brick presses.  She was a sponsor of art and philosophy, building the coastal amphitheater that hosted such luminaries as Kitzat, an Iskite mystic, and Ot, the Cog philosopher.  The city's population more than doubled under her reign, surpassing 15,000 by her death.  She is even credited with personally designing the city's now-iconic banner, the three-lobed black flag charged with a crescent and lotus blossom.  Known even during her lifetime as the 'Argent Princess,' Ishulu is viewed as the savior of the city and the greatest Awetz of the modern era.  Every subsequent Awetz has struggled to live up to her reputation, which is steadily aggrandized as the years pass.

Ishulu did not, however, leave White Lotus a 'city of marble' - The city's foundation cannot support stone structures, and wood is generally used for reclaiming new land.  Nearly all city buildings are made of reed bundles as wide as tree-trunks, bound so tightly as to be waterproof.  They are bent over into arches and combined to form structures both large and small.  The same reeds form intricate lattices that cover windows and woven curtains that hang over doorways.  Such houses are sturdy and waterproof, though they cannot reliably rise beyond a single story.  As a result, the city is a sprawling grid of short, arched houses, as impressively horizontal as the City of Orpiment is vertical.
[note=Reed houses]Reed architecture is inspired by the mudhif (http://images.google.com/images?q=mudhif&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wi) of the Marsh Arabs in southern Iraq.[/note]
The houses of White Lotus are intermixed with rectangular gardens that grow all manner of grains, vegetables, and tubers.  Many houses now stand where gardens used to grow, and new gardens are added at the city's edges.  Ownership of a plot of a certain size automatically grants a resident the title of Engan, which entitles them to certain civic privileges and the ability to vote in the city's landholding assembly.  All votes are not equal, and instead scale in importance with how much land a member actually owns; an Engan with a single small plot is essentially a political non-entity, as the dominant cadre of Engans is generally able to maintain a lock on more than 50% of the productive land and thus keep most of their fellows in a strictly advisory role.  Nevertheless, even small landowners enjoy the same privileges as the rest; they are, for instance, exempt from the forced labor the city uses to continually expand its surface area.

The city has as many canals as streets.  The canals are generally used more for the movement of goods, while people tend to use the streets to visit shops and neighbors, though the Ussik can often be seen swimming in the canals.  Ussik houses are often located by canals, and may have secondary underwater entrances (like a beaver lodge).  One must be mindful not to strike a swimming citizen with an oar while plying the city's waterways.

Construction of a series of trade canals began during the Age of Prophets to link the Tzan Shalkal with smaller communities of the Greenwash.  Like fingers radiating outwards from a hand (thus one of the city's less flattering nicknames, the 'Grasping Palm'), the canals extend to various villages, colonies, and mixed population 'towns' of varying size and importance.  The canals were intended to expand White Lotus hegemony over surrounding communities, but with the birth of the Black Circle trade route, it has also placed the city in the enviable position of being the one point of contact between the Circle and the entirety of the Wash.  All trade between these two regions passes through the city, allowing the Awetz to skim off as much profit as the merchants will bear and restrict trade that competes with the city's own exports.  

Chief among these exports is tea.  In a happy coincidence of fate, the lake known as the 'tea bowl' for its color has become synonymous with the product itself.  The Engans maintain tea plantations on the edge of the city, but this is only a fraction of the tea that passes from the Wash to the Tzan Shalkal.  From there, it travels to the Circle and the rest of the world.  The effective 'official currency' of the city is the tea-brick.  These are carefully inspected and weighed before being impressed with the city's official seal, and form one of the foundations of commodity money on the Black Circle (along with Orpimine copper coins and barrels of highly distilled alcohol).  The tea merchants of the city jealously guard their reputations, and though it is a capital crime to forge the city seal or adulterate seal-stamped tea, these merchants often take matters into their own hands.  The city's legal code give merchant consortia wide latitude to enforce the city's own commerce laws for it, and most such groups of any consequence keep guards '" and assassins '" on retainer.

[spoiler=Notable Locations in White Lotus]The Grand Gyre
Though many of the city's canals empty into the Tzan Shalkal and have moorings for small craft along their length, most of the city's marine traffic enters into the Lady's Way, the city's largest canal.  The Way proceeds straight into the Grand Gyre, a circular canal at the city's heart that serves as both its port and a floating marketplace.  The edges of the Gyre are anchored with regularly spaced basalt piles, each section of which was painstakingly cut from the Obsidian Plain, hauled through the marshes, and assembled in place by Ussik divers.  Upon these piles are elegant statues of various arts, crafts, and sciences personified as Umbril and Ussik figures.  The inner part of the circle is left open for shipping, but near the outer edge the water is crowded so thickly with boats that one can simply hop from one to another.  Narrow lighters push through the peddlers' flatboats, taking goods and passengers to and from the larger ships.  Practically all goods that travel between the Wash and the Black Circle make their way through the waters of the Gyre.

The Alabaster Vault
The circular island at the center of the Grand Gyre is accessible by a single steeply arching bridge, raised high enough that ships can pass beneath.  It used to hold a warehouse and various residences and workshops for the harbor-keepers, but these were cleared away years ago to create a beautiful resting place for the princes of the city, beginning with Ishulu herself (who had only recently died when construction began).  The Mausoleum itself is a multi-faceted building topped by a steep dome.  The building is built from reed wattle and plaster over a wooden frame, but this is not normally visible.  The outside is veiled by trellises filled with flowering vines, while the inside is completely covered from floor to ceiling with hexagonal tiles of polished alabaster.  Within, the bodies of the city's previous rulers (mummified in the traditional Ussik fashion) lie in alabaster sarcophagi decorated with floral patterns and scrollwork of gold and lapis lazuli.  Aside from an artistic triumph, the vault is also a cultic focus for those who revere Ishulu or other recent Awetzes as something more than merely mortal.

The Arcade of the Scholars
The Arcade of the Scholars is a stone amphitheatre built during the later reign of the Argent Princess.  It does not actually stand in the city (which would never support its weight), but rather at the edge of the Tzan Shalkal next to one of the city's entrance causeways.  Awetz Ishulu became increasingly interested in attracting the age's best philosophical minds as she grew older, and sent messengers far afield to bring luminaries to her.  The Arcade in particular was built as a enticement for Ot, the 'cog philosopher.'  Ot had been expelled from Greythorn for heresy, and had recently re-appeared in Koldon's Well after years wandering in the Obsidian Plain.  Ot, incapable of standing on the city's wood-and-mud foundations, logically required such a place to share his insights.  Ot eventually did decide to travel to the city and was given honors by the Awetz, but many other thinkers of various popularity and reputation have spoken and argued in the Arcade over the years.  The Arcade is not as busy as it was in Ishulu's day, but a small village surrounding the edifice still houses itinerant poets, sages, and natural philosophers who jump at the chance to address interested crowds in such an esteemed place.

Wesha
The Wesha (a contraction of Weszej Shalkalel, literally, 'wellspring/fountain of tea') is the city's main tea market, an entire district devoted to the business of the tea-guilds and their precious commodity.  The idea of a trade-guild is a recently-developed one that originated with the tea merchants of White Lotus.  Wishing to preserve the reputations of themselves, their city, and their product from others on the burgeoning Black Circle route, the tea merchants of the city associated into a imetul ('union,' from the same root as metil, 'family').  The Imetul-Shalkalel (a rare Ussik-Umbril compound word) created standards for the composition of tea and the weight of tea bricks and compelled its keepers (full members) from sharing their trade knowledge with anyone else.  The Imetul acquired its own section of the city and built the Wesha, a fenced-off compound with warehouses, smokehouses, meeting halls, residences, tea presses, and a covered market.

As the Imetul gained power and wealth, it became increasingly bold, frequently targeting non-guild merchants, smugglers, and foreign competitors for harassment and assassination.  When Awetz Eshwal attempted to place heavy taxes on them to curb their power, the Imetul organized the bloody 'Bluebriar Riots' and forced the Awetz to relent.  Eshwal was largely spurious for the rest of his reign, with the Imetul exerting all real control in the city.  By the time Jeszawn succeeded Eshwal as Awetz, the Imetul's popular reputation had become tarnished by allegations of corruption and poor management.  One of Jeszawn's first acts was to announce a new tea taxation scheme.  During the resulting orchestrated riot, a fire got started that destroyed a quarter of the city (including the Wesha), and the people blamed the Imetul.  Supported by an overwhelming public outcry, the Awetz forced the Imetul to break up into three different guilds, but declined to re-instate Eshwal's high taxes and generously paid for the rebuilding of the Wesha.  Though greatly diminished in power, the resulting imetuls still ply their trade out of the Wesha and bring great profit to themselves and the city - and they have never forgotten their taste of rulership.

The Grinning Gaural
In the city's inner-counterclockwise corner, two canals meet in a circular intersection.  It is much wider than most, because in the center stands a large, low-rising reed dome.  It has no doors or mooring places, only small wax-paper windows and a central chimney.  This is the Grinning Gaural, and like a beaver lodge, the only entrances are below the surface of the water.  The Gaural is a shout-house (the teaman term for a tavern or tea-house that is centered around gaming) that caters mostly to the Ussik, though anyone who is game for the necessary swim is welcome.  Within, patrons gamble with dice, darts, or casting sticks, or drink tea over games of monkey-stones, sloth and elephant, and prince's gambit.  The Gaural is generally not a dangerous establishment for the casual visitor, but a cheater takes his life into his hands.  Except for the antechambers leading to the entrances, the Gaural is one large room, filled with pipe-smoke and the ferocious din of excited shouting and cursing as fortunes are won and lost.  There is perhaps no better place to learn both the freshest news and the most cutting-edge insults in the entire city.

The Gaural is managed by an Evne-Umbril named Vul-Feth, a master of prince's gambit (Netai rules) who rarely deigns to play visitors unless they are truly gifted at the game.  Regulars at the establishment joke that Vul-Feth will give the Gaural to the one who manages to beat him at the game, but Vul-Feth seems more preoccupied with keeping the clientele well-supplied with drinks than finding a successor.[/spoiler]

PC! you really have a talent for this stuff. I take great pleasure everytime you post in reading up on the CJ. It is a wonderful story that you are painting here and I really hope something come of it for you.

Quote from: NomadicPC! you really have a talent for this stuff. I take great pleasure everytime you post in reading up on the CJ. It is a wonderful story that you are painting here and I really hope something come of it for you.

Thanks.  To be honest, I'm not really sure what will "come of it" - I've always just world-built for fun, rarely using anything I've done for gaming (I haven't gamed in years) or for any other purpose besides my own enjoyment.  For me, the setting is unique mostly because I've never been focused on a single project this long.  Usually I make a map or write a bit of history and then become attracted by another project or idea.

I've thought about doing more in-depth writing, but I don't have much faith in my ability as a storyteller - I'm trained in writing academic papers, not dialog, and I'm far more comfortable in the history book/encyclopedia format than anything else.  Posts on the thread/wiki may be as far as I ever get, but that's what I enjoy doing.

I love writing that sort of stuff. I am fascinated by mythological and historical storytelling. If you need any help with that sort of stuff, let me know.

Hey Polycarp! I'm starting to delve into Clockwork Jungle on the wiki. I hope to start reviewing soon. Do you prefer discussion on the appropriate wiki page, or here on the thread?

The thread, please!  The wiki is great for organizing topics, but I find it's not a very good forum for discussion.

All right, I'll make comments as I read. First, I think the wiki might benefit from the pictures on the forum. Assuming these are public domain or you own the copyright, you can post them there easily (and if not, putting them there is no worse than putting them here, I think).

For the most part, I have not read the thread, and probably will not do more than skim bits and pieces.

Introduction
Lost civilizations rock. Do you have details on who the builders really were? I do love the mystery--and it might be a good revelation for a campaign. Whether to include the answers to mysteries or secrets is something we always struggle with when recording a setting.

The Cogs add a layer of depth to both the setting and the ancient civilization. Obviously, they are a highlight, or even a salient feature. It vaguely reminds me of one of the settings for the Magic: The Gathering CCG.

QuoteThere are other Cogs too; Cog haulers, tremendous lumbering tripods, and even Cog soldiers, gaunt sentinels watching over weed-strangled posts. Save for those that have been 'awakened' through magic, they are at best semi-intelligent, like golems that have lost their master and continue their ancient instructions eternally.

The four civilized races - the Gheen, Iskites, Tahro, and Umbril - use these remnants to fuel their advanced societies.[/quote]Races[/b]
I like the distinction between civilized and not. However, the word "Primordial" (meaning first, or pre-existing) does not seem to mesh with the category it's applied to. If it were applied to the builders of the Cogs, it would make more sense to me. The group in question seem more barbarians, than primordial.

Ah, now I see a link to the Ancients. Perhaps having a link in the intro would help.

Ancients
I think Artificers is the better term, in part because "Ancients" is much more common in fantasy settings. Artificers feels more unique to this setting.

Quotethe city of Teven sits upon a stepped "island" in the Sea of Netai, which is actually the very top of an immense five-sided ziggurat rising up from the sea floor.

The Ancients do not seem to have been fond of self-depiction, and no creature has ever shown up in their artwork that suggests it might be one of them.[/quote]All should be taken with a grain of salt - possibly more.[/quote]Gheen[/b]
Reading about races is not one of my favorites, but I'm amused to see these appear to be weasel-people.

QuoteAdult Gheen are permitted to take a mate.

Well that's considerate of society  x.

A race living in the canopy is cool. If you were to have games, would you think gliding gives them an undo advantage?

My respect on the sheer level of detail put into the race. This appears to be one of your passions.

Iskites
Lizards are cool. Therefore lizardfolk are cool.

Interesting philosophy in the intro. It might make for a fun, and/or challenging RP session.

QuoteLike many creatures of the understory

An Iskite can discern the identity of another Iskite it has met before with a high degree of accuracy even when deaf and blind.[/quote]In Iskite society, there is no age of majority, though an Iskite is physically mature at around age 20.[/quote]An Iskite female who reaches adulthood gains the right to accept the duty of mating.[/quote]Laziness is anathema to the Iskites, and they have a culturally inculcated aversion to idleness.[/quote]
Seems to turn the stereotype of a lizard sunning itself on its side. Maybe that's good. Speaking of which, do are the cold-blooded (maybe you answered it, and I missed it).

Phoenix - thanks for the comments!  I appreciate the interest, and it's always very helpful to see things from another point of view.  As for thread vs. wiki, the thread has some stuff I haven't moved to the wiki, but the wiki is more up to date than the thread material (for instance, a lot of the stuff on page 1 here is no longer correct).

Some of the wording/descriptive issues you point out are very good, and I'll be making some changes for clarity as a result.  I don't think it's really necessary to respond to those here, but I'll try to answer some of the questions you asked.

Humans

You are correct, humans have no role in this setting.  This was entirely an environmental decision - this setting began with the idea of a ruined jungle world, and as I developed that concept I tried to imagine what kind of creatures would be suited for that environment.  Humans simply didn't make that list; I toyed with the idea of including them but quickly decided that it seemed like too much of an unnatural imposition on the world.  They seemed out of place, both thematically and ecologically.  I'm aware of the gameplay challenges that may entail, but if there's one thing I've learned from playing D&D, it's that players have no difficulty playing "monster" characters and weird templates, and in fact often seek them out.  Regardless, however, I'm more interested in the consistency of the world than specific gameplay issues of the setting, and I simply don't think that humans are consistent here.

Originally I considered making the "outside world" - that is, the world beyond the edges of The Forest - something that was actually described (albeit vaguely), before I settled on simply leaving it a mystery.  At that time, I thought about having humans as an outside race, native to the world beyond the Clockwork Jungle, who had only very limited contact with its residents.  Ultimately I decided not to do this, but since at present the outside world is in the hands of the GM, it's certainly a concept that could be used.

Ancients/Artificers

"Artificers" probably would be more unique, and I will probably end up making that the primary title.  I don't want to lose "Ancients," however, because it's important for those who believe that the creators of the Ruins (the Ancients) and the creators of the Cogs (the Artificers) were two different races. (I'm not endorsing that as canon, but it is one of the theories I listed, and I want to make sure the terminology can accommodate that).

Iskites

The understory is the region of a rainforest or jungle that is in the shade of the canopy; basically, everything below the trees (sometimes this is divided into the understory and the forest floor itself).  The Iskites, Umbril, and Tahro are all "creatures of the understory," while the Gheen live in the canopy.  I guess I assumed that term was more common than it actually is.  In general, I tend to use a lot of tropical terms (canopy, understory, dendronautics, emergent layer) that might not be common knowledge.  I could give a links or definitions, but I use the words so widely that it would quickly become repetitive.  Maybe a link or explanation on the front page would be enough.

QuoteEarlier, you mention an almost healing factor. Does this mean they still go deaf/blind as they age like other people?

rendered[/i] deaf and blind," say, when in pitch darkness or with wax in their ears.  An Iskite who is deliberately deafened or blinded will eventually heal, but not if they were born with the defect.  The only physical change in Iskites as they age is the torpor - they become increasingly slow and lethargic until their deaths.

I cringe at the phrase "healing factor" just because it's not Wolverine-like regeneration.  Twice the speed of a human is not lightning fast, and replacing a lost limb takes much more time than healing a broken bone.  An Iskite may take up to a year to grow an arm back, and it will take much longer if the Iskite is malnourished or subjected to further trauma in the regenerating limb.  I can't emphasize it enough - they aren't trolls! :)

Maturity v. majority - I used "majority" for a reason.  An Iskite is mature around the age of 20, but "age of majority" means the point at which a child becomes an adult from a societal and legal standpoint (that is, they are no longer a minor - thus the term "majority").  An Iskite may reach physical maturity, but is not accorded the societal status of adulthood unless they have completed their Flowerwork.  This, and not any set age, marks their majority.

Iskites are rather broad omnivores, but in practice they tend to rely more on grains, squash, and vegetables that they grow.  Most villages add to their diet with hunting, or keep domesticated large, flightless birds called saszihs for meat and eggs.  The Iskite diet is probably the one that we humans would be the most comfortable with; most of what they eat would be agreeable to us, and vice versa.

Iskites are warm-blooded, rather like modern scientists think small dinosaurs probably were.

Gheen

Gliding is certainly a considerable advantage, but I can't say at this point whether or not it is too much of an advantage.  Other races have other things going for them, and gliding is limited by weight - a Gheen can only do it when carrying a fairly minimal load, so the stereotypical adventurer with armor and a pack full of gear/loot would not be able to use that ability without dropping most of their stuff.  Additionally, there are methods for the other races to move in the trees, whether by canopy skiffs or by brachiation (swinging from limb to limb, which I fully intend to make a skill just like jumping or climbing when I get around to mechanics).

It's true, describing races is one of my passions in world-building.  I feel that it's pretty hard to understand and sympathize with a people, especially a substantially non-human people, that isn't fleshed out.  Their likes, dislikes, characteristics, experiences, ideas, relationships, societies, religions, and so on are all important in creating a whole picture that goes beyond a simple characterization or stereotype, and I hope I've managed to build that picture for all four of them.

Hi PC! Thanks for the response. I'm traveling now, so I may not be reviewing as much for two weeks, but don't think I've forgotten about CJ.

Sounds good.  By the way, don't forget to take a badge: (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/images/1/1b/Clockworkbadge.gif) (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Clockwork_Jungle)

(This is a slightly updated one that doesn't look quite as horrible, so you other folks with them can switch yours out for this one if you like.  It also links to the wiki, which is probably better than the thread at this point.)

Polycarp! If you just replace the old image, then everyone who was linking to the hyperlink should autoupdate to the new one.

Quote from: Light DragonPolycarp! If you just replace the old image, then everyone who was linking to the hyperlink should autoupdate to the new one.

I just did that.  There hasn't been a change yet, but maybe the administrator just has to ok it first.

In any case, anyone who still has the badge should still give it a look, because it'd be better at this point for it to link to the wiki instead of the thread (now that the most comprehensive and up to date resource is the wiki).

Hm. Strange. Oh well, I ran into the problem sometimes on Photobucket when I uploaded things and the file didn't really overwrite. It may just be a matter of time.

Quote from: Light DragonIt may just be a matter of time.

Photobucket is very slow about this type of thing. Some times one has to clear one's cookies/cashe to get the update, other times it just takes time...

Photobucket isn't the problem here.  In this case, the .gif was uploaded with the CBG's own upload page, which is why I noted that it will probably have to wait for an administrator to approve it (as the upload page notes).

[ic=A Voice from the Crisis]The softest breath can stir the mightiest machine.
- Kuzzun, Tahr revolutionary[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/cloudborder.jpg)


[/size][/b]

To breathe is to live.  Even the Umbril breathe, albeit through their porous skins instead of their mouths.  The Forest breathes clear, humid air; the Plain breathes ash and sulphur.  Like many cultures of Earth, the peoples of the Clockwork Jungle believe in a 'breath of life,' a unifying and ever-present vital substance that is integral to life itself.  This is nothing unique to this world; the concepts of qi (or ki, or chi), prana, pneuma, and so on all translate into 'breath,' 'air,' or similar concepts.  As with every culture, the races of the Clockwork Jungle have their own interpretations of this force, which grants not only life, but powers we could only describe as 'magic.'

The universal breath is known by many names, all of which have approximately the same translation.  In the Luminous Tongue of the Iskites, it is shola ('wind') or s†"ss (An onomatopoeia of breathing; it is pronounced with a sharply inhaled 's' followed by a longer exhaled one that trails off.  Such an ingressive s is a regular consonant in Iskite languages).  In Gheen dialects it is kheel (Red Gheen), khey (Shield Gheen), jeel (Chalice Gheen), or something similar.  The Umbril have their own word, veth (or vath in the Netai dialect).  To the Tahr, it is undu (or a similar word), which refers specifically to 'continuous air' or circle-breathing.
[note=Naming]Here, this concept will be called by the scholarly Iskite name, shola (pronounced shō'lÉ), for ease of use.  Because of the very low deviation in Iskite dialects, the LT is the single most widely known language, the only reason why I use it instead of the universal breath's other myriad names.[/note]
This concept is not an esoteric one.  It is not ancient lore, or the sole dominion of philosophers or sorcerers.  On the contrary, it is as well known as breathing itself.  It is understood as both physical and metaphorical; shola is both the actual inhalation and exhalation of a living being and the essence of life, energy, and motion.   For the four races, it is an integral part of everyday life.  Shola, in some form or another, forms the basis of ancient and modern theories of medicine, music, metaphysics, and even martial arts.

Magic[/b]

Just as air circulates in and out of bodies and from one being to another, shola moves constantly.  Every living thing makes up but a single drop of a vast river that flows continuously.  For most, this is an unconscious process, but just like breathing itself, one can choose to breathe consciously.  One can decide to master one's own body, and through it, one's own universal breath.
[note=Magic]Those who've read this thread know this is hardly the first post on magic in the CJ that I've made.  It may not be the last, either, but at present it's my favorite conception of how I want things to work.  I realize it's vague on details right now, but a solid foundation in theory is important too![/note]
Mastering shola is much like a martial art: In theory, anyone can do it, but in practice most do not have the dedication, motivation, clarity of purpose, self-control, or simply the time to do so.  Like martial arts, there is some synergy with other activities of life; a skilled martial artist may find that the focus they developed applies to other aspects of their life, or that their increased physical fitness aids them in other pursuits.  The reverse is also true, as skills one learns elsewhere can be applied and honed by a martial art.  The same is true of shola and its mastery.  One who learns focus and dedication in the pursuit of excellence in one's craft also gains insight into the way of the shola, and great masters (whether they are farmers, soldiers, or writers) are believed to have greater literal control of the breath as well as a greater ability than the average person to manipulate shola itself.  For most of these masters, however, this control is unconscious, merely a byproduct of their great skill.

Those who truly seek to master the shola pursue it as its own end, and if they are successful, they can unlock the power that has always dwelled within them as living vessels of the universal breath.  They can gain conscious control of the ebb and flow of shola within them, and may even gain the power to imbue it within others '" or draw it from them.  One who accomplishes this can perform feats no untrained person could ever accomplish.  This, to a native of the Clockwork Jungle, is what is meant by magic.

Paths[/b]

Just like 'breath' itself, there are many words for 'magic' (or more precisely, the art of mastering shola), but all of them essentially translate to 'breathing control.'  For the beginner, this is literal; initiates practice conscious mastery of inhalation and exhalation, usually in conjunction with meditation and trance-like states.  The differing schools of thought on breathing control have been honed through the ages, some compiled and recorded on paper, and some passed down orally from master to pupil.

Aseng, derived from the LT word as†"nge (tranquility), is the path of mastery through 'unlearning.'  Followers of Aseng attempt to contemplate the Breath by emptying their mind and quelling the turbulent spirit until one is conscious of only the Breath.  Prolonged meditation is used to winnow away thoughts, assumptions, urges, and emotions until a state of pure tranquility is reached.  Aseng tends to be a long path, and is most prevalent among the Iskites, who have been known to introduce elements of the school into their hatcheries to begin the understanding of the shola at an early age.

Aveieth, literally 'path of the veil,' is the path of mastery through the use of psychoactive substances, or 'entheogens.'  Followers of the 'Aveimezan's mysteries,' as it is sometimes called, grasp at the higher essence of the shola by expanding their own consciousness.  Different substances, or combinations of many, are used by different practitioners.   Aveieth is considered a very difficult path because not every mind can make sense of divine reality when it is glimpsed directly through the mind's eye, but its supporters say it allows one to more quickly grasp the true nature of the Breath, unshackled as one is by 'normal' perception.  Aveieth was originally an Umbril art, but it is also popular among the Tahro.

Wekor, 'activity,' is a Tahr path to mastery that utilizes physical exertion.  Followers of Wekor, observing that strenuous physical activity requires greater inhalation, seek the shola in pushing the limits of their physical stamina.  Prolonged physical stress is believed to increase one's circulation of the Breath, and this allows a practitioner to directly observe how it flows within the physical world.  Once this 'physical mastery' is achieved, its supporters maintain, 'mental mastery' follows quickly.  Wekor is physically demanding, and followers actively seek to reach a 'breaking point' near exhaustion (or death itself) at which the Breath is most starkly present.  It is a physically demanding path, but one that may be easier for those who have difficulty grasping the more intellectual schools.

Farzun, 'denial,' is the path of mastery through asceticism.  Followers of Farzun believe that the experience of material things impedes understanding of the Breath, and seek to deny themselves the pleasures of the world by fasting, renunciation of luxuries, and even self-flagellation.  The practitioner of Farzun clears their mind and body from distractions and temptations and strips down their self to bare existence in order to closely perceive the shola.  There are many different varieties and traditions of Farzun practiced by multiple cultures and races, though the Gheen tend to spurn this school.  For those with the will power to see it through, it can be a very fast and powerful avenue to mastery.

Seevan, from the Red Gheen seev (wrath) and yvan (joy, delight), is the path of mastery through personal devotion.  The follower of Seevan attempts to overcome unfocused and counterproductive thoughts and urges; in this way, it is similar to Aseng, but it quickly diverges from that.  The Seevan practitioner 'unlearns' these things by channeling a strong emotional link in their past, whether of love, hatred, vengeance, or a duty to others.  Its proponents believe that getting in touch with one's strongest and most elemental feelings accesses one's true nature, where the shola is felt most readily.  It is a highly variable path because every practitioner will have a different source, but those without a very powerful emotional attachment have no hope of learning it.  It is a common path among the Gheen, who developed it, but is sometimes learned by the Tahro and Ussik as well.

Engej, literally 'synthesis' or 'union' in the LT, is not truly a path in itself, but the combination of two or more of the above paths.  It refers to practitioners who seek to combine elements of varying traditions in the hope of finding a more perfect knowledge of the shola.  Some paths are in opposition to each other, but others are considered by some to be complimentary.  There is great disagreement as to whether Engej or a 'pure' way to the Breath is preferable.

Disciplines[/b]

As mentioned, the basis of magic is the physical practice of breath control.  This foundation is known as the 'first discipline,' or 'simple breathing.'  Those who master this foundation are accepted as novices of the art, if not true 'magic-users.'  Even these novices are capable of borderline-supernatural feats, such as the ability to hold one's breath for a very long time, increase one's physical stamina and mental concentration, and even sustain themselves temporarily without such necessities as food, water, or sleep.  Because of its broad applications, the first discipline is relatively widespread among those with the time and will to do it.  In particular, many adventurers (perhaps even most) find it worthwhile to reach this low level of mastery of the shola, regardless of their personal skills or interests.

From here, the path of mastery diverges into a number of different disciplines.  Their practitioners may argue that their own chosen path is superior to the others, but they are each means of accomplishing separate aims.  Some argue that different methods of perceiving the Breath are more suited to certain disciplines than others.

Imbuement
Also called the Path of the Blue Hand, imbuement is the discipline of those who breathe life into others.  Imbuers can greatly speed healing, remove fatigue, heal sickness, and enhance the strength and focus of those they choose to aid.  The Imbuer is highly esteemed and appreciated for his mastery, but is unable to aid himself with his own abilities.

Siphoning
Siphoning, called the Path of the Red Hand, deals with the drawing of life from others.  Siphoners heal and strengthen themselves at the expense of other beings, weakening and exhausting them.  It is said that great masters of the discipline can even steal the breath of others entirely, causing immediate death.  The Siphoner can diminish his enemies and aid himself, but can do nothing for his allies.

Aspection
Aspection is the practice of altering the character of shola, taking advantage of the currents and eddies that make one's mind and body unique.  The Aspectioner can use the universal breath to assume the characteristics of others.  There are tales that a true master of the discipline can even adopt 'Mylsegemmen's Art' and assume the form of others.  An aspectioner has a wide array of subtle (and a rare few unsubtle) powers at his command, but few of them can be used in the heat of the moment, requiring extensive meditation and preparation beforehand.

Binding
Binding involves strengthening the flow of the shola between beings, thus establishing a link between them.  Binders cannot draw life from or give life to another as Siphoners and Imbuers can, but instead are able to expand their awareness into others, seeing through their eyes or exchanging thoughts with them.  Binders have few 'combat' powers at their disposal, but can gain a distinct advantage in knowledge and perception through their mastery of the currents of life.

Breath, Cogs, and the Peril[/b]

To us, Cogs appear as machines, not living things.  In the Clockwork Jungle, however, Cogs are perceived as at least 'pseudo-living' '" just like organic creatures, they subsist off the Breath, though they do not experience it like other living things do.  Instead, they function off a subtle siphoning effect by which they draw traces of the Breath from the currents created by shola practitioners ('magic,' if you will).  The barest trace of the Breath used in this way can sustain a Cog for months.  The disciplines of shola mastery are thus equally effective on Cogs as they are upon organic creatures (though a Cog that is drained of the Breath through siphoning will merely deactivate rather than die, and will re-activate if the Breath is channeled again nearby).
[note=Quotes]Thus, when Kuzzun speaks at the beginning of this article, he intends two meanings.  On one level, he is stating a literal truth '" even the smallest channeling of the Breath can awaken the mightiest of Cogs.  On another level, he is using this as a metaphor to propose that even the meek can challenge the mighty, not an unusual statement for a key leader of the popular revolt that overturned more than a century of autocratic Oranid rule over the Netai.  Neither meaning would escape a native of the Clockwork Jungle.[/note]
The relationship between the Saffron Moss and the shola is murky.  Unlike Cogs, abominations do not seem to have shola within them.  They are impervious to the channeling of even the most powerful masters.  Some theorize that the Saffron Moss controls a 'fell breath,' a counter-force that is analogous to the shola but originating only from the Peril.  Because masters of the Breath cannot perceive this hypothetical force, however, it is impossible to say for certain.  A few have suggested that the powers of divination bestowed by the Peril through the Oracle Tree were expressions of this counter-force, and that its existence explains why the Peril is able to animate Cogs that it grows upon.

Though they have never been confirmed, there are tales of 'Perilous masters,' Saffronites who can use the Breath of the Saffron Moss like masters of the shola channel the Breath of life.  If such power exists, it is uncertain whether it is restricted to the foresight of the Prophets, or whether a Perilous master could reproduce the powers of a shola master as well.  Certainly this power is not something any sane person would seek; the Peril granted its power once before, and the prophets who unwittingly took it ended up slaves to its will.

Two questions for the less obvious of the disciplines:
Aspection - this sounds like shapechanging powers, yes? To what degree is it possible? It sounds like very powerful Aspectioners could take on forms of animals and such, and that weak ones can change their faces slightly, but what lies in between. Could they strengthen their muscles and improve their eyes etc.?
Binding - Do "bound" individuals become gestalt? That is, something more than the sum of their shared senses. Say, if they bind their eyes together do they both get improved vision, can they just see from a different angle, or does one improve while the other declines? (the last one seems to be more of a Siphoning skill)

Quote from: Cataclysmic CrowAspection - this sounds like shapechanging powers, yes? To what degree is it possible? It sounds like very powerful Aspectioners could take on forms of animals and such, and that weak ones can change their faces slightly, but what lies in between. Could they strengthen their muscles and improve their eyes etc.?

shola[/i] (save the Saffron Moss), the character is not limited to animal aspects - one could potentially gain strength from standing in sunlight, like a plant, or make oneself immune to pain, like a Cog.  Like the other disciplines, most powers of Aspection are things that are not obvious to others, shapechanging being the "master-level" exception.

QuoteBinding - Do "bound" individuals become gestalt? That is, something more than the sum of their shared senses. Say, if they bind their eyes together do they both get improved vision, can they just see from a different angle, or does one improve while the other declines? (the last one seems to be more of a Siphoning skill)

general[/i], Binding neither gives penalties (like Siphoning) or direct bonuses (like Imbuement or Aspection), but creates unique magical effects like these.

So now that I'm back in town, I'm starting to read through this again.

Tahro

QuoteTheir living groups are quite small, and they neither cultivate the earth nor forge metals.

choosing to live under the shadow of aliens rather than embrace the power of the Oracle Tree.[/quote]A Tahr must have a significant kill to his or her name, usually of some large game animal or a reasonably dangerous predator (though in times of war, an alien may suffice).[/quote]Tahr mates endure the same "marriage" ceremony year after year.[/quote]They recognize that there are beings much powerful than themselves, but deny that power in the physical world necessarily translates into power in the spiritual one '" a powerful entity may kill you, but it cannot extinguish your spirit.[/quote]
I like this line.


I'll look into the last race soon.

Umbril
Definitely the most original race I've seen in a while. At first I thought they would be similar to D&D's myconids, but they seem much more thought-out. The gills and sounds are a fair surprise--it takes them in a less obvious direction.

Their name seems reminiscent of "umbral," meaning within shadow. Is this intentional?

You've got a lot of details on their family structure. This must really be one of your favorites, I'm guessing?

Getting slimy when you get old. That's...nice.

QuoteThe 'right to live' is something one earns and jealously defends from others, not something one is born with.

Warfare[/b]
You mention before they are stocky and not particularly dexterous. How do they hold up against others in melee? Can they use weapons with enough skill to spar with more agile races?

If their bodies are made of fungus, are they particularly harmed by weapons? Is being stabbed a deadly threat to a fungus?

QuoteThey consider oratory to be superior to music, but do use simple instruments (primarily percussion and wind) to accompany a speech or poem, or during certain religious events. Music is at most a passing hobby for them, and Umbril colonies have no "musicians" as such.

The image of mushroom men jamming in a drum and flute quartet is now stuck in my head.

Nice details on the decomposing pits and mold flavoring.

"Poetry is both precise and vague" seems hard to reconcile, no matter how you describe it from there on out.

I haven't yet read the separate page on Ivetziven. However, my gut reaction is that the umbril worshiping the "Prince of Fungi" is more obvious than most of the rest of the race you've crafted. Almost every other aspect of the culture seems original and surprising. While worshiping a super fungi seems more like something you'd expect from a stock D&D race. But maybe it's important to other aspects of the setting--like I said, I haven't read the other page.

Overall this is probably my favorite of the four civilized races. Not so much from a play standpoint, I doubt it's the race I'd choose to play, but from a design standpoint.

Welcome back!

Tahro

"Alien" is used in this setting as a term that a member of one of the "civilized races" uses to describe those of the other races.  The term is really a perfect one, associations with "little green men" notwithstanding.  I can't use "other demihumans" (like D&D does) or similar phrases for obvious reasons.  If you met any of these creatures in real life, you'd likely call them aliens, and it seems like what they'd call each other.

For comparison, foreigners usually means those from another locale or community, particularly if they're of your same race.  That can be combined to make foreign aliens; this is redundant if you're living in a racially homogeneous village, but if you live in a multi-racial city or town it can be important to distinguish from "local" aliens, who at least share parts of your culture, and aliens who are really, truly "alien" to you.

The Tahro do use weapons, and they use them quite well.  Just because they don't forge their own iron doesn't mean they don't trade for iron weapons with others, or make Cogsteel items from the Cogs they fill.  As for the creatures they are expected to kill to reach adulthood, I'm still working on the beast roster for this setting.  I'll try to remember to edit that when I've got a bigger cast of characters.  As for food, the Tahro are omnivores, more acclimated to meat-eating than "regular monkeys."  Hunting also fulfills cultural and social purposes, so even if a blood could remain sedentary by conserving the local game supply, it would have serious consequences for their traditions.  They have made the hunt central to their existence and they can't scale back without seriously rethinking the way they live (and, as traditionalists, they're not eager to do this).

For marriages, "endure" is probably the best word, because there is no Tahr ceremony of any kind that doesn't involve at least some feats of strength/endurance and marriage is no exception. :)

Umbril

It's true, the Umbril are one of my favorites, mostly because I wasn't limited by normal mammal/reptilian physiology and sex.  Their name does come from umbral, but also from umber (a color of earth and the soil, which the Umbril spend their childhood in).  Apparently "umbril" is also a synonym for "umbrere," which means a sunshade (related to umbrella).  Umbrellas do look a little like mushrooms, I suppose.

The Umbril generally aren't the best melee warriors; they don't have Tahr strength and aren't as quick as the Iskites.  They are, however, stronger and more durable than the Gheen.  To make up for their disadvantages against other races, they use a great deal of poisons and stage ambushes with plenty of missile weapons (the repeating crossbow is their invention).  Being able to blow spore-clouds at people doesn't hurt either.

The Umbril are more animal-like than a simple mushroom.  I think of them as embodying "convergent evolution," in which unrelated species develop similar structures - they aren't even slightly related to animals, but have developed some similar adaptations to adapt to their surroundings.  For instance, the Umbril have a circulatory system (as anything of that size would have to in order to bring nutrients to all parts of the body).  I don't consider them any more or less vulnerable to weapons than members of the other races.  Notably, they can still bleed to death.

Read the article on Ivetziven - "prince" is probably a bad translation in this case, because ivet literally means "base, foundation" (see the wiki article on Ivet).  Ivetziven is literally believed to be the network of mycelia that underlies the world, the underground counterpart to the Forest that inevitably devours all things.  I guess it's a "super-fungi" in some sense, but not just a "godly umbril" - it's a underlying force of the world.

As with the other races, however, the Umbril are individuals, and there are plenty that belong to other cults or worship other gods.  Likewise, the Umbril aren't the only ones who worship the facets of Ivetziven.

Regions
Interesting. So the Forest covers the entire world except the Plain? Is it a planet? Or are you choosing not to reveal this for the sake of mystery?

Have you considered a more detailed map? Most of CJ is so colorful, a beautiful full-color map might be (though difficult) a wonderful addition.

The pics on the forum add a lot.

Unrelated to anything in particular: a slightly larger margin might be good for the nav bar. In FF it edges really close to the text.

I like the In/Out idea. Really creates a centralized feel.

Any special name for the area beyond the known world? Something to evoke its danger/mystery?

You might consider a one-line description of the super regions linked to on this page.

Quote from: PhoenixInteresting. So the Forest covers the entire world except the Plain? Is it a planet? Or are you choosing not to reveal this for the sake of mystery?

Almost[/i] the entire world.  Obviously, bodies of water have no forest on them, but there are also mountainous areas above the treeline which are (by definition) unforested.

QuoteHave you considered a more detailed map? Most of CJ is so colorful, a beautiful full-color map might be (though difficult) a wonderful addition.

Unrelated to anything in particular: a slightly larger margin might be good for the nav bar. In FF it edges really close to the text.[/quote]Any special name for the area beyond the known world? Something to evoke its danger/mystery?[/quote]Any suggestions? :)

[ic=Akhele Yauree is Cast Out]Go on, reign as Queen of the Wastelands, you slavering bloodless bitch!  Sleep with the Golhai and trouble us no more!
- The Queen of Yeelya mocking Khee Akhele Yauree (later Queen of the Rookery)[/ic]


[/b][/size]

'Drey' calls a certain image to mind, whether one is Gheen or alien '" that of a treetop village, a colorful and seemingly chaotic jumble of platforms, huts, halls, and perches nestled in a sun-dappled canopy high above the Forest floor.  Indeed, this is the usual form a drey takes, regardless of where one travels in the Clockwork Jungle.  Where the colossal trees of the high forest do not grow, however, there can be no drey '" except, of course, for the Rookery, where rock pinnacles stand in for the tall trees and khautas glide like lazy dragonflies among the dwellings and rock shelters.

The 'threefold mountain' upon which the Rookery lies has several competing myths as to its origins.  According to some, it was once a single mountain with a cavernous subterranean hall at its center.  Like most of the caverns of the Chalklands, it belonged to the Golhai, but their incessant beating of their drums caused the cavern to collapse.  Most of the hollow mountain's slopes caved in, save three massive shards of craggy limestone that now appear as the three great spires of the Rookery.  Other myths assert that the spires were formed purposefully by various gods or Elder Wyrms, possibly as an omen to indicate to the city's eventual founders that this was a fortuitous place to settle.

The spires are generally quite vertical save at the base, where they broaden and intersect, appearing to form a single outcropping that splits into three pinnacles.  Most of the city itself is nestled in the steep-sided defile between the spires, which rises about 300 feet from the ground at the mountain's base.  The dwellings are carved out of the rock, though many have wooden facades or porches that lead into the actual rock dwelling that make them look like buildings that are halfway sunken into the ground.  Narrow hewn paths wind their way between buildings and entrances, becoming steeper as they ascend the bases of the spires until they must be replaced by rope ladders, spiral stairs, and treadwheel-powered lifts.  The sheer sides of the spires above are riddled with houses, caverns, and open perches just like the great trees of a Gheen drey.  The aforementioned means of ascent, as well as precarious-looking rope bridges that string the spires together, are a concession to aliens (as the Gheen normally do not link the platforms of their tree villages together, preferring to jump and glide between them).  It would be otherwise quite impossible for a non-Gheen to travel between the main section of the Rookery and the khauta docks on the city's peaks.

Below the bases of the spires where most of the city lies, the mountain's slopes have been carved into narrow terraces upon which a vast orchard grows.  The trees provide the residents with food and other goods, but they are not the only example of greenery.  Numerous vines and creepers grow from cracks in the rocks, as common on delicately carved walls and hewn surfaces as on natural slopes and boulders.  They grow with the normal speed of the Forest, and must sometimes be trimmed back to avoid damage to houses and other buildings.  These lower slopes of the mountain are steep but not insurmountable for a climber.  For land caravans, a few paths are hewn into the mountainside and wind their way up the terraces into the city.

The Chalklands are known as an inhospitable region partially because of the scarcity of surface water.  The porous limestone greedily swallows up the region's brooks and rivers, ushering them into the lightless worlds below where they generally out of reach of 'lightlings' (as the Golhai call surface-dwellers).  The Rookery exists solely because of a singular mechanical marvel: Yauree's Fan.  Like much of the region, the Threefold Mountain is riddled with caves, and at the mountain's base these caves merge in a vast water-filled chamber, an underground lake of considerable size.  Yauree's Fan is a windpump (like a windmill, but it pumps water instead of griding grain) that rises a hundred feet from the center of the city.  The windpump is a wooden tower with four sails on a freely rotating cap that moves with the direction of the winds that howl through the spires.  The water is pulled up from the lake below and flows down through a haphazard assembly of copper pipes and wooden sluices; most ends up in large cisterns at the base of the spires, but some of the more influential residents have their own pipe that provides them with water in their house.  Originally, the mountain had several springs from which the first settlers procured water, but the Fan has stabilized and lowered the local water table and these springs have been dry for generations.

The dry caves between the city and the underground lake are largely unexplored.  A group of delvers was originally sent below to establish the draw pipe to the Fan, but the residents otherwise have no interest in the caverns '" in the Clockwork Jungle, caverns (especially those in the Chalklands) are assumed to be the territory of the Golhai, who are understood as depraved, sorcerous predators that enjoy the suffering of their prey.  No reliable sighting of a Golha has ever been made in the caverns below the city, but the assumption persists.  Some surfacers do go this way, however '" though the city is too small to have a real 'underclass,' some of those who do not wish to be found (for a variety of reasons) escape into the natural caverns below.  There are other caves and carved-out 'cells' where religious hermits and ascetics live, who relish these spartan quarters as a way to prove their devotion or cleanse themselves of worldly desires.  The number of such 'delvers' who live below the city is unknown, but it cannot be too great, as there is no real source of food there.  Theft in the city is infrequent, but when it happens it is generally blamed on 'mad delvers.'  In general, the city pretends the delvers do not exist save as petty thieves and mildly threatening bogeymen to scare children with.

History

Traditional Gheen society does not lend itself readily to city life.  The Gheen think, act, and live in terms of the family, and to live apart from them '" indeed, in a teeming throng of strangers '" is completely alien.  Up to the present age, the only Gheen known in the Forest's few large communities were eccentrics, loners, and outcasts who had made a break with the ways of their people.  A city of Gheen was unthinkable.  The ever-changing world, however, has a way of overcoming the certainties of old and turning the unthinkable into the inevitable.

The Skyshield, one of the three so-called 'motherlands' of the Gheen, has always been relatively isolated despite its central location in the known world.  Bordered by the wild and dangerous marshes of the Chokereed, the white-capped wastes of the Chalklands, the hellish Obsidian Plain, and the forbidding mountains of the Halberd Spires, only the region's vague border with the Greenwash presents an avenue of entry for all but the most enterprising foreigners and aliens.  It was the Skyshield's isolation that prevented it from the scourge of the First Horde in the darkest days of the Recentering, but it fully felt the after-effects.  Displaced by war and banditry, refugees from other lands '" Gheen and non-Gheen alike '" began migrating from the Wash and into the Skyshield.  They contributed to the turmoil that already existed in the wake of the destruction of the Dominion Tree and the Diviner's Wrath, which had severely weakened any ability the local Gheen had to resist the infiltration of their territory by foreigners and aliens.

Though some conflicts did arise between aliens and the natives, often these new refugees were allowed to remain and build new communities.  After all, they were not tree-dwellers and had no interest in the canopy world of the Gheen.  It was through this 'settling of the ground' that the Skyshield Gheen became exposed to new ideas and customs.  As the Recentering faded, the newcomers began to bring caravans of goods from the communities of the Wash '" particularly White Lotus, which itself was becoming one of the focal points of a small but growing circle of trade around the Obsidian Plain.  The Skyshield was to contribute to the Black Circle route in an essential way, for it was a Skyshield Gheen who invented the khauta, and with it a new method of carrying goods around the edge of the Plain.

The Gheen communities of the Inner Skyshield became increasingly involved with the Black Circle route, some of them becoming occasional stopping points for air and land-borne merchants.  The Chalklands, however, formed a gap in the route where no civilization dwelled.  This was seen as an opportunity by Khee Akhele Yauree, the matriarch of the House of Akhele.  Her family held no royal titles and was at best a marginal power in the dreys in which it existed.  Akhele Yauree forged an agreement with two other Gheen families in similar situations, the Osheel and the Eeka, to found a new drey near the border of the Chalklands.  Existing dreys near this border, however (including Yeelya, whose Queen famously excoriated Akhele Yauree in an ironically prophetic fashion), were not happy with this rather obvious attempt to steal their choice positions on the route, and attacked the migrants in an attempt to break and disperse them.  Akhele Yauree and her followers fled into the Chalklands, and founded a new drey within a curious mountain with three peaks, which Akhele Yauree took as a sign of favor (for it represented the Three Families).  Officially, the name of the drey has always been Yaureechay, meaning 'Yauree's Haven,' but this is used only as a colloquialism by the city's own Gheen residents.  To all others, it is known as the Rookery.

People and Politics

The city's population is primarily Gheen; up to a generation after its founding, they approached 100% of the city's residents, but in present days the figure is closer to 70%.  The remainder are mostly Tahro and Umbril.  Owing to their natural (and mutual) antipathy towards the Gheen, Iskites are rather rare here as permanent residents, though a few Ussik do call the Rookery home.

Most residents live in extensive house complexes; the Gheen live with their extended family, and a single 'dwelling' often has between 20 and 40 residents (including kits).  These 'estates' are well-known, and neighborhoods of the city are known chiefly by which important families live there.  Aliens, as well as Gheen who do not have a large family presence in the city, live in smaller but similarly-made dwellings squeezed between the large estates.  The city has no inns or other public places for visitors '" instead, travelers are given lodging by the great estates in one of their many rooms.  Some come to a long-term agreement with a family and stay for months or years, becoming a useful advisor or retainer for a Gheen house.  This custom of 'alien cadres' (Shield Gheen: trlek yeeru, or simply yeeru, meaning 'confidant, co-conspirator') is apparently unique to the Rookery, where non-Gheen dedicated to a particular family can reach comparatively high levels of responsibility and importance despite not being connected to the family by blood.  One notable example is the Ajen-Umbril Vath-Elun Mafan, the 'right-hand alien' of the Eekan matriarch and reportedly the mastermind behind most of the city's trade agreements.

The Rookery is ruled by its Queen, and the current Queen is Eechol Akhele Sheel, the direct female-line descendent of Akhele Yauree.  The rule of the House of Akhele has been unbroken since the city's founding, but it is not absolute.  The Queen is the leader of the Sororal Conclave, a council of matriarchs from all the major Gheen families of the city.  This body debates issues of import and makes decisions on them through majority rule.  The Queen may veto their decision, unless both the matriarchs of the Osheel and the Eeka (the other two 'founding families' of the city) oppose the Queen's veto.  As with most Gheen politics, however, most real decision-making gets done behind the scenes in private sitting rooms and sweat dens.  This oligarchic mode of governance excludes the say of any aliens or Gheen unrelated to a major family, but this is not really any worse than the similarly exclusive government of White Lotus (or, for that matter, the complete and impenetrable autocracy of the City of Orpiment).

Akhele Sheel's first consort is Khol Yrta Ukalyk, whose family name is familiar to many '" he is a member of the House of Yrta and a cousin of Auk Yrta Su'u herself, known to most as the World-Queen.  His marriage to the Queen of the Rookery is the capstone of a formal 'pledge of friendship' between the Rookery and the Yrtan Empire.  This alliance, however, is no more than a gesture of racial and royal solidarity, for the Queen of the Rookery neither knows nor cares much about the distant Yrtan Empire (or vice versa).  For the World-Queen, such gestures are important to shore up her somewhat dubious legitimacy among the Gheen communities under her control, but she expects no tangible help from the Rookery or its royal line.  Regardless, the Ussik of the Rookery are vehemently opposed to this union in an expression of support for their oppressed brethren in the Clockwise Wash, and several scuffles have broken out as a result (including a sensational incident in which a group of resident Ussik pelted Yrta Ukalyk with rotten fruit '" and then rocks '" in the street, and very nearly killed him).

Like Koldon's Well and the Grove of Tranquility, the Rookery is a small city of comparatively little influence that is not viewed as a rival by the more populous and powerful cities of White Lotus, Greythorn, and the City of Orpiment.  Where the Well is closely allied to White Lotus, however, the Rookery is quite independent (and unlike the Grove, it has not maintained this independence simply because it hosts a fearsome and unknowable god-like entity).  As a result, all three of the 'Great Cities' (as the powerful three are sometimes called) have attempted to ingratiate themselves with the ruling classes of the Rookery.  Greythorn has been less than successful at this, but both White Lotus and the City of Orpiment have certain 'reliable' houses who can be counted on to side with their interests when the Sororal Conclave meets.  No power has yet to truly establish their sway over the Queen and her house, however, perhaps simply because the great distance between the Rookery and the Great Cities greatly constrains their ability to make credible threats.

Economy and Trade

The Rookery is not a great producer of goods; it produces some surplus fruit, but not in vast quantities.  Most of this fruit is distilled into brandy, which is more easily transportable by khauta and in higher demand on the Circle than dried fruit.

Its importance on the Black Circle derives primarily from the fact that it is the only settlement of any significance between the Grove of Tranquility and the Inner Skyshield, making it a critical place for re-supply, repair, and rest for ground caravans as well as Circle flyers.  It is also a key point for the diffusion of goods into the Skyshield, especially lodestones, tea, mineral pigments, and iron tools and weapons.

Still, the ground below the city does provide a few important exports.  The caverns (and surrounding cave networks) are rich in calcite alabaster, which is valued as a carving material.  The shallowest caverns can be easily accessed and stripped of the mineral, but more adventurous souls sometimes venture into deeper reaches for more precious deposits of alabaster as well as ornamental stones like rock crystal, onyx, and amethyst.  There is a small industry of stone sculptors in the Rookery, whose charms and statuettes are in some demand in other settlements on the Black Circle.

The final important product of the Rookery is also mineral in nature '" lime.  Limestone, when baked in a kiln, can be rendered into quicklime (and from there, slaked lime) which is one of the most in-demand manufactured goods in civilized lands.  Various forms of lime are used for mortar and plaster, tanning hides and skins, glassmaking, iron smelting, warfare (quicklime is extremely caustic), and even food preservation (the Tahro are known for this).  The Chalklands, along with Whitefen and parts of the Greater Cogsteeth, is an important source of lime, and the Rookery is the only real settlement in the region.  The weight and volume of lime means that it must usually be carried out by ground caravan rather than khauta, but it still brings in a great deal of business.

The Rookery has no set currency, official or otherwise.  The 'commodity money' of the City of Orpiment (copper '˜tiles') and White Lotus (tea bricks) is accepted like any other quantity of goods.

[spoiler=Notable Locations in the Rookery]
Path of Rebirth
In Gheen tradition, male kits must undergo a ceremony called the Great Fall in which the kit's blood is shed and it is thrown from a high platform.  It must reach the understory and then ascend the trees; when it returns, it returns as a full adult with all the privileges thereof.  In the Rookery, such a fall is not possible.  Some families choose to ignore this ritual as a result, but most send their sons to relatives or friends in the Skyshield so that they can engage in this tradition.  Recently, however, some have suggested that a local alternative is the best way to reproduce the spirit of the ritual.  A few families send their youths down into the caves beneath the city, to brave the darkness and fear and return to the surface with a cup of water from the great underground lake.  This alternate ritual is growing in popularity, though there are concerns that the journey '" though it is supposed to be dangerous '" may be too dangerous.  There is a set path on which this ritual takes place, to prevent kits from becoming hopelessly lost in the darkness.  It is not always clearly delineated, however, and the kit must look for signs and sigils indicating the way downward (and then upward, upon its return).  It is believed that the Path is close to the original path taken by the builders of Yauree's Fan.

Yauree's Fan
The windpump that supplies the city with water was built in Yauree's lifetime by a group of Iskite architects and engineers from Greythorn.  The mechanism itself, though large, is not terribly complicated, consisting of a single shaft driven by a freely-rotating cap that turns a very large screw pump below.  Its output varies based on the strength of the wind.  The structure remained in its original form until EVP 170, when the previous Queen hired a group of Orpimine clockmakers to build a three-faced tower clock within the structure.  The construction was plagued with problems but was eventually completed a decade later; three clock faces are presented towards each of the city's three spires, driven by a portion of the pumped water that is allowed to fall back into a cistern at the base of the tower.  It is the world's largest clocktower, but not the most accurate, for it has been known to gain or lose time when alterations in wind or water usage change the pressure of the water that drives its main wheel.  Though close enough for the average person's day-to-day timekeeping, it is a frequent butt of jokes both in the Rookery and elsewhere on the Black Circle ('he goes by Fan time' is a common Circle expression meaning that someone is often late, absent, or generally unreliable).

Ghaua's Sanctum
Some of the caverns of the Chalklands are quite beautiful, covered in sublime and wondrous formations that glimmer in the torchlight.  Just above the underground lake lies a large, roughly oval-shaped space that is especially astounding.  Its walls are frozen cascades of calcite, and thin translucent stalactites hang like delicate lace from the yawning dome above.  The cavern was originally dedicated to Ghaua, a goddess of silence, eternity, and repose (essentially a 'goddess of death,' but somber rather than sadistic or destructive).  Its location deep beneath the city means that it is rarely visited; giving offerings here was originally one of the Queen's many sacred duties, but it has been neglected over the years.  Some predict dire consequences from failing to appease a death-goddess in this way.  Now, it is likely that the sanctum is either unoccupied or an occasional home to a few very committed delvers.

Kiln District
A forest of chimneys rises from one of the saddles between two of the city's spires.  The area is filled with tightly-spaced domes, lime kilns that operate nearly continuously to fuel civilized industries hundreds of miles away.  Greythorn in particular has become increasingly reliant on Rookery lime for smelting and architecture, as the Orpimine Overseer has little desire to share its city's monopoly of supplies in the Golden Principality with the likes of the Solar Order.  Family and independently-owned furnaces vie with each other to create more and purer product, which is in turn fought over by merchants who stalk the winding alleyways in search of good bulk prices.  The district (also called 'the beehives' for the shape of the kilns) is often covered by a haze of kiln smoke, which occasionally blows into other areas of the city to the chagrin of residents there.  The economic importance of the kilns, however, is such that it is unlikely to be stopped by mere complaints.

The Windlass
The Rookery's position as a point of rest and resupply on long Circle journeys requires it to have some means for appeasing travelers and foreign merchants.  The Windlass is the city's most well-known 'business house,' a euphemistic Rookery term for a tavern.  Situated just above the base of the city's second spire, the Windlass offers an excellent view of the city center below.  Unlike the most popular establishments in some other cities of the Black Circle, the Windlass does not have a particularly bad reputation '" in part because the Queen has been known to visit on occasion.  The Windlass can actually be considered a literal house of business, as it is a common meeting-place for merchants, officials, and anyone else whose business is private but not nearly dastardly enough to seek out some netheel den on the edge of the Beehives.  Skauk'uk Taku Yim, the famous explorer and present Rookery resident, has a private porch here where he can sometimes be found working on another one of his popular writings.  He is rumored to also be the owner, though in reality he is simply on good terms with the actual owner, who keeps his (or her) ownership a secret to avoid familial and political meddling.[/spoiler]

Quote from: Polycarp!

QuoteUnrelated to anything in particular: a slightly larger margin might be good for the nav bar. In FF it edges really close to the text.

Any special name for the area beyond the known world? Something to evoke its danger/mystery?

I'll look at the wiki and see what I can do.

No, not really. But given how much else you've come up with, I believe you are up to the task ;)

All right, I fixed the margin issue for you. You had the margin set to "100" but you need to define the units; I set it to "10px."

Quote from: PhoenixAll right, I fixed the margin issue for you. You had the margin set to "100" but you need to define the units; I set it to "10px."

Wonderful!  It does look a lot better now.  Thanks for the help.

[/b][/size]

The Forest, as its denizens will tell you, is everywhere.  True enough, the deep waters have no plants growing upon them, but a great host of vegetation and remarkable flora exists on the beds of seas and lakes, just a continuation of the great Forest into underwater domains.  The Obsidian Plain stands alone in its denial of rampant growth.

But not quite '" for the cold can burn away the Forest just as completely as the fire of the Plain.  As on our world, there is such a thing as a treeline, above which the thin air and bitter chill are too much for even the mighty Forest to bear.  The trees become stunted and small until they disappear entirely, and further up not even these hardy specimens survive.  In some ways, the heights are even more dangerous than the Plain.  While the Plain is often bearable so long as one is not in the way of a lava flow, there are few places to hide from the cold and exhaustion upon the mountain heights that test the bravest and strongest creatures to their very limits.

Unlike the Plain, which offers great material rewards for those willing to venture deep within it, the highest reaches of the world possess few reasons for a traveler to ascend to them.  No lodestones await the brave or foolish here, and it is probably certain that only the depths of the seas are less well known than the tops of the Clockwork Jungle's mountains.  Yet these lands, while inhospitable, are not lifeless or empty.  Strange creatures call these places home, and live in awe of stranger creatures yet who have left their mark upon the mountaintops '" or sleep peacefully within the ice.

Regions

The 'White Desert,' as the heights of the world are sometimes collectively called, is not a great contiguous region like the 'Black Desert' of the Obsidian Plain.  It is found wherever mountains rise high enough to stop the Forest's growth.  While the border of the Obsidian Plain changes constantly, however, the size of these high deserts fluctuates only slightly with the season and the wind.  The White Desert is usually understood as composed of three domains separated by great distances:

The

Arcwhite, which includes the top of the Cogsteeth and Wyrmcrown and forms much of the barrier between the majority of the known world and the Outlands.*The Great Sickle, a land of glaciers and mountain lakes on the heights of the Fanged Rampart and the Halberd Spires that forms the outer rim of the Great Basin.*The High Antlers, by far the smallest of the three, that covers the highest reaches of Seven Antlers in the Outlands.[/list]
The Colonnade of the Stars, a great mountain range beyond the edge of the world, is also topped constantly in white, but no explorer has ever reached it (or at least, none have returned to tell of it).  A few have theorized that it continues clockwise and links with the Great Sickle someplace beyond the outer rim.

Ecology

The White Desert is divided into several distinct zones.  As one reaches the treeline, the plants become gnarled and stunted.  This borderland is known as an alpine thicket, and ranges in breadth depending on the terrain and slope.  The largest such borderland forms a distinct sub-region near the Inner Maw known as the Twistwood.  Both creatures from the Forest and the White Desert may stray into this borderland, making these areas prone to strange encounters between very alien creatures.
[note=Deserts]As the Clockwork Jungle has no 'deserts' as we usually understand them '" that is, places that are sandy, hot, and dry '" the term is used here in a manner similar to 'wasteland,' a barren place where the Forest does not exist.  Since the Forest is understood as the source of all life, places without it are very literally 'dead lands,' and the creatures within them are viewed as unnatural and even demonic.  The civilized races view such creatures in a somewhat similar manner to the way in which we view the undead '" abominations animated by some fell spirit or sorcery, for surely dead lands cannot beget real life.[/note]
Above the alpine thicket lie alpine meadows and scrublands.  These belts of treeless vegetation are called footlands because the vegetation seldom rises far above one's feet.  This is extremely rare in the Clockwork Jungle, as the Forest can grow to one's knees in a matter of days.  Where grasslands do exist in the Clockwork Jungle, they are massive; the Chromatic Plain, which makes up most of the Flowering Moors, consists of 15-20 foot tall grasses that bear more resemblance to giant bamboo than to a lawn.  Footlands are often blanketed in snow, sometimes for half the year or more.  Many of these meadowlands spring into bloom briefly once a year, coloring the hillsides brightly before fading away.

The highest reaches of the White Desert are ever-frozen and have no plants at all.  These places are known as whitecaps, barren lands, deadlands, or by other, similar names.

Ruins in the Desert

Unlike the Black Desert, the White Desert has ruins just as the Forest does.  Ancient buildings, statues, and complexes can be found in various states of integrity throughout the high mountains.  Legends persist of ruins kept pristine and safe from the world in hidden mountain valleys, and the Vars-Umbril speak very occasionally of a city of the Artificers that is mostly frozen within a great glacier in the Halberd Spires.  Skauk'uk Taku Yim wrote that he glimpsed this 'Frozen City' from a distance while he was a prisoner of the Vars, and that his captors claimed one could walk through some of the city's streets through great clefts in the glacier's surface.  'The Talus folk,' he wrote, 'respect the City but do not seem to fear it; I have asked if the ground is sacred to them, but they will tell me no more.'

Cogs can be found here as well, going about their inscrutable business as usual.  They seem unaffected by the cold or the thin air.  Some have seen Cogs trapped in glacial ice, or buried under avalanches.  Just as Forest animals do not venture into these regions, however, Cog analogues of these animals keep to their 'normal' environments and are seldom seen among the whitecaps.

The Desolation Bestiary

Many creatures of the Forest can be occasionally found in alpine thickets, and some may even stray '" by purpose or accident '" into higher regions.  Listed here are a few creatures who, in contrast, call these alpine lands their home.

Whiteback
A relative of the ubiquitous Speckled Cat, the Whiteback is a lithe, muscled predator capable of awesome leaps and bone-crushing bites.  It appears larger than its Forest cousin, in part because of its thicker coat which goes from a dirty bluish-grey on the feet to a nearly pure white on the back and tail.  Whitebacks hunt alone or in pairs, unlike pack-hunting Speckled Cats.  They prey primarily on Forest creatures in cloud forests and alpine thickets, but make their homes in rocky caves and crevasses in the footlands.  Whiteback fur commands a high price in the market, and a Whiteback cloak is considered in some places to be the quintessential garb of the explorer (though few actual explorers could afford to buy one).

Mered
'Strange folk are the Mered,' begins a well-known story of Koath the Silverseeker, and it does not lie '" at least, not in this particular matter.  The Mered are Gheen-sized mammals with thick, shaggy brown fur, an unexpectedly swift loping gait, long tufted ears, and huge eyes that take up most of their faces.  These eyes are pools of pale, softly glowing blue light, lacking pupils or any other distinguishing feature.  'Mered' is an Umbril name, but they are also called 'Watchers,' for this is what they do.  Travelers to the Arcwhite often see pairs of blue lights through the fog and falling snow, but the Mered seldom get closer, and easily outrun most creatures.  There is more mystery than fact regarding the Mered, and it is unclear what they eat or how they survive.  Koath and other travelers have reported strange encounters with them; an Iskite traveler over the Wyrmcrown reported exiting his tent to see three of them gathered around his dead campfire, all three of them staring silently at him with their unblinking eyes.  'No more than a few seconds later,' he wrote, 'the snowfall became a sudden snowstorm, and it seemed that the snow concealed them so that their bodies faded from my sight, leaving only six blue lights, which then too faded quickly away.'  The Mered are said to abduct lone travelers in such storms, and their companions insist that the abducted are never seen again once they vanish in the chill fog.

The aforementioned story of Koath the Silverseeker, one of many about his travels, details Koath's quest to recover a companion who was taken by the Mered.  It ends with Koath falling unconscious in a snowstorm, but awakening '" alone '" back in his camp, where he briefly sees the figure of his lost companion through the falling snow '" but his companion now has great glowing eyes of his own.  It is a tale to regale children with, and may or may not be a real story of the legendary explorer.

Ikysk
The Ikysk (IK-eesk) or skinthief is a large predatory bird, about the size of a grizzly bear, that makes its nest in the White Desert.  These nests are usually built on remote cliffs and inaccessible defiles, and resemble large egg-shaped baskets of logs, feathers, and animal skins large enough to hold two such creatures in close quarters.  These nests are only accessible through a hole in their underside, presumably to hold the heat in.  Ikysks prey on a variety of Forest life in the alpine thickets and the Forest's fringes below.  The Ikysk, however, does not kill with its talons or beak as a canopy wyrm does.  Rather, it has a muscular, 'scaly' tail reminiscent of a rat's tail that is prehensile and as long as its own body.  The Ikysk snatches prey up with its tail and brings them to a killing roost, a treetop that the Ikysk has carved into one or more stout spikes with its beak, and impales the creature.  After eating its fill, it returns to the nest, and presumably regurgitates some of this food for its young.

Ikysks are known to line their nests with skins, and they prefer the skins of furry mammals.  During its nesting season, it kills not for food but for skins, and its thin, curved claws are ideal for flaying corpses.  Iskites and Umbril do not interest it, but the more hirsute Gheen and Tahro sometimes fall victim to an Ikysk in nesting season (especially the Gheen, as they are most often found in the canopies where it hunts).  The cold of the bird's homeland protects these skins, uncured as they are, from rotting too quickly.  There are stories of travelers sleeping in Ikysk dens (because they were caught in a snowstorm and had no other choice), almost always ending in the death of either the bird or the interloper (usually the latter).  There is one story, however, in which Aza Frosttongue survived the encounter by covering herself in skins from the nest walls and lying very still '" a risky strategy, to be sure, especially against such keen-eyed beasts.

Hoary Ape
The Hoary Ape is, as its name suggests, an ape-like creature with silvery fur.  They appear oddly fat because of the layer of insulating blubber on them, but they are surprisingly agile for their apparent girth.  Hoary Apes will eat virtually anything in their habitat, and may be found feasting on flesh as often as grazing in alpine meadows.  They may have some rudimentary intelligence, for they are smart enough to use large rocks as missiles to kill prey or threatening creatures, and have been known to purposefully start rockslides or avalanches.  Except for such rocks, however, they show no evidence of tool use.  They are fascinated by fire but unable to reproduce it themselves.  Explorers have told tales of stopping a Hoary Ape attack by holding up a torch, which grabs the creature's attention wholly '" but they seemingly have no idea that the fire will burn them, and fly into a murderous rage when they attempt to grasp the fire and find it only causes them pain.  Szen-Sel the Whistler, an Iskite explorer of the Age of Prophets, is said to have trapped a Hoary Ape by using fire as a lure and brought it back in a cage to her master in Scalemount, but the pitiable creature did not long survive in captivity in the sweltering Forest.  These creatures live in small family groups in shallow caves and clefts, and are often hunted by the dreaded Ikysk.

Koth
The Koth, or colorbane, is the stuff of nightmares.  Common belief is that it is not a 'creature' at all, but a demon or some other spirit from another world.  Because they are so rare, some surmise that there is really only a handful of them, or a single widely-traveled being.  One, it is generally agreed, is more than enough for this world or any other.

The Koth is an eight-legged creature with black fur and yellow eyes about the size of a small horse.  It is difficult to describe the Koth in detail because of the way in which it affects its surroundings.  Where a Koth goes, everything seems dimmer '" light fades, colors become dull and bleed into each other, and details become vague and indistinct.  A Koth is always seen blurrily, for the effect is strongest when it is very near.  Its form seems somewhat lupine (though the natives of the Clockwork Jungle do not describe it this way, for their world has no dogs or wolves).  At first, those in the vicinity of a Koth may simply think there is water in their eyes or that they are a bit too tired.  Only when it is too late do most realize that something is horribly wrong.  Fighting a Koth is usually pointless, for it is not only difficult to see but also strong, quick, and vicious.  Those few who have survived have generally done so by simple luck (or they are making things up).  The Koth seems to enjoy the fear of its victim, allowing it to stumble around in terror as it gets more and more lost trying to flee with muddled eyes.

The Koth bears many legends.  Some say that objects brought near a Koth never regain their true colors again, always remaining dull and faded.  It is a common rumor that the Koth only eats the eyes of its victim and then abandons it to die, blind and helpless, in the frozen wastes.  Asaur Yi'auk believed that he could keep the beast from taking interest in him by wearing colorless clothes and keeping lamps and fires dim (and indeed, he never met one in his explorations '" though neither do most who travel the White Desert).  Szen-Sel the Whistler claimed to have killed a Koth once and said that its characteristic 'effect' fades when it dies, but she also claimed that the corpse was stolen from her by an Ikysk before she could show it to others.  Merchants can sometimes be found claiming to sell Koth skins as wards against evil spirits, but these are just ape or cat skins dyed black.  The well-informed know that a real Koth skin would be essentially priceless regardless of whether it warded off evil spirits or not.

Culture and Folklore

As snow only exists within these blighted lands at the top of the world, it is not well understood by the creatures of the Forest.  Most members of the civilized races live their entire lives without seeing snow, and most of those that do only see it from afar, atop peaks that rise in the foggy distance.  Snow is an object of fear, and many ascribe a malign intelligence to it; snow is sometimes described as a single 'entity' that snuffs out life and heat wherever it exists (compare this with the Saffron Moss, which is also composed of many patches unified by a single mind).  Many believe snow and frost to be innately poisonous.  If the winds change and snow is blown onto a valley settlement, it is seen as an omen of death and the place is often quickly abandoned.  Iskites, Umbril, Gheen, and Tahro alike may refuse to so much as look at snow: there are plenty of settlements with plain views of mountaintops whose residents habitually avert their eyes much as one avoids looking at the sun.

This view is widespread, but not universal.  The Vars-Umbril, a reclusive variety of the fungal race that lives in the mountain valleys of the Halberd Spires, prefer to avoid the 'frozen rivers' above but do not believe they will be cursed merely by touching or looking upon snow.  The Lost Flock, the remnants of the once great Gheen civilization of the Chalicewood, have been driven progressively higher and higher into the mountains by the expansion of the Mosswaste, and any fear they have of the alpine lands is overridden by the more pressing fear of the Peril and its servants.  Interestingly, khauta flyers are sometimes the least superstitious of all, as they are used to the frost that often forms on their ropes and baskets in mountainous regions (though some, having survived an accident in such a place, ascribe their misfortune to the snows and stay far from those routes in the future).

There is a persistent rumor among non-Umbril that telavai, the shriveled fungal elders who have achieved eternal life, sustain their existence by eating snow (and snow-eater is a reasonably common synonym for telavai in some areas).  This is almost certainly untrue, but references to snow-eating telavai can be found in several legends and fairy tales that involve Umbril villains.

In the regions surrounding the Arcwhite, legends speak of an evil deity called the Rime Dancer, who causes snow to fall by dancing upon the tops of clouds and creates frost by brushing its fog-like cloak over the landscape.  The specific name, looks, and gender of the entity differs from race to race and culture to culture, but the concept is recognizable from Scalemount to the Red Depths.  Cults of the Rime Dancer are especially pronounced among the peoples of the Clockwise Maw.

The most famous mortal connected with these regions was Koath the Silverseeker, a Tahr explorer who spent years making expeditions into the Wyrmcrown.  Koath believed that just as the Black Desert harbors the Black Treasure (lodestone), the White Desert hides the White Treasure (which Koath believed to be silver, a very rare metal that is many times more valuable than gold in the Clockwork Jungle).  Koath discovered many things, but never found his silver.  Most of the knowledge of the White Desert in general and the Arcwhite in particular comes from Koath and stories associated with him (some of which are more fanciful than others).  Koath, who eventually vanished on one of his expeditions, probably has more legends about the manner of his death than any other historical figure.

Career explorers of the White Desert are very few, but some are quite famous.  Koath the Silverseeker, Szen-Sel the Whistler, Aza Frosttongue, and Asaur Yi'auk are household names in the regions around the Arc.  Explorers of the Great Sickle are fewer and less well-known, in part because the Vars-Umbril of those lands do not readily share their stories with others.  Stories about these adventurers are of doubtful accuracy, freely mixing fact with fiction until neither is recognizable from the other.  Many were probably written to teach a lesson or simply to entertain.  Koath in particular is perceived as something of a madman, and stories about him usually praise his unorthodox methods of getting himself out of sticky situations at the same time that they use his strange habits and quixotic notions for comedic value.  As alpine exploration is not viewed as a particularly sane vocation, however, attributions of eccentricity are not limited to the Silverseeker.

I would absolutely love to learn how you come up with your ideas and writing. It is so incredibly in depth that it really brings the world to life.

Quote from: Prone To WanderingI would absolutely love to learn how you come up with your ideas and writing. It is so incredibly in depth that it really brings the world to life.

Well, ideas come from everywhere, I guess.  Some ideas go dormant for a very long time.  For instance, I knew very early on in this project that I wanted to have a few areas above the treeline, but never put more thought into it until now.  I have a whole folder full of half-finished ideas like that, things that I've written about for a few minutes before I change my mind or exhaust my ideas.  This is what my campaign folder looks like right now:

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/files.png)

Some of those files will never see the light of day; some of them reflect events and themes I already know fully but haven't bothered to really set down in text.  Some have a long, long way to go before they'll ever be ready. (Kabarye, for example, is an "optional supplement" to the Clockwork Jungle that details a race of nomadic humans who ride ibexes the size of horses in a region outside the Forest, beyond the outer rim, intended as an alien land and people for Forest characters to discover or a beginning for human characters to explore the Forest from the unique perspective of an outsider.  I may never end up doing anything with it.)

The most important consideration for me is how the characters in a story interact with new additions.  I had no idea that the civilized peoples were going to be afraid of snow until I actually started a heading called "culture and folklore" and thought about how snow would be perceived.  I have to struggle with shedding my own ideas - snow is obviously frozen water and not dangerous.  But what if you'd never seen it before?  What if your assumptions about the world are totally different from mine?  When I think about these things, the connections follow - "hey, snow is a monochromatic blanket that covers everything and kills creatures, sort of like the Saffron Moss."

It feels a little bit pretentious to talk about "my process" as if I were an artist, partially because I don't really have one - there's no method for my idea generation.  The "depth," however, is something I do consciously try to go for by thinking in terms of characters (the characters, in this case, are the civilized races).  The nature of something is equally what it actually is and what the characters in the world think it is; sometimes I'm pretty vague on the difference between these two things, which is good, because the characters wouldn't draw any such distinction.

I hope that's... moderately enlightening?

Quote from: Polycarp!

Quote from: Prone To WanderingI would absolutely love to learn how you come up with your ideas and writing. It is so incredibly in depth that it really brings the world to life.

Well, ideas come from everywhere, I guess.  Some ideas go dormant for a very long time.  For instance, I knew very early on in this project that I wanted to have a few areas above the treeline, but never put more thought into it until now.  I have a whole folder full of half-finished ideas like that, things that I've written about for a few minutes before I change my mind or exhaust my ideas.  This is what my campaign folder looks like right now:

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/files.png)

Some of those files will never see the light of day; some of them reflect events and themes I already know fully but haven't bothered to really set down in text.  Some have a long, long way to go before they'll ever be ready. (Kabarye, for example, is an "optional supplement" to the Clockwork Jungle that details a race of nomadic humans who ride ibexes the size of horses in a region outside the Forest, beyond the outer rim, intended as an alien land and people for Forest characters to discover or a beginning for human characters to explore the Forest from the unique perspective of an outsider.  I may never end up doing anything with it.)

The most important consideration for me is how the characters in a story interact with new additions.  I had no idea that the civilized peoples were going to be afraid of snow until I actually started a heading called "culture and folklore" and thought about how snow would be perceived.  I have to struggle with shedding my own ideas - snow is obviously frozen water and not dangerous.  But what if you'd never seen it before?  What if your assumptions about the world are totally different from mine?  When I think about these things, the connections follow - "hey, snow is a monochromatic blanket that covers everything and kills creatures, sort of like the Saffron Moss."

It feels a little bit pretentious to talk about "my process" as if I were an artist, partially because I don't really have one - there's no method for my idea generation.  The "depth," however, is something I do consciously try to go for by thinking in terms of characters (the characters, in this case, are the civilized races).  The nature of something is equally what it actually is and what the characters in the world think it is; sometimes I'm pretty vague on the difference between these two things, which is good, because the characters wouldn't draw any such distinction.

I hope that's... moderately enlightening?

Very much so, and it helps me understand alot of how your process works (whether you like it or not you're an artist... your work is way too good for me to not consider you one :P ).

If the koth is so effective, why are there so few? Or is that part of the mystery? What are they vulnerable to? why do they not reproduce?

I think that most recent writeup is easily one of your best. Thank you also for the description of your process!

Quote from: Light DragonIf the koth is so effective, why are there so few? Or is that part of the mystery? What are they vulnerable to? why do they not reproduce?

I think that most recent writeup is easily one of your best. Thank you also for the description of your process![/quote]I appreciate it!  This is an experiment with a new, broader writeup that touches multiple bases (culture, creatures, geography, and so on), and I think I'll use more like it in the future.

Are the Koth actually considered to be fact? Or are they more like the Abominable Snowman/yeti; a creature some claim to have seen but which there is no proof of.

Quote from: Cataclysmic CrowAre the Koth actually considered to be fact? Or are they more like the Abominable Snowman/yeti; a creature some claim to have seen but which there is no proof of.

are[/i] fact.  Descriptions of them seem to be fairly consistent from sighting to sighting, making it unlikely that it's all a giant conspiracy, but who knows what kind of things people see when oxygen-deprived and in a half-frozen delirium.

As for proof, there is no material proof, only the oaths of those who claim to have seen them.

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/szalkborder.jpg)

[/size][/b]
[ic=The Memorial]Your thicket-knife slashes once more through the reticulated ivy that hangs over the stone gateway, and a great mass of vegetation slides off the lintel and into a great heap at your feet.  Ahead lies a long courtyard with a broad trench running down it.  Once, this ditch was paved with moss-covered planks, a 'hidden' drainage system that kept the atria and gardens from flooding even during the worst rains.  Now, it is little more than a crumbled furrow from which great trees shoot above the highest towers of the complex.

The courtyard is flanked by two vaulted arcades that proceed onward towards the central tower.  With time and the Forest's inexorable progress, the character of these edifices has been obscured, but once you hack away the vines and creepers it becomes clear that this place is not the work of the Artificers.  The stonework is made in earnest imitation, but it is blockier, more angular, and not nearly as delicate.  The stones have not yet acquired the shadowy patina of those most ancient of ruins, and still show the signatures of gouge and chisel.

Most revealing, however, is the nature of the engravings and statuaries that adorn the gate and arcades.  The art of the Artificers is known by all: bas-reliefs with austere, stylized, almost abstract depictions of shapes, plants, animals, and cogs that reduce shapes to the minimum number of lines required to convey a thought or image.  In contrast, the walls and columns of this ruin are covered in depictions of everyday life '" everyday Iskite life '" rendered in tremendous, almost superfluous detail in deep, bold intaglio.  The scaled people are eternally hard at work within these walls, building, hunting, crafting, and raising the very pillars of the complex you now stand within.  A thousand years has not yet removed every trace of the finest details '" the scales on a soldier's cuirass, the feathers on a servant's fan, the gold-covered hackles of the Lady's counselors.

The Lady '" a figure of antiquity '" is dead.  Her culture is lost, now unrecognizable to latter generations of her race.  Her name and memory, along with the world she lived in, is preserved only within these walls.  Someday, she will be remembered only as the Artificers themselves are: as a nameless specter, an abstraction of history and purpose that set men and beasts into motion in pursuit of the lasting glory that only stone can provide.[/ic]

The civilized races grew up among the ruins of a people they never even knew '" people with no stories and no faces, known by nobody.  Yet these people must have existed, and their legacy has inspired the four races since their collective infancy.  Much of modern art and architecture can be traced back to interpretations of Artificer art.  One can find places where the reliefs of the ancients have been 'defaced,' but often this is a very reverent kind of vandalism, an attempt to add to these wonders in an attempt to gain their immortality.

The Gheen have long believed in the immortality of the blood '" as long as one has descendents, one is never truly dead.  In Tahro tradition, the spirit is never extinguished, but moves back and forth between the spirit world and the physical world in an endless migration.  The Umbril too believe in a kind of natural immortality in which they will be re-absorbed by and forever part of Ivetziven, the great mycelial web that underlies all things.  The Iskites alone, for whatever reason, never truly developed such a conception of the world.  From the earliest days, they looked to the ruins of the Artificers and drew one powerful lesson from them '" flesh dies, words are forgotten, but stone always remains.

Some say that the Iskite predilection for permanent construction and architecture derives from this idea of 'immortality through works.'  Never has this predilection been more evident than in the years of antiquity before the Age of Prophets, and nowhere is it better embodied than in the szalk.

'Szalk' (plural szalkas) once meant a megalith or stele '" a large stone, usually a free-standing one, that serves as a monument, marker, or ritual stone.  The term has changed over time to refer to a monumental, non-Artificer stone complex.  In antiquity, Iskite civilization was largely ruled by hereditary lords, and those with great power and wealth sometimes chose to display this through the construction of 'mock ruins' in the style of the Artificers that came to be known as szalkas.

Szalkas developed into ever larger and more elaborate structures over the generations.  Initially, they were built within or at the edge of villages as a ruler's residence, but later szalkas were massive complexes with concentric ring walls, columned arcades, buttressed towers, and as many works of art and sculpture as could be fit within them.  Though they are reminiscent of castles, most were not seriously designed for defense, and indeed many were constructed by villages that had few fears of raiding or invasion.  Often they were not even within a village itself, instead placed some miles away and visited only rarely.  The purpose of a szalk, after all, was not to be a bastion or true residence, but to stand as a monument glorifying a leader and a people.  Like the pyramids of the pharaohs, Szalkas were intended to be eternal, forever immortalizing the name and deeds of their builder.  Some were (and remain) tombs, where great lords decreed that their bodies should be interred so that one day their descendents would look upon their work and the ancient bones at its center and say 'truly, a great man lies here.'

The great shift in Iskite culture towards the end of the years of antiquity marked the end of these great constructions.  Heredity and monarchy were rejected together, and with them died the idea of the great structure built to glorify and immortalize an undeserving autocrat.  Those szalkas that remained near villages were gradually taken apart and used for building more utilitarian structures, or simply toppled and left in ruins as a firm denial of the old order.  The szalkas that remained in the deeper Forest, however, were mostly forgotten, and many still remain today.  Their number is miniscule compared to the ruins of the Artificers, but they are notable for their (comparatively) recent construction and their relative safety, since one will generally not find Cog Soldiers guarding them.

Because of this latter consideration, some have been adopted by Tahr bloods as seasonal camps.  The largest and most famous of these complexes, Szalk Kengal, is a well-traveled Red Camp for more than a dozen Tahr bloods in the clockwise foothills of the Wyrmcrown.  A few became areas of new Iskite settlement after the Recentering, as refugees of the Orange Horde sought new and more protected places to live.  Most Szalkas are found in Scalemount or the Clawed Thicket, with lesser numbers in the Vinetrough, the Maw, and the counterclockwise Netai littoral.  Some unknown number probably still stand in the Mosswaste, having been built there when the land was uncorrupted.

[note=Prelude]This is a pretty minor feature, but a component of my next overarching goal '" to pick a certain region (not just a city this time) and flesh it out fully.  The region that will get this treatment first is at the edge of Scalemount and has a number of these 'castles.'  It's also a step towards tackling an important issue in the setting - how the people of the CJ interact with and understand the ruins (which are, after all, one of the major distinguishing features of the world).  If we copy classical architecture in so many of our great buildings, why wouldn't the civilized races of the Forest copy the Artificers?[/note]Most, however, are still abandoned.  Explorers have 're-discovered' many, often taking treasures and relics with them for personal gain or to bequeath upon their home communities.  Szalkas were never intended as treasuries, but some that were used for burial or seasonal residence hold valuable objects of ritual and art that could catch a decent price in the right locale.  Some have also been found to include valuable cultural artifacts; it was in such a szalk that the first two books of the Mainspring Analects were first re-discovered during the Age of Prophets.  To deter thieves, some of the original szalk-builders installed traps and snares in the innermost chambers.  Not all of these have survived hundreds of years of decay and neglect, but some are still just as deadly as they were on the day they were made.

[ic=Analogies of the Analects]The bolt lacking a crossbow: the clever man lacking righteousness.
The saber lacking a hilt: the lofty mind lacking discipline.
The helmbreaker lacking a haft: the strong will lacking ritual.
- The Mainspring Analects[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/armoryborder.jpg)


The vast majority of the civilized peoples of the Forest live in small communities of no more than a few hundred.  They know each other, and all have some responsibility for protecting each other.  Even the Iskites, who typically maintain professional warriors in every settlement, know that an unarmed populace is an invitation to tragedy.  Full-scale war may be rare in the deep jungle, but sudden attacks by animal and Cog predators, lightning raids by neighboring communities, and incursions by the Peril's abominations are all possibilities, and may not come at a time when a settlement's seasoned warriors are ready to repel them.
[note=Festivals]Actually, I'm working on my contribution to the TFC (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?70817.last) currently, but I've had this sitting around for a while and I thought now would be as good a time as any to edit and post it.  As far as adventurers are concerned, it's pretty important information, even if specifics are a bit spare.  You may notice that this is pretty heavily influenced by Chinese warfare, from the weapons to the "chemical warfare."  Part of that was purposeful, but to some extent it just seemed to come naturally from my assumptions about how these things would work in the CJ environment.  Weird, huh?[/note]
There are, therefore, very few 'non-combatants' in the world of the Clockwork Jungle.  All the civilized races afford their common people with some degree of training in order to better their odds against a predator or allow them to support their more capable fighters in time of war.  This is accomplished in different ways: for the Tahro, physical training takes the form of sport, while the Iskites conduct drills that involve the whole community.  No matter how they are trained, however, the people of the Forest communities are sure to arm themselves.  There is no settlement or polity in the known world that bars its own citizens from carrying weapons '" foreigners may sometimes be required to disarm, but even that is an uncommon custom that indicates an unusually paranoid regime.  It is expected that all will be ready to defend themselves and their community, and they demonstrate this readiness to others through arms.

Because of the close relationship between the common people and their weapons, many common weapons of the Clockwork Jungle '" as on Earth '" ultimately derive from common tools, or are themselves multi-use implements that serve double duty as objects of craft and combat.  Even common people, however, may possess arms meant specifically for combat.  True, one will usually not see a craftsman carrying a Helmbreaker around, but that craftsman may well have one hung above the mantle at home for the day he is called upon to stand against the most savage creatures of the Forest.

Common Weapons of the Forest

No weapon is more central to the iconography of the middle ages than the sword.  In the Clockwork Jungle, the sword is still an important weapon, but the straight, double-edged longswords and arming swords of medieval knights are unknown.  The Clockwork Jungle sword developed from the machete, a tool that sees widespread usage in dense jungle thickets.  A machete, known here as a thicket knife, is a multi-purpose tool carried by many individuals of all four races.  Over time, these tools developed into a strictly military weapon broadly described as a saber and most closely resembling a dao (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dao_(sword)) or falchion (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Falchion) with a heavy, straight-backed, single-edge blade.  The 'greatsaber,' a two-handed version of this, is not a very common weapon, primarily because it is too large to be useful as a brush-cutting tool (something even a military saber can do if it becomes necessary).

The leaf sword represents the main competitor with the saber for blade design.  The length of a short sword with a gently curving leaf-shaped blade, leaf swords are double-edged but are primarily stabbing weapons used in a similar manner to a gladius.  They are used most commonly among the Iskites '" and the enemies of the Iskites, who prefer it for its ability to penetrate armor.

Settlements without ready access to metal use a bladed club, a club studded with obsidian bladelets like an Aztec Macuahuitl (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macuahuitl).  Even communities with plenty of metal may use these weapons, as they allow small Cogsteel teeth and claws to be used in the construction of a sword, a weapon that ordinarily cannot be made of Cogsteel.

The axe, another useful tool, also sees common use as a weapon.  Military axes are categorized by the shape of their blade (the trumpet axe, crescent axe, and beaked axe, which is better known to us as a dagger-axe (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dagger-axe)).  The Iskites are known for their use of the poleaxe, or halberd, which has grown into a commonly recognized symbol of Iskite power throughout the Forest.  A derivative of this is the polefan, also known as a mosscutter, a hemi-circular blade mounted on the end of a stave.

On Earth, massed formations of spears (and pikes) formed an important part of warfare from the ancient era to the renaissance.  In the Forest, however, 'armies' tend to be far too small to make good use of the tactics that made Alexander famous, and the jungle terrain makes wielding a long spear '" let alone a group of men wielding them together '" an exercise in futility.  Spears are still very common weapons, but virtually all of them are short enough to be thrown.  Even the trident, a common weapon even outside seaside and riparian communities, is seldom made long or heavy enough as to render it impractical as a throwing weapon.

Cogs, as a rule, are easier to damage by blunt, crushing blows than with blades or sharp points.  As a result, maces and warhammers are common sidearms, and the most formidable Cog-hunting weapon (also useful against plate-clad Iskites) is the helmbreaker, a solid iron cylinder with a single sharp spike on the end mounted on a wooden haft.  It can be swung as a two-handed mace or thrust like a short, heavy spear (much like a goedendag (http://www.manoymedia.com/images/pef_320_LRG.jpg)).

Bows enjoyed widespread use long before the advent of the crossbow, but their development has been stalled for some time.  Composite bows never developed because they tend to fall apart in wet environments, an obvious handicap in a rainforest.  Without that technology, the only way for bows to increase in power and range is by lengthening them substantially, which makes them useless to the Gheen.  Other races occasionally use longbows, but each (for various reasons) eventually moved away from them as a primary ranged weapon: the Iskites, preferring to fight from behind fortifications, found the crossbow to more perfectly suit their needs.  In the close quarters of jungle thickets and colony tunnels, the Umbril found longbows to be too cumbersome.  The Tahro in general have never relied heavily on ranged weapons, preferring to take advantage of their prodigious strength and close to melee quickly.  As a result, bows both long and short are considered to be primarily hunting weapons that may be pressed into service in a skirmish if needed.  Few professional soldiers use them, though many are familiar with their use.  The role of dedicated ranged weapon has fallen to the crossbow instead.

Crossbows range from light stonebows or 'bullet crossbows,' which fire hard clay, stone, or lead pellets for bird hunting, to the heavy Iskite windlass-spanned arbalest that can even pierce steel plate at short range.  The best of these latter weapons use thin and flexible Cogsteel 'bones' as prods.  Though the Iskites are known for these devices, it was the Umbril who are said to have invented the repeating crossbow, essentially identical to the Chinese version (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Repeating_crossbow).  Larger, stationary versions of these are used by the Iskites and Gheen to defend their settlements; the most advanced are hopper-fed and can sustain continuous fire for up to several minutes.  Stationary ballistae, called 'talon-throwers,' are used by the Netai Smokefleet and other regional khauta fleets to shoot at enemy crews and snag envelopes, but these are torsion-powered and not mechanically related to tension-powered crossbows.  In general, though blade-forging technology in the Forest has not progressed much further than Iron Age Earth, crossbow technology is at least comparable to what was achieved in the Renaissance.  The finest Iskite arbalests are probably more powerful and accurate than such weapons ever became on Earth, primarily because gunpowder has not had the opportunity to divert attention away from the continuing development of the crossbow.
 
Hand crossbows '" referring to those smaller devices that can be fired with a single hand '" exist, but are not in common use.  They are capable neither of the fast rate of fire of the repeating crossbow nor the armor-piercing power of the arbalest.  Since few will even think twice about someone carrying a full-size crossbow around due to the prevalence of weapons in nearly every community, concealment is less of a concern than it might be among societies with stricter regulations on weapons.  Hand crossbows remain a decidedly niche weapon unheard of in professional armories.

Many thrown weapons also fill the arsenals of Forest settlements.  As mentioned, most spears are designed to be thrown, but warriors also use long, flexible darts that are designed to be thrown with a dart-thrower, a hooked stick that can catapult these light projectiles with great speed and force.  Throwing axes, clubs, and knives are somewhat less common, but still find use, particularly among the Gheen.  The Umbril also use an odd-looking throwing weapon called a branch knife, with multiple curving blades that decrease the range of the weapon but make it more likely to score at least a scratch on a target; as the Umbril usually poison their weapons, just a scratch can be enough.  When attempting to capture or disable an enemy, bolas and spiked nets are thrown.  The Tahro have made bola-throwing into a sport and are consequently very proficient in their use.

Other Ways of War

Poisons find a great deal of use in combat.  None of the civilized races have any kind of legal or ethical prohibitions against poison; the civilized peoples of the Forest would scoff at the idea that poison is especially 'cruel' or 'inhumane,' as if stabbing or shooting someone is not.  Some cities of the Netai have controls on poisons, but this is at the behest of the chronically paranoid Confederation power structure rather than a reflection of ethical standards.  In most communities, 'poisonmonger' is a respected trade that is not considered to be any different than the vocation of a weaponsmith '" if anything, it may be more prestigious.
[note=Chivalry]The status of poisons in the world offers a glimpse at the concept of chivalry in the Clockwork Jungle - it doesn't really exist.  The hostile environment has generally precluded ideas about "honorable" warfare from taking root; the closest analog is Tahro "ritual war" that happens between bloods to settle disputes (but the Tahro pay no heed to their notions of honorable war when fighting aliens).  As Thals-Tadun Nata once famously quipped, "the only dishonorable warrior is a defeated warrior."[/note]
Though the Umbril are known as the masters of plant and fungal toxins, poisons are used regularly by all four races.  Blowguns with poisoned darts are common weapons for both hunting and warfare (save among the Umbril themselves, who are anatomically unable to use them), and poison is applied to throwing knives, arrows, thrown darts, thicket knives, repeating crossbow bolts, and other weapons and projectiles that tend not to kill outright.

Various other substances have also seen some occasional use in combat.  Fire Oil or Searing-Sap is the name given to a sticky, highly flammable substance made from a blend of tree resins that cannot be doused by water.  It is primarily used to light flaming arrows and bolts, but was employed to great effect against ships and balloons by the Confederation, the Oranids, and the Right Orientation Alliance during the Netai Wars.  Caustic powdered quicklime, made by burning limestone, has also been used to inflict pain and blindness on the enemy for hundreds of years (the Gheen in particular are known for this tactic).

For generations, herbalists and natural philosophers with a more martial bent have noted combinations of herbs, fungi, minerals, and even animal dung that produce useful fumes and smoke-clouds.  The list of such compounds is long and well-documented.  Some create a lasting cloud to obscure the enemy's sight, while others incapacitate with noxious vapors or create poison fogs that kill in minutes.  According to legend, the Orpimine Overseer ordered ditches filled with valuable orpiment and realgar to be lit aflame in the path of the advancing Orange Horde, filling the air with sulfur and arsenic gases (the Horde did indeed leave the city alone after a brief and unsuccessful attempt at conquest).

Protection

Armor in the Clockwork Jungle has developed according to the unique environmental conditions of the world, as well as the weapons a warrior most frequently finds arrayed against him.  One might assume armor in the jungle must remain light because of the overpowering heat and humidity, but the denizens of the Forest are biologically accustomed to it.  They can freely wear armor that might well give a human heat stroke in the same environment.  Even so, most races prefer lighter armor because it allows them to use the Forest understory to their advantage.  The Gheen in particular rely on their mobility to prevail in a fight, and staying light is important to them.  The heaviest armor is only in common use among the Iskites; in their settlement clearings, being able to climb trees is not an issue.

Even when armor is light, it tends to cover as much skin as possible, a necessity borne of the ubiquity of poison in Forest warfare (though the Gheen, resistant to poison as they are, put less emphasis on this in their designs).  Having a good breastplate is of small comfort if a poisoned bolt scratches your bare arm.  Armor is often worn in multiple layers '" a softer, lighter inner layer to keep glancing blows from breaking the skin, and a harder, heavier outer layer to protect vital parts of the body from bolts and blades.

The inner layer is usually made of multiple layers of cloth or leather, quilted and padded with coarse hair or fur.  Another variant includes metal or bone beads to dull glancing blades.  Those with more to spend often prefer wraps of interwoven layers of Saryet silk, which is both lighter and tougher.  Outer armor is often a vest or larger suit of scale made from metal, horn, or leather.  A cheaper alternative is animal hides, either raw or cured.  The inner bark of the Yeske tree can be woven into a tough cuirass much more flexible than one would assume wooden armor could be.  Some warriors wear metal 'pectorals,' plates worn on the chest (and sometimes back), or full breastplates that cover the sides and shoulders as well.  Well-equipped Iskite warriors wear lamellar cuirasses and leggings made from iron lames (the rectangular plates in lamellar armor) woven onto a leather backing.

Helmets are a necessity among proper warriors.  Even the Gheen, if armored with nothing else, wear a metal, hide, or yeske cap strapped tightly to the head.  Loose-hanging shrouds and aventails are not popular, but many helmets have neck and side protection in the form of flaps or panels secured with a chin or neck strap.  Some helmets have face protection as well, ranging from a 'nasal' made from a bone or metal spike to a metal mask meant to both protect and frighten.  Visored helmets are a fairly new invention, mostly restricted to the Iskites.  The Iskites in general are known for highly elaborate metal helms with articulated throat-protectors, engraved faceplates, lamellar 'hackle-sleeves' on the back of the neck, and headdresses of dyed hair or plumage.

Shields are another common defensive item.  Even warriors who favor a two-handed weapon often carry a shield in order to cover themselves from missile fire as they advance on an enemy.  Most shields are round, as to not catch on vegetation or obstacles, but square, rectangular, and oval shields can also be found occasionally.  Hide-covered wood is the most common shield composition.  Wealthier warriors may have shields edged or faced with copper or iron, though all-metal shields are rare simply because of their weight.

Festivals

In the spirit of the current topic (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?70817), I've been working on detailing a few of the major festivals of the Clockwork Jungle.  I had hoped to post one for each race, but I don't quite have 4 yet and the fortnight is almost half over!  Instead, I have two, detailing a Gheen coronation ceremony and what might be called the "Iskite Olympics."

Ayroyeetal

A tal is an irregular festival among the Gheen, meaning one that is tied to an event rather than a specific day.  In the case of the Ayroyeetal, the event is of supreme importance to most dreys '" the coronation of a new Queen.

Sometimes, the death of a Queen necessitates an Ayroyeetal, but more often Queens 'retire' from rulership.  As a spiritual leader, the Queen must participate fully in the drey's religious rites, almost all of which are celebratory in nature.  In other words, a Queen must retain at least some level of physical resilience to be able to handle her year-round duties, duties that become more difficult with age.  It must be remembered that while Gheen monarchs may wield power in their family and drey, this power comes more from their place in the family and their personal charisma rather than their position as Queen.  'Retiring' Queens usually continue to exert great influence over their successor and the whole family, so very little is lost by choosing to relinquish the throne early.

Because the Queen's primary role is to act as the drey's intermediary to the gods, the foremost purpose of the Ayroyeetal is to introduce the new Queen to the gods and assure them that the favors of the Gheen will continue to reach them through this new conduit.  Ayroyeetal literally means 'new skin festival,' because  the Gheen seek to prove to the gods that this is the same blood, the same family, the same Gheen, albeit in the skin of the daughter instead of the mother.

The Ayroyeetal is a two-day ceremony that begins with the 'call to celebration' with flutes and bells.  The gathered residents of the drey bring food they have prepared for the occasion and alternate between communal feasting and singing.  Many villages have specific delicacies that are expected to be served at an Ayroyeetal, and these vary considerably from region to region.  In some cases, these dishes are served at no other time, making them a rare treat indeed.  Paper lanterns (white, never dyed) are hung from every available platform and branch within the drey.  Unusually, the Gheen do not dress colorfully for this festival, for fear of distracting the gods from their new Queen.  The residents of the drey wear drab clothes (some of which have been unused since the last Ayroyeetal) and abstain from jewelry.  If their colors are muted, however, the celebrations themselves are not, and the festivities continue until nightfall.

They are joined in this celebration by the old Queen.  If she is dead, the guest of honor is instead the previous Queen's plastered skull (it is the Gheen tradition to allow scavengers to pick clean the bones of the dead, remove the bare skull, cover it in plaster to resemble the face of the dead, decorate it with pigments and gemstones, and then keep it on a shelf).  This can pose a problem if the Queen is recently dead, for the body will not have had enough time to decay down to bare bone.  The Gheen solve this by manually stripping the dead skull of flesh, sometimes with the help of a bowl full of maggots, and 'temporarily' plastering it until a more permanent process can be applied at the conclusion of the festivites.  The skull is treated as if it were the old Queen herself '" her fellows sit her at the head of the table, heap honors upon her, and provide her with food and drink.

The upcoming Queen is conspicuously absent during these festivities.  She busies herself with memorizing the many songs she will have to sing in the coming coronation, and spends the day in isolation.  When night falls, she retires to the dwelling of the hemomancer (Red Gheen: yolsaraya, literally 'blood conjurer'), who aids her in communing with the spirits of her ancestors dwelling in her veins.  This consultation lasts all night.  Just before dawn, the old Queen (or her skull) is brought in.  If the old Queen is living, she spills her blood into a bowl, and the new Queen paints her face with it.  If the old Queen is dead, the skull is de-plastered, split into two pieces, and worn by the new Queen as a mask.

The new Queen emerges with the dawn to meet her gathered subjects.  On a platform is placed all of the drey's idols, physical vessels that the gods are said to inhabit when invited by the Gheen to their religious festivals.  The new Queen sings a song imploring the gods to accept their hospitality, addressing herself by her predecessor's name.  She places offerings of food before them, and wets their lips with liquor.  In a few Gheen dreys, the sacrifice of a sentient being (usually a Gheen who has chosen to give himself up for the gods) is done at this point as well.  When this ceremony is complete, the new Queen washes the blood off her face (or removes the skull mask, as the case may be) and sings to the gods that nothing has changed '" the daughter is the mother, the new Queen is the old, and the drey will never forget their hospitality to the gods.  The assembled population begins their coronation songs and a second day of merriment is begun with the new Queen to lead them.

Sesses eng Salej

No day in the Iskite ritual calendar is more highly anticipated than the Sesses eng Salej, yet it is often the only festival a village has that is not fixed to a specific date in the Iskite ritual calendar.  Its critical importance to the cohesion, identity, and survival of the community requires that its placement be as auspicious as possible, so a village's astronomers and priests collaborate closely to determine a date for the Sesses eng Salej that will ensure the maximum favor of the powers of heaven and earth.  Typically, this date lies within the Red Season (the most auspicious of seasons and the beginning of the new year), but exceptional circumstances and portents may place it anywhere within the ritual year.

Literally, Sesses eng Salej means 'duty of females.'  At its core, the week-long festival is a competition between the village's eligible adult females to be chosen to bear an egg of the yearly quota, as set by the village's Grandmasters.  The week, however, is also a time of celebration and feasting that is otherwise relatively uncommon in traditional Iskite culture, in which all participate.  Like sporting events throughout Earth's history, it is used as an opportunity '" some would say excuse '" to turn oneself from weighty to trivial matters and enjoy being a spectator.

An 'eligible female' is any Iskite master (that is, someone who has completed their '˜flower-work' and is considered an adult) who is in good standing with the community.  Though an individual may be physically old enough to have children, this is not permitted until the flower-work is completed and she is accepted by her trade and village as a full member of society.  Any eligible female may have her name added to the rolls of competitors.

The actual content of the competitions varies considerably from village to village.  In general, the competitions are a mix of five kinds of events:

Athletic contests, including foot races, jumping, and tree-climbing*Martial contests, including wrestling,

shlak (an Iskite martial art), staff-fighting, javelin-throwing, and archery (often with crossbows rather than bows)*Gaming contests, including a wide variety of strategy games (think chess, not checkers) such as cogsmarch, cat's paw, and prince's gambit (originally an Umbril game)*Performance contests, including music (always with an instrument, never singing), dance, and poetry*Scholarly contests, including competitive mathematics and geometry, recitation (of important Iskite philosophical and scholarly texts), and calligraphy[/list]
Villages do not use all these events.  If all the listed events were performed, the Sesses eng Salej would never fit into a week.  The point is to find the 'whole measure of a person,' testing their physical and mental abilities against their peers to 'objectively' establish who is most deserving of the honor of carrying on the life of the community.  Though the Iskites do not have any conception of evolution or genetics, they do believe that strong parents (that is, mentally and physically strong) beget strong children, and that strong children are the foundation of a strong society.  Additionally, because there is a limited quota of children that the Grandmasters allow to be born, the question of who has the privilege of begetting them can only be fairly solved by competition.

The Sesses eng Salej is opened on a serious note.  The competitors are sworn to honesty before the grandmasters and the gods, on penalty of exile (which is indeed carried out if cheating is discovered).  The entire population of the village, aside from those on essential duties (guards and hatchery tenders), participates in a mass prayer that lasts for hours.  During this time, the village priests make sacrifices and sacred incantations to secure divine favor for the coming events.

The competitions that follow are always very well-attended.  Pupils, masters, and grandmasters alike take eager interest in the festivities.  Each competitor is identified by a set of colored plumes on their hackles, and spectators often sport the colors of their friends, masters, and fellow artisans to show support.  Total silence is expected when events are in progress, but as soon as a victor is declared in an event the village resounds in shouting, whistling, and tongue-clicking.  The competitors are kept sequestered from the general population during this time; while they endure special rations and constant meditation and purification ceremonies, the rest of the village indulges in daily feasts.

Though only females can be actual competitors, much of the day's activity involves unofficial contests among males, typically mirroring the official events.  Some villages have small prizes for the males as well, though usually these are provided by generous individuals rather than the village grandmasters.  Spectators of these events are free to make as much noise as they like, and male contests tend to be much more free-form and jovial.

The festival ends with the selection of the 'honored victor' (the female who performed best overall) and the 'roll of privilege' (the females, including the victor, who did well enough to be included in the quota), who are all crowned with flower wreaths by the children of the village.  The Sesses eng Salej has its roots in ancient sporting traditions, long before it became a means to select a village's mating females, and in those days the victor was traditionally crowned with a golden snout-plate (an Iskite 'crown' that rests on the face between the eyes and nose) and treated like a monarch for the entire day '" even the village's lord would bow to her.  Though this tradition was discouraged by the Grand Authority during the Age of Prophets, some villages continue a similar tradition in which the victor is treated as something like royalty.  Some of these even address her as lia (the Iskite pronunciation of reeya, which is the Gheen word for 'queen'), in a strange homage to (and mockery of) Gheen nobility.

Typically, the winners receive no material prizes, but to be chosen is a great honor in Iskite society.  An honored victor is often referred to as such ever after (e.g. 'Honorable Ssewa of Iswess' or 'Ssewa, Victor of Iswess').  All those on the roll, of course, are officially allowed and directed to find a mate, something which they have one year to do.  Failure to do this within a year forfeits the privilege, and if a female wishes to bear an egg, she will have to compete again.  Males are keen to court the new winners, for it is nearly as great an honor to be chosen by a successful competitor as it is to actually be one.

The standing stone Szalks are interesting. Their evolution reflects the development of real-world culture a great deal. Do you work much with anthropology, history, or sociology as a hobby?

The discussion and honorable position of poison in this society was interesting.

Considering the high stakes of the Iskite Games (egg bearing) I am surprised that the mood is so light hearted. Isn't the prize a big deal? Shouldn't the participants be more cut-throat and nasty- especially bitter ones who never win? What is the place of the never-winners in society? Arent' they looked down on? Do they not at least suffer a sense of inferiority?

Quote from: Light DragonThe standing stone Szalks are interesting. Their evolution reflects the development of real-world culture a great deal. Do you work much with anthropology, history, or sociology as a hobby?

Considering the high stakes of the Iskite Games (egg bearing) I am surprised that the mood is so light hearted. Isn't the prize a big deal? Shouldn't the participants be more cut-throat and nasty- especially bitter ones who never win? What is the place of the never-winners in society? Arent' they looked down on? Do they not at least suffer a sense of inferiority?[/quote]
The mood is mostly light-hearted for the spectators - for the actual competitors, it is a really big deal.  It has to be kept in mind, however, that one of the reasons someone might want to have children is to have a family of their own, and the Iskites can't have that - when an egg is laid, it is turned over to the community hatchery and all records of its parentage are expunged.  An Iskite does not get to know their own children, so the tangible benefits of reproduction are fewer (certainly not nonexistent - but fewer).

There are certainly bad feelings among competitors, especially failed ones, and I probably should have spent some time on that in the description.  There is very little recourse for such a person, however.  Cheating in any way is punishable by exile, which in the deep jungle almost always means death.  Some females have managed to get in the good graces of the grandmasters who judge competitions, but in general the average Iskite doesn't have a lot of leverage on their village grandmasters.  Besides, "fixing" the outcome is likewise cheating, and even a grandmaster would be exiled for that.  I can certainly see a situation where blackmail could be an issue, however, if the competitor happened to know something they shouldn't.

The Iskite way is to take this all in stride.  If your place is at the bottom of the social hierarchy and you never win at the Sesses en Salej, you shouldn't feel bad.  That is your place and it is sinful to feel unhappy with your station in life.  The Analects teach that the greatest contentment is to be found in duty and obedience, and a female who openly acted hostile towards others because they beat her would be ridiculed or even subject to community censure.  Still, Iskites are far from emotionless, and even they can be simmering with resentment underneath a mask of humility.  One outlet for this is the path of the adventurer; a female Iskite who is unable to win at home may abandon the village and seek self-fulfillment some other way.  Perhaps she will even return one day, to show up all her old rivals with the skills she's learned - that is, if the grandmasters choose to let her compete after leaving the village.

QuoteSmith Cogs are hypothetical Cogs known only from a huge engraving on a wall deep in the underwater recesses of Teven. The wall depicts an immense vaulted room or cavern in which bipedal Cogs are bent over anvils and furnaces, engaging in what appears to be the manufacture of other Cogs. One figure holds what appears to be a Cog songbird in mid-song, but most are engaged in the production of bipedal Cogs that could either be Soldiers or other Smiths like themselves. No actual Smith Cog has ever been found. Some believe that they may be hidden away in the deepest recesses of Teven, at the base of the ziggurat where the passages are one with the dark, crushing depths of the Sea of Netai. Others believe that other ruins hold these creatures, ruins yet to be discovered within the Forest or completely submerged beneath the waters. The question that most wonder about is - who built the builders?

Lantern-bearers are a kind of Cog that dwells within Teven, dormant save for thirty-six days of the year, called 'Lantern Days' by the locals (The above-water portion of the ziggurat is inhabited, mostly by Umbril, and the settlement is part of the Netai Confederation). The city's giant steps are dotted with large stone fire-bowls. On Lantern Days, the spider-like Lantern-bearers skitter forth to light these fire-bowls with the flint-sparking mechanisms that make up their 'jaws.' The residents have learned to keep the fire-bowls well stocked with fuel, for if the Lantern-bearers find them empty, they proceed to use doors, furniture, clothing, or any other flammable belongings of the residents to accomplish their task (they will literally rip the clothes off your back if that's what's closest). Other than this use of 'local resources' when the fire-bowls are empty, the Cogs ignore the citizens totally. The citizens take advantage of the ample light by holding ceremonies, festivals, or outdoor meetings during these Lantern Nights. The Cogs do not tarry to enjoy the festivities - once they have lit their fires, they retreat into their dark lairs and wait, silently and motionlessly, for the next appointed day.
[/quote]
I really enjoyed the lantern-bearing cogs; they seem quite festive.

[ic=On the Confederation]Our contempt was our undoing.  No wall, nor bridge, nor any work made by ancient hands has ever approached what the Evne have wrought with blood and ink.  We have finally come to respect it, but they are only beginning to understand it '" they do not know what they have, and it may yet overwhelm them.
- Tzalang, Iskite Diplomat of the Right Orientation Alliance[/ic][ic=The Scourge]There are none so monstrous that they do not see the vaguest reflection of their own face in that of the grieving parent and the child in agony.  We speak around each other, but all beings are fluent in suffering.
- Kuzzun, Tahr Revolutionary[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/netaiborder.jpg)


The Netai Confederation is the present configuration of a truly ancient Umbril polity that has existed in this region since time immemorial.  It is an entity unlike any other '" a league of many villages bound together by ties of tradition and common interest instead of autocratic leadership, familial relation, or iron-clad discipline.  The Confederation has made one of the most isolated and forsaken places in the Forest into an enormous hub of trade, information, and travel, and has continued to grow and prosper in spite of the breathtaking intrigues, infighting, corruption, and conflict that often define Netai politics and even everyday life.  The Confederation is the product of both staunch Umbril traditionalism and revolutionizing outside influences, and though it is dominated by the Umbril it is one of the most pluralistic and cosmopolitan places in the Clockwork Jungle.
[note=Teven]Light Dragon brought up Teven, so I thought I'd throw out a little background on a entity I've mentioned a lot but haven't really posted much on.  Together, the Netai and the Black Circle encompass all the "cities" that exist in the world of the Clockwork Jungle (though the Netai's cities are much smaller, in some cases closer to the size of Forest communities than the behemoths of the Circle).  This also suits me because the local "area of interest" I'm working on borders the Netai and gets briefly mentioned in this post.[/note]
Early History[/b]

According to Netai Umbril tradition, the first settlements on the Sea of Netai (more traditionally 'The Indigo Sea,' or simply 'the Sea' to natives of the region) originated in distant antiquity.  It is widely recognized that a series of Umbril villages existed on the counter-clockwise shore of the Sea long before the Mosswaste existed.  Umbril, as anyone knows, subsist largely on decaying plant matter, and indeed the Evne-Umbril ('Indigo Umbril,' the distinct variety of the race that lives in and around the Netai region) remain the only ones of their kind to make meat a significant part of their diet.  It is unknown what exactly compelled these early ancestors to take up nets and spears, but over the centuries these few settlements became a loose network of fishing and trading communities scattered about the Sea's coast.

The Isles must have been discovered by these early traders and fishermen, but no significant settlements were built there.  They would only enter into the history of the Netai at the conclusion of the Age of Prophets, when the tragic quest of the Steel Siblings brought the Orange Horde to the shores of Netai.

The Netai Umbril had been in considerable decline through the Age of the Prophets.  Local mystics and oracles had fractured the Sea-wide community and petty rivalries had severely attenuated the trade that had brought prosperity to the region.  While the Evne bickered, the Peril grew in strength, and the expanse that was to become the Mosswaste was already encroaching on some villages.  Some prophets, along with their people, turned to worship of the Peril and served it even in life.

The so-called Steel Siblings (the Nevir-Umbril warlords Enti-Ven Famar and Thals-Tadun Nata) demanded their usual terms of the Umbril of the Netai, and in their disunited state the Netai Umbril had no means to resist.  The epics tell that the Horde seized the prophets, seers, scholars, and sorcerers, tied them to their treasures and manuscripts, and threw them into the sea off the Isle of Alacrity (later known as the Isle of Righteous Remuneration).  It was in the Isles that the most tragic episode of the Horde Saga occurred.  Thals-Tadun, secretly growing weary of their eternal war, conspired to remain behind while its comrade went ahead with the Horde.  A fisherman told Enti-Ven of the flight of Thals-Tadun, hoping for a reward.  Enti-Ven slew the fisherman for betraying its friend, and then proceeded to kill Thals-Tadun for betraying their cause.  Enti-Ven cursed the place where its closest friend had abandoned it, and '" in an unusual departure from his usual cold and methodical manner '" flew into a rage and had its followers burn every village it could find in a mad fury.

The Netai Umbril fled to the only place they would be safe.  Umbril from many villages came to the Isles on whatever boats they could find.  No vessels were left for the Horde to pursue them, and so Enti-Ven departed, never again to glimpse the waters of Netai.

Homeless and leaderless exiles, the Netai Umbril turned against each other, leading to the Vagrants' War that lasted for nearly a decade.  It was less a war than a period of prolonged, violent anarchy.  Eventually, two island kingdoms emerged, which came to be known simply as the Blue Principality and the Yellow Principality.  The Years of Two Crowns lasted for around 80 years, with both principalities fighting each other in an on-and-off manner for most of this time.  Finally, the Prince of the Blue, Vatav-Nel Oran, conquered his rival state and proclaimed himself 'Prince of the Green,' from the mixture of Yellow and Blue.

Vatav-Nel was, in many respects, the ultimate autocrat.  Fiendishly clever, boundlessly charismatic, and totally ruthless, it efficiently ruled through both adoration and fear, dividing its opponents and keeping any potential threats to its power well contained.  Its dynasty, known as the Oranids, ruled the Green Realm for a century.  The Oranids were not related to each other, as one expects of a typical 'dynasty;' in fact, most came to power by gaining the trust and then engineering the assassination of their predecessor.  As a result, the princes became increasingly paranoid and withdrawn, cloistered in their own world of intrigue, subversion, and political murder.

The Evne and the Aliens[/b]

It was during this period that the first aliens began settling in the Green Realm.  Vatav-Nel had dabbled with using Tahro slaves for its construction projects, but eventually decided they were not worth the trouble of controlling them and allowed them to settle freely on the shores of the Sea.  As the Mosswaste continued to expand along the coast, these Tahro began to migrate into the Isles.  Additionally, many peoples still lived nomadic existences, their villages having been destroyed by the Orange Horde generations before.  While the chaos of the Isles during the Vagrants' War and the Years of Two Crowns had not been attractive to immigrants, the stability of the Isles under the Oranids caused many aliens to seek refuge despite the political climate.

These aliens were treated poorly by the resident Umbril and exploited or ignored by the Oranids, and many immigrants built their own villages or settled more marginal islands that the Umbril had not cared to colonize.  As their numbers grew, so too did conflict between the Umbril and the aliens.  As the Oranid court schemed within the walls of Tiran Oran, alien villages were burned by Umbril mobs and riots erupted between alien and Umbril populations.  The violence culminated in the coming of the Scourge, a fungal plague that completely obliterated many alien communities.  Whole settlements died miserably under the eyes of the Umbril citizens; in some cities, the constant cries of agony prevented a single soul from sleeping.  Some survivors killed themselves after watching their families waste away; some of the doomed aliens painted their faces with the ashes of their loved ones and went berserk, murdering every Umbril they could get their hands on before they collapsed from the ravages of the Scourge or were killed by Umbril soldiers.

The Scourge Crisis[/b]

Relationships between the Umbril and the aliens up to this point had not been good, but the gruesome obliteration of entire communities sent a shudder of revulsion through the Evne citizenry from Anath to Var Umber.  Rumors spread that the Scourge was the work of the Prince itself, turning that revulsion into outrage at the unspeakable barbarity of such an act.  To assassinate a rival was one thing, but few Umbril could countenance wholesale genocide.  At first, many such opponents were learned men and philosophers who spoke out against the Prince in public and demanded change; as the Scourge spread, the common Umbril began to pay them heed.  This initial movement culminated with the delivery of a written petition to the Prince of the Green demanding its abdication, claiming that it had lost the respect of the people and had abandoned a basic level of civilized behavior necessary for leadership.

The Oranid Prince, Varan-Etun, had little experience with rulership outside of court intrigues.  Upon hearing of the petition, it ordered simply that all signatories '" and indeed, all dissenters anywhere in the realm '" be exiled.  Hundreds of outspoken scholars, philosophers, and orators were sent to the bleak Isle of Righteous Remuneration, where Enti-Ven had once killed the most learned and powerful of the sea's inhabitants.  The act only succeeded in creating a wave of sympathy for the exiles and their cause.  Despite the Prince's best efforts, the exiles were often able to sneak messages back to the other Isles in fishing boats, fanning the flames of discontent.  Deciding that the scholars were more trouble than they were worth even in exile, Varan-Etun secretly ordered a small fleet to travel to the Isle to kill them all.

The secret was found out, however, by a Tahr leader named Kuzzun.  Kuzzun had always feared that the Prince would one day seek to rid its archipelago of aliens altogether, and the coming of the Scourge seemed to confirm his worst nightmares.  Kuzzun sailed to the Isle of Righteous Remuneration ahead of the Prince's fleet.  He met with the leader of the exiles, the sage and natural philosopher Tiren-Vas, and together they agreed that the only way to resolve the situation was to unite against the Prince and dethrone it once and for all.  Tiren-Vas and the other head exiles swore that the aliens would be protected once the Prince was gone.

In the early morning fog, a flotilla of fishing boats approached the Oranid fleet undetected.  They had been stocked with wood and oil, and their pilots lit them as they drew near to the fleet.  A more disciplined crew might have been able to competently defend against the fire-ships, but the Oranid fleet had not had anyone to fight in decades and few had ever actually been in combat before.  The majority of the sailors panicked, sending ships crashing into each other as the burning boats set most of the fleet alight.  By nightfall, the mighty force had been all but annihilated.

The exiles returned triumphantly to the Isles and incited a popular rebellion of both Umbril and aliens against the Prince.  Many of the Prince's own soldiers defected and joined the rebels.  Within one week, the Prince's rule had collapsed and only Tiran Oran itself remained in his grasp.  Realizing it could not win, it escaped that night in a canopy skiff, and the next morning the demoralized guards surrendered Tiran Oran to the rebels.

Tiren-Vas, Kuzzun, and other Umbril and alien leaders met at Var Aban to decide on the nature of the new society.  After weeks of heated debate, the Treaty of Var Aban was signed, which provided for a voluntary 'Netai Confederation' in which aliens would be allowed autonomy and a certain level of political power within an Umbril-controlled government.  The Confederation's constituent islands and cities enjoy extensive self-rule and send representatives to the Confederation's College of Envoys, the popular deliberative body of the Confederation government.

The Netai Today[/b]

So it was that the Green Realm was succeeded by the Netai Confederation, which is now entering its 30th year of existence (30 CY, 'Confederation Year,' equivalent to EVP 214).  Its birth has been fraught with peril: in that short period of time, it has fought no fewer than five wars , primarily with the deposed Oranids (under the leadership of Varan-Etun and its 'successor') and an aggressive coalition of Iskite colonies along the Netai's counter-clockwise coast known as the Right Orientation Alliance.

As of the fifth and most recent of the Netai Wars (which ended only a year before the present), the Confederation has secured itself a place as the pre-eminent power in the region.  The Right Orientation Alliance officially dissolved itself as a term of its capitulation in the Fifth Netai War, though its constituent villages still form a significant military and political force opposed to Confederation hegemony.  Though the resurgent Oranid Prince captured the Isles of Solace and the city of Meja during the Fourth Netai War, much of the island chain was recaptured by the Confederation following the Alliance's recent defeat.  The 'New Green Realm' encompasses little more than Meja itself and suffers under a nearly continuous blockade.

The isles of the Confederation have gradually grown into important links in the Outlands-Circle Route, a trade route that runs from the Grove of Tranquility to the Pass of Thorns.  This trade, along with the defeat of the Alliance, has attracted the attention of the formidable and ancient Iskite villages of Scalemount.  Some Scalemount Iskites fought for the Alliance during the recent war, and the villages of the Sekah (the 'borderland' between Scalemount proper and the Netai, composed of Watzash, Ungszesh, and the Iswessan salient of the Chromatic Plain) are largely hostile towards the Evne and other Confederation peoples.

As ever, the political situation in the Confederation is precarious, though Umbril-alien relations have seldom been better in its history.  Paradoxically, the dissolution of the Right Orientation Alliance may have weakened the state; the existence of the Alliance as a credible threat helped mask internal divisions between the Confederation's constituent entities, and quarrels over the extent of local autonomy have resurfaced following the end of the Fifth Netai War.  Particularly unhelpful has been the growth of powerful internal organizations with political interests, including alien groups like the Arbalesters' League, militant Indigo Chapters (e.g. Iron Thistle, Sons of Vao, Crown of Thorns), and subversive cults like the Deadscale Order (which doesn't really have 'political interests' so much as pseudo-anarchist religious fanaticism).

[spoiler=Major Cities and Locations in the Netai]
Andar
'The City of Wandering Paths' was originally the seat of the Prince of the Blue during the Years of Two Crowns.  It served as Vatav-Nel's capital until the construction of Tiran Oran was complete.  The city is now the largest in the Confederation, sitting atop a long row of sea cliffs on the Isle of Subtle Enlightenment.  Many different narrow paths wind down the Cliffside, designed long ago as an allegorical representation of the Winnowing, the process of progressing into the afterlife (as understood by the Evne-Umbril, whose alien-influenced religious practices are somewhat different from the Umbril norm).  Andar is the home of the College of Seekers and the Grand Conservatory, where the Conservator presides over the tradition and law of the Confederation.  It is, in essence, the 'second capital' of the Confederation, and the Princes have palaces here which they usually spend part of the year.  Andar is certainly the capital in a religious sense, and the largest temples of the Confederation are here.  Unlike Var Aban, Andar has few alien residents, no more than 10%.

Inembran
'The City of Masts' actually occupies two adjacent islands in the Scarlet Necklace.  The bridge runs over a shallow strait between them.  Built solidly of limestone blocks, the bridge itself supports a number of buildings, and is in fact the primary market square of the city.  Inembran is the site of the Netai's most naturally blessed port, a deep and well-sheltered cove accessible only through a channel flanked by high rocks.  The city's choice to support the Confederation was crucial to their victory in the First Netai War, as the Confederation fleet could operate from there with little fear of counterattack by sea.  Since then, Inembran has retained the largest portion of the Confederation fleet and is a bustling merchant port as well.  Unusually, it has been the site of a small group of Gheen from the Chalicewood who fled there during the Age of the Prophets, when most of the Netai isles were totally uninhabited.  These ancient families still live in the city's smaller island, though some families were extinguished totally by the Scourge.  Inembran has the only sizeable Gheen presence of any Netai city or island, and modest populations of other aliens as well, making it nearly as cosmopolitan as Var Aban itself.

 Isle of Righteous Remuneration
Though small and rather barren, this steep-sided rocky isle is notable for its place in Netai history.  It is also known as the Isle of Alacrity, the Rock of Exile, the Scholar's Rest, and the Isle of Fate.  Here, the Steel Siblings threw the Prophets into the sea with their oracles and treasures, and the scholars and philosophers who objected to the Prince of the Green were exiled.  The burnt wrecks of the ill-fated fleet sent to execute the exiles can still be seen perched on reefs from the eastern shore.  There are no villages here, but the isle is dotted with hermitages, monasteries, and shrines, whose few devoted residents scrape an austere existence from the island.  It is rumored that the treasures of the Prophets lie somewhere near the island, waiting to be discovered.

Kalathoon
A 'protectorate' of the Confederation, Kalathoon is an island settled by Tahro, who still make up 80% of the population.  Though they pay fealty to the Confederation and supply the Isle Militia with warriors in times of conflict, they are permitted to govern themselves.  The island is known as the 'Isle of Baleful Music' by the Umbril, who did not settle the island originally because of its peculiar rock formations.  The island's wind-carved spires fill the island with hollow, haunting melodies whenever the wind is high.  Umbril generally find the 'music' extremely grating, while the Tahro seem to enjoy it and attach some spiritual significance to the island.  The Tahro residents welcome visitors, but trade on the isle is not very brisk, as the Tahro are quite self-sufficient.

Meja
A minor but still significant city in the Isles of Solace during the years of the Green Realm, Meja was captured by forces loyal to the exiled Oranids during the Fourth Netai War.  It was briefly the capital of the Yellow Principality during the Years of Two Crowns.  Now, the city struggles under a Confederation blockade; the Confederation has been in possession of some of the Isles of Solace since the last Netai War, and is gradually tightening the noose on Meja by interrupting its trade and raiding surrounding villages and ports.  The Prince of the Green, Atuls-Yan Oran, still reigns here, and retains control over the dubiously loyal Umbril population with the help of alien mercenaries.  Meja sits on the inner slopes of an ancient crater which descends to the sea on one side, making it an incredibly strong defensive position.

Teven
'The Venerable City' takes its name not because of the city's own great age '" it was only settled in the early years of the Green Realm '" but from the ground it rests on.  Its isle (also called Teven) is not an isle at all, but the very top of a truly immense five-sided ziggurat-like structure, another ruin from a distant age.  Many ruins lie beneath the Sea, but Teven is one of the few structures that actually breaches the surface.  The city and the island are one and the same, and the city is divided into 'steps' from the Lighthouse Step at the top to the Wayfarer's Step at the bottom, where the city's ports are located.  Numerous rooms and halls within the ruin have been reclaimed, and much of the city is indoors.  There are deeper reaches of the ruin, however, that have never been breached, and most of the structure is under the surface of the water, likely riddled with drowned halls that no citizen of Teven will ever see.  Perhaps Teven's most interesting features are its Cogs.  On certain days of the calendar, Cog 'lantern-bearers' issue forth from the innermost chambers of the ruin with oil lamps and light bronze fire-bowls throughout the ruin.  The city has a designated officer who keeps the fire-bowls stocked with fuel, because if they are not well-stocked the Cogs proceed to use doors, furniture, or any other flammable belongings of the residents to accomplish their task.  Other than this use of 'local resources' when the fire-bowls are empty, the Cogs ignore the citizens totally.  The citizens take advantage of the ample light by holding ceremonies, festivals, or outdoor meetings during these Lantern Nights.

Tiran Imar (Tiran Oran)
The 'Fortress of Oran' on the Isle of Redoubts was originally built by Vatav-Nel as a fortified palace where he could keep the court and apparatus of state under close watch.  It was the capital of the Green Realm until its fall.  After the First Netai War, it was renamed Tiran Imar (the Violet Fortress).  It was then largely uninhabited until the middle of the Third Netai War, when the newly-created Smokefleet reclaimed the fortress and made it their headquarters and main barracks.  Most civilians who live on the island are in some way affiliated with the Smokefleet, providing food, craftsmanship, or labor to the local military.

Vanam Dur
'The City of Coral and Steam' has undergone many changes from its days under the Oranids, under which it was more commonly known as 'The City of Limitless Anguish.'  The settlement of Vanam Dur was founded by a regional overseer during the reign of Vatav-Nel as a private domain of luxury; the archipelago it lies on, called the Scarlet Necklace, has natural hot springs and a bright blue lagoon that sparkles with bright coral and shells.  Vatav-Nel became suspicious of the overseer and eventually had it murdered, and the isle passed to the Prince of the Green, who had little use for luxury.  It was transformed into an alien slave colony, and was mined for coral and stone.  Vatav-Nel eventually terminated the slave project and cleared the archipelago of residents, but its successors used the largest island as a place where prisoners were discreetly worked to death far from the prying eyes of the court.  The psychopathic Ineven-Nel Oran built the city as a sort of combination penal colony and social experiment, in which various criminals, luckless courtiers, and the urban poor were sent and unleashed upon each other without enough resources to go around.  Eventually it was decided that the city was a blight on the Principality, in part because it was a breeding ground for pirates, and later Oranids conducted culling raids that decimated the population and turned the city into a ghost town (literally '" the city was at one point almost wrested from Oranid control by the Peril after a particularly bold plot by a Saffronite sect).  One of the first major projects of the Confederation during the period of consolidation after the Third Netai War was the rebuilding of Vanam Dur into a proper city, a project which is still ongoing.  Some still consider the city to be 'tainted ground,' and growth is slow despite the area's natural beauty, which has remained largely untarnished despite all the ugliness that infested it for so long.

Var Aban
One of the richer and more populous settlements of the Netai during the years of the Green Realm, Var Aban was a hotbed of anti-Oranid sentiment and became the capital of the Confederation in YC 2.  It has one of the highest proportions of aliens among the cities of the Confederation, about 40%.  The city is also known as the 'City of Two Ports' because it sits on a narrow isthmus and actually has a port on each side of the island.  Var Aban is home to the Twin Palace, the primary residence of the Prince of the Yellow and Prince of the Blue; the Sublime Assembly, where the College of Envoys meets; and the Coronal Tower, the residence and office of the Coronet of Aliens.  The skyline is dominated by these buildings as well as the Gate of Unity and Strength, a great buttressed arch built after the Third Netai War to commemorate the founding of the Confederation.  The city is equally well known for the smell of fermented fish paste that hovers in the air, for it is the source of this strong-smelling product so beloved to the Evne.

Var Umber
Nestled within the White Forest, an archipelago of thousands and thousands of steep-sided limestone islets, is the city of Var Umber.  It is also known as 'The Heart of the Maze' and 'The City of Deep Reverence.' Thanks to its isolation and strategic position, Var Umber was frequently independent until the later Years of the Two Crowns, when it was defeated by the Prince of the Yellow.  Var Umber developed its own unique culture during this period, with the citizens largely worshipping an aquatic deity called 'The Elder Serpent.'  During the reign of Vatav-Nel, an immense sea monster appeared before the city, claiming that it was the very same Elder Serpent and had been awakened by their worship.  Though part of the Green Realm, Var Umber was largely left to rule itself, as the Princes of the Green feared what would happen if they sent a fleet up against Var Umber's supernatural protector.  In YC -21, the Elder Serpent retreated into a grotto and became dormant, but by this time the Oranids were too concerned with political intrigue and civil unrest to bother with the Heart of the Maze.  Only in YC 28 (two years ago) did the Serpent re-emerge, having shed its skin and now calling itself Nurels-Aumajen ('Sublime and Munificent Mentor').  Since its reawakening the Serpent has taken on more of an advisory role in the city's government, and Var Umber is a full and participating member of the Confederation.

Zalssasth
The largest settlement in the Anath archipelago, Zalssasth was originally an Iskite village, though it was under the dominion of the Green Realm.  The fall of the last Prince of the Green spurred the Right Orientation Alliance to conquer Anath and 'liberate' Zalssasth and other villages in the Second Netai War, but in YC 11 the village fell to Confederation forces again.  The Confederation attempted to fortify the region by settling more Umbril in the area, and Zalssasth now has around 40% each of Umbril and Iskites.  This is often a source of conflict, but the town is also an important trade port and enjoys the same rights as any other in the Confederation government.  The Umbril, who have difficulty pronouncing 'Zalssasth,' refer to the city as Valsath.[/spoiler]

[ic=The Ship of the Dead]Beware the ship of tattered sail,
That rows in dreadful silence on,
That moves with ease into the gale,
And vanishes with break of dawn.
- Evne mariner's poem, traditional[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/ghostshipborder.jpg)

[/b][/size]

 Since the days when the Evne-Umbril first cast their nets in the waters of the Sea of Indigo, they have told tales of a dreadful ship that stalks the sea, searching for unwary fishermen to snap up.  It is a vessel of the very Peril itself, the Saffron Moss, crewed by Abominations.  The way the wind blows means nothing to this dread ship, for the Breath cannot touch it '" it moves as it pleases, even against the wind, propelled by an unseen force that fills its ragged sails at all times.

The legend of the Perilous Ship is one that is well-known throughout the Netai.  Nobody can say from where the legend derives, but in the present day it is known not only by the Evne, but all the peoples that call the Netai's isles and coastlines home.  The sea borders the Mosswaste itself, so it is perhaps unsurprising that fear of the Peril and fear of the open sea have combined into a single dreaded entity.  To dismiss it entirely as a myth, however, could be a grave mistake.  The Peril is intelligent and clever, its Abominations legion '" why couldn't it do such a thing, if it had purpose?  And how else does one explain the sightings of ships over the years that pass in the distance over becalmed waters as if a gale were at their backs?

The form taken by the Perilous Ship has changed throughout the generations, reflecting the common types of ships in use at the time.  Modern versions of the story usually describe it as an old war-galley with a weathered and ragged appearance.  Some say it has tattered sails that don't seem like they should be able to hold wind at all, while others omit this detail.  Some have claimed that it carries a bright saffron banner, while others say the sails are saffron, and still others swear that it has no sails or pennants at all, yet moves with the phantom wind regardless.  The varying reports cause some to doubt the entire story, but others maintain that there may well be multiple such ships (for if the Peril could crew one, why not another?).

Accounts also vary as to what exactly the purpose of the ship is.  It is widely blamed whenever a vessel disappears without a trace, sometimes in jest and sometimes with grave seriousness.  Some say that sighting the ship is an omen of disaster, and it has been claimed the ship was seen by the Confederation fleet at White Feather Bay just before their crushing defeat during the Second Netai War.

Like all legends, this one has a basis in fact.  The Saffron Moss has occupied the outwise shore of the Sea of Netai since the Age of Prophets, and crews that run aground there are often quickly snapped up by its servants.  Usually, they do not stray beyond that, though a particular incident from the years of the Oranids is still remembered with great fear.

The Blight of Vanam Dur[/b]

In the years of the later Oranids, the city of Vanam Dur was less a city than a half-empty ruin.  Populated by exiles, pirates, and other people unwanted in Evne society, it was subject to periodic reprisals by the Oranid military.  These 'terror raids,' made primarily to disrupt society and any attempts at piracy or trade in stolen goods, were conducted every year (and sometimes more than once a year) without any warning.  At first, the bandit-kings of the city put up some resistance, but their power was soon broken by repeated assaults from the far better trained and equipped Oranid forces.  The Oranid commanders, finding that it was good practice for an army that seldom had anyone else to fight, purposefully delayed a permanent occupation of the city to retain the 'services' of its hapless people as training tools (or, more accurately, targets).

As the population dwindled to a few hundred frightened and sickly souls hiding in ruins and grottoes, further raids became rather pointless.  The corpses of the dead and the horrible living conditions of the locals contributed to recurring plagues that dissuaded the Oranid army from returning in force.  Certainly the Princes of the Green had no interest in resettling the isle; Tiran Oran was already trapped within a sphere of decadence and intrigue that would lead to the final rebellion, and its rulers forgot all about Vanam Dur.

Thus, when a group of meek-looking Evne cultists calling themselves the 'Redeemers' came to Tiran Oran asking for permission to build a hermitage in Vanam Dur, the Prince saw no reason to refuse their request.  Why they wished this, the Prince did not know, but at the very least it would lead to an entertaining story of a gaggle of naïve hermits being eaten by the 'ghosts' of the City of Limitless Anguish.  The Redeemers thanked the Prince for its wisdom and departed for the isle.

The Redeemers had a very different plan in mind, for they were Saffronites, the boldest and most ambitious of their kind the Netai has ever known.  They bore the fruit of the Saffron Moss to Vanam Dur, and weapons enough to defend themselves with.  Like the raiders before them, they slaughtered any local they could get their hands on, but then purposefully infested them and began to raise an army of the blighted dead.  With no communication between Vanam Dur and the outside world, they had free reign over the island, and soon hundreds of Abominations roamed over an isle already dotted with orange patches of the Peril.

It was fate that brought a merchant vessel of Inembran to this corner of the Scarlet Necklace.  Having been blown near the isle by heavy winds, the captain feared his ship would be taken by pirates, but was shocked to discover that pirates were no longer what infested Vanam Dur.  He informed the Prince, who was compelled to act '" mere bandits were one thing, but the Peril could not be allowed to grow upon the isles themselves.  A bloody invasion followed, and the Peril's servants were only defeated with great difficulty and loss.  Finally, however, the horde was stilled, and the cultists seized and imprisoned.  They were taken to Andar and burned alive in a public ceremony, but some died insisting that a few of their comrades yet lived and would avenge their deaths.  The isle itself took years to purge of every last trace of the Peril, but was finally declared cleansed just one year before the beginning of the Scourge Crisis.

Officially, there were no survivors among the cultists or their Abominations.  Rumors, however, hold that the words of the dying cultists were true, and that some did indeed escape on an old pirate vessel with a host of Abominations, and even now continue to prey upon lone ships in the night.

The Saffron Flyer[/b]

Since the introduction of the ''khauta'' to the region, the myth has also gained another variant '" that of a Perilous Ship that is not a galley at all, but a Smokeship.  It is unclear where the Peril would acquire or how it would use such a thing, but a few Netai flyers claim to have seen flying vessels following them in the pre-dawn mist, or moving rapidly against the wind in a way that no khauta can.  As khautas have been known to occasionally wreck within or near the Mosswaste, perhaps there is some potential for this to be true as well'¦

Varan-Etun is said to be assassinated (or so it is believe), is this true or to be left ambiguous (up to the GM)? Did he perhaps turn into a telavai?

Where does the name of the Right Orientation Alliance come from? Does it have any special significance? Political maybe?

I guess more information on the Third, Fourth and Fifth Netai Wars would be nice, but I guess it is just a matter of time. Was Right Orientation Alliance destroyed in the Third Netai War?

Quote from: 14 VirtuesFor reference, the 14 virtues are divided into Virtues of the Self, meaning things cultivated towards one's self, and Virtues of the Other, right attitudes and obligations towards other people.  They tend to mirror each other - for instance, orientation is knowing your place in the world, while humility is the practice of demonstrating that you know your place in the world to others.  Tranquility is being unperturbed by shallow, silly, distracting, or meaningless things, while gravity is the ability to express yourself to others in a way that demonstrates your seriousness and freedom from such trivialities.  The "good Iskite" is expected to demonstrate all of these qualities.

[table=Virtues of the Self]
[tr][th]English[/th][th]LT[/th][/tr]
[tr][td]Knowledge[/td][td]ishengo[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Industry[/td][td]szikul[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Orientation[/td][td]ilassk[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Discipline[/td][td]jungesh[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Courage[/td][td]szusse[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Tranquility[/td][td]as†"enge[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Respect[/td][td]asskuw[/td][/tr]
[/table]
[table=Virtues of the Other]
[tr][th]English[/th][th]LT[/th][/tr]
[tr][td]Wisdom[/td][td]unungss[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Excellence[/td][td]kazij[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Humility[/td][td]ssewa[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Honesty[/td][td]tzutze[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Duty[/td][td]salej[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Gravity[/td][td]esthak[/td][/tr]
[tr][td]Solidarity[/td][td]ungsij[/td][/tr]
[/table][/spoiler]

The ROA (the Iskites wouldn't use that abbreviation, but it works for us) was only involved in the second, third, and fifth Netai Wars, after which it was forcibly disbanded.  That's only one year before the "current game date," EVP 214, so it is by no means ancient history.  There are plenty of Iskites who want to reconstitute it, but to do so would basically be an act of war, and the Iskite villages of Watzash - having just been defeated last year - are not yet in a position to start another war.  Eventually, however, there will almost certainly be a Sixth Netai War between the Confederation and some kind of resurrected ROA unless tensions between the Sekah ("borderland") Iskites and and Confederation can be calmed.  I can definitely see that as a more social and intrigue-oriented adventure in which the PCs take the role of diplomats or mediators - or maybe they want the war, and try to inflame tensions instead.

I've been messing around with GIMP!  Unfortunately, just a bit of messing around has shown me just how deficient I am at this.  That aside, however, I used this helpful tutorial (http://forum.cartographersguild.com/showthread.php?t=6722) designed for making simple maps, and banged out a new version of the regional map in about an hour.  Yes, I know, it's not really any new material, just a gussied up version of the old map, but being able to make something - anything at all - that looks halfway decent makes me happy.  My ultimate goal is to make detailed "regional maps" that have details like terrain and settlements in them, because the world map will always be too large to show such things (it's about 3,000 miles across).  Perhaps this is the first step towards that goal.

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/cjmap.png)

And no, the known world isn't actually a seven sided shape, despite what the Iskites may tell you.  I've got a geometric theme, though, and I'm sticking with it!

[ic=A Riddle of the Vinetrough]What eats the world over, but is never sated?[/ic]
(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/carnivory.jpg)

[/b][/size]
For residents of Earth, carnivorous plants are rare and interesting botanical curiosities.  Venus flytraps are a danger to flies, but not much else, and they are in a fairly select group of plants that are adapted for catching and killing prey.

In the Clockwork Jungle, carnivorousness among plant life is much more common.  Perhaps 10-20% of all plants, including many species of trees, are in some way carnivorous.  Like rainforests on Earth, much of the Forest suffers from poor soil, for the ever-present rain constantly leaches nutrients from the ground.  The consumption of animal matter is a method by which many plants deal with this.

Most consume only small creatures '" insects, lizards, and birds '" but some plants feed off larger game and can pose a real threat to travelers, especially those who travel alone.  No carnivorous plant in the Forest is truly intelligent as we would define the term, though those who believe in the sentience or divinity of the Forest itself believe that all plants share in that great consciousness.  Despite their mindlessness, these plants are killing machines par excellence, whose only function is to catch prey and turn it into energy.

Alak-veil

Also known as the False Alak and the Spiny Bed, the Alak-veil is a parasitic and carnivorous plant that grows around the trunks of tall trees, especially the family of high forest trees known as Alaks (Alaks are quite common '" the Red Depths, a region of the Forest, derives its name from the red-tinted leaves of the Fiery Alak).  The Alak-veil begins its life as a vine, but as it grows it begins to cover the tree in stems that eventually merge together into an extra layer of 'bark' around the tree.  This bark bears a very close resemblance to the papery bark of the Alak, making it difficult to tell the difference with a casual glance.  Initially, the Alak-veil taps the tree's own sap for sustenance (it has no leaves of its own), but as it matures it requires more food than can be procured this way without killing its host.  A mature Alak-veil grows a cluster of what appear to be large flower buds at the base of the host tree; these vary widely in shape and color (and a single plant may have several differently colored and shaped flowers) and are very hard to identify as such, but are always odorless.

Putting pressure on the upper reaches of an Alak-veil (usually around 50 or so feet from the ground) causes it to exude a slimy, grease-like sap that makes it virtually impossible to hang on to the bark.  At the same time, its 'flowers' open up and bloom, revealing that they are filled with tough, woody thorns, some of which are more than four feet long.  The hapless climber slips and falls, and if the fall does not kill him, the bristling spikes below probably will (either immediately or through exsanguination).  The plant thrives off blood of any kind.

Alak-veils give many hints for a seasoned scout to find.  Flowers (even large ones) around trees are common, but most have some sort of smell, unlike the Alak-veil.  Cutting into an Alak-veil's bark will also reveal its nature, as one will find another layer of outer bark beneath (as will cutting into its flowers, which reveals the vicious spines).  Scavengers usually get rid of animal remains around the plant's spines, but if an Alak-veil has killed recently, there will still be bones or bloodstains around.  Metal or stone equipment will remain for a long time, but such caches are often mistaken for detritus from some lost village or caravan (not an entirely uncommon thing to find).

Because the Gheen can usually move into a glide before they hit the ground, they are not as threatened by these plants, and sometimes harvest Alak-veil sap to sell to the Iskites or others as a base for gear grease.  Some dreys even cultivate the plants around the trees they inhabit as a natural defense against their enemies.

Oxeater Iris

The Oxeater Iris, or 'Caravan's Bane,' exists primarily as a large bulb just below the forest floor.  The largest Oxeater Irises have been known to weigh as much as a ton.  The bulb has a hollow stomach, however, concealed by the bulb's exterior skin.  From the surface, the plant looks like a slightly sunken patch of verdant moss.  Those treading over it easily fall through the thin skin-leaves and into the stomach, which is partially filled with a strong digestive acid.  Large Oxeater Irises can hold several creatures in their stomachs; tzaus (ox-like draft animals of the Forest), usually used for caravan duty, are a common prey of these plants, giving them their common name.

There are persistent tales of 'Saffron-bulbs,' similar plants that look like a carpet of orange moss instead of normal green moss.  Rumors disagree as to whether this is a separate species or a corrupted Oxeater, but many claim that instead of eating creatures, they turn them into Abominations through an excruciatingly painful process and then spew them forth to do fell deeds in the service of the Peril. There are many stories of these plants in Forest communities, but few herbal and botanical scholars have believed the tales credible enough to include in their pharmacopoeias and other scholarly works.

Boltwheel

The Boltwheel Fern has several reddish-green fronds that remain curled into fiddleheads throughout the plant's life.  Instead of unfurling and maturing like most of the plant's fronds, these 'needle fronds' are packed with tiny poisonous spines about the size of a toothpick.  When the plant senses vibration nearby, one (or more) of these fronds unfurls violently in the direction of the vibration, releasing a cloud of poisonous needles in a wide spread.  The missiles are inaccurate and stopped easily by even fairly light armor, but the plant hurls so many of them that one can easily find a small patch of unprotected skin.  Though its poison is very deadly, it takes over a day for a frond to regenerate its spines, and it is easily fooled by Cogs and other things that cause vibrations but are invulnerable to poison.  The plant does not actually eat those it kills, but requires well-fertilized (by corpses) soil to remain healthy.

Boltwheel poison is difficult and time-consuming to harvest (not to mention dangerous), but retains its potency for up to a week outside the plant and commands a very high price.  The Iskites consider boiled Boltwheel fiddleheads (the normal fiddleheads, not the needle fronds) to be a special delicacy, though not one often eaten.  Boltwheels are never purposefully planted, but sometimes infest battlefields, recent graves, and other places where corpses are already available.

Legionflower

The Legionflower is a greatly feared plant, perhaps more so than any other carnivorous specimen.  The Legionflower plant is a thick, creeping vine that winds just below the leaf litter on the forest floor.  Its flowers, each about the size of a Gheen, have remarkably thick and tough tongue-shaped, saw-toothed petals.  These squid-like flowers are immobile until a creature happens to touch one of the numerous hair-like 'feeler vines' that branch off the main structure.  Immediately, the flowers open and attack, moving on their own accord by scuttling around on their petals in a peculiar insectile manner.  They clamp onto creatures and thrash violently, tearing at flesh with their serrated petals.  Separating the 'flower' from the plant by severing the connecting vine immediately renders the flower inert, but the Legionflower plant swarms opponents with flowers, making it very difficult to fend them all off.  The flowers are not 'mouths' as such and do not eat; rather, the plant simply grows its vines into the dismembered corpse and consumes it over time.

Legionflowers are considered a hated scourge by every race in the Forest (though Gheen seldom encounter these forest floor plants).  They are very difficult to eradicate, however, and most sensible folk prefer to stay far away.  There is a legend that an pre-Recentering Overseer of the City of Orpiment kept a private Legionflower patch and used it to execute prisoners and rivals.  The great difficulty of restraining and managing such a patch, however, strains the story's credibility.

A stylized Legionflower bloom is a common symbol in the Forest representing ferocity, fearlessness, and war.  It can often be seen on shields and banners, and a black Legionflower bloom on an orange field was the battle flag of the Steel Siblings and the Orange Horde in general.

[spoiler=The Standard of the Orange Horde](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/hordeflag.png)[/spoiler]
Lung Tree

The Lung Tree is a most peculiar plant.  Instead of feeding on the bodies of creatures, it feeds directly on the Breath, sapping the life energy of its victims much as a Siphoner might.  Lung Trees are short and wide by Forest standards, extending a broad canopy that can span hundreds of feet.  Fleshy, translucent puffball-like sacs hang from its boughs, each one with a small hole underneath.  Close inspection reveals that these sacs breathe constantly, each making a faint sigh that sounds like soft wind from a distance.  Any who pass underneath the tree are subtly drained of the Breath, and begin to feel fatigued after around one minute.  Fortunately, the siphoning effect is so minor that it poses no risk to life; as long as one does not channel, one cannot be any more than fatigued by the tree.

Any being who channels the Breath underneath the boughs of the Lung Tree immediately attracts its attention.  The sacs above release a cloud of nearly invisible pollen-like dust that is a powerful hallucinogen.  Those who breathe this dust are assaulted by nightmarish creatures and images that seem completely real.  The tree begins to siphon the Breath of the channeler in earnest, draining their life away to nothing.  Every time the victim channels to defend himself or escape from his illusory attackers, the process is only speeded.  The victim dies in mere minutes.

Lung Trees are a menace, but are difficult to destroy, as they also release their hallucinatory dust when attacked or damaged.  The tree can survive being completely leveled or burned down as long as its thick taproot remains intact, which can go down 30 feet or more.  Lung trees, however, do provide a service to the civilized races '" it is possible, though difficult, to harvest its dust.  'Lung Dust' can be used as a weapon, usually delivered by a small, single-use blowpipe that is blown into an enemy's face.  Some Tahr bloods intentionally use the dust on themselves, believing that it allows an individual to face their greatest fears and builds character and courage.  When kept in a cool, dry container, Lung Dust can retain its potency for months, sometimes up to a year, making it much more feasible for commerce than many poisons that degrade far more quickly.  Its effects fade about half an hour after exposure ends.

Quickvine

The unassuming Quickvine is a great danger to lone travelers.  Appearing much like any number of other jungle creepers, the Quickvine is dark green and rope-like, and is studded with small spherical buds.  The Quickvine, however, takes the shape of a web.  This layout is often missed by travelers, as it generally is covered by other low-lying plants and leaf litter.  The vines themselves are wiry and strong '" when a creature steps on one, the whole network balls up as if spring-loaded.  The victim is often hopelessly trapped before they even know what hit them.  In minutes, the vine's buds bloom into vivid yellow flowers that exude an overpowering scent identical to that of rotting meat.  Scavengers and desperate predators attracted by the scent then do the vine's work for it '" sooner or later, the subject is killed if it cannot extricate itself.  The vine, for its part, feeds off the carcass.

Quickvines are generally only a threat to lone travelers; they cannot defend themselves from another person cutting them away from their victim.  The travelers may still have to flee, however, as there is little time to cut away the vine net before the scent begins to spread.

Quickvines make some of the strongest ropes in the Forest (short of some non-plant fibers like Saryet silk) and are especially favored by Gheen for construction in the canopy.  The Umbril also have a use for the plant; as connoisseurs of decay, the Umbril consider the scent of the Quickvine to be delightfully appealing and use its crushed flowers to accent their food.  'Quickvine Paste' is one of the most prized spices of the Umbril, but it only retains its strong scent when relatively fresh and moist.

Devouring Parasol

Up in the canopy hangs the Devouring Parasol, waiting to fall upon the unwary below.  The parasol looks much like a large pair of oval-shaped jaws, similar to those of a Venus flytrap but a dozen feet across when open.  It hangs from a high branch, attached by a tightly coiled vine.  The parasol has primitive 'eyes' around the edges of its jaws that can detect motion and changes in light directly beneath it.  When it detects something of interest, the coil slackens, the jaws fall upon the target and snap shut, and the coil begins to tighten again.  As the jaws are drawn up again (presumably with the prey inside), the plant begins to generate digestive acid.  The jaws are tough and difficult to cut through.  Cutting the jaws from the vine is somewhat easier and stops the generation of additional acid, but the subsequent fall may prove lethal (and the jaws must still be hacked or pried open).

The innate coils of the Devouring Parasol vine make it unsuited for rope, and creating acid in a laboratory is far easier than harvesting it from this plant.  As a result, it is not considered a useful plant and is often eradicated from the environs of nearby settlements.  The Gheen have been known to occasionally grow the plant beneath their dreys, however, as a natural defense against their enemies.

That is an absolutely gorgeous map.

Polycarp, are Cogs often attracted to/by Lung Trees? Can they usually be found near them? Or at least more often then in other places of the forest?

Quote from: SteerpikeThat is an absolutely gorgeous map.

Thanks - though as I noted, it's just me following a tutorial.  It's really easy to use if you want to make one in a similar style.

Quote from: LlumPolycarp, are Cogs often attracted to/by Lung Trees? Can they usually be found near them? Or at least more often then in other places of the forest?

Hm, that's something I hadn't considered.  If Lung Trees work like a regular Siphoner, then yes, they would be attracted.  There are no known Cogs that channel, however, so they would never trigger the tree's draining power (and they don't get fatigued, either).  I like the way that's going; Cog-hunters might be attracted to the tree even though it's dangerous, perhaps not knowing what they're under.  Cog predators might prove even more dangerous to travelers than the illusory monsters of the tree itself.

More Messing with GIMP

I've been expanding my GIMP project with a foray into bump mapping.  As it turns out, some maps are pretty good for things like forests and mountains.  Here is my current "terrain test" with some forest and some Obsidian Plain:

(http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/examplemap.png)

Of course, I still have problems.  The border between terrains is a bit of a hash, though it's not all my fault - normal forest progression requires that barren land become grassland, then scrubland, and then forest (or something like that).  The Forest (note the capitalization), in contrast, grows so quickly that it just "expands" and doesn't really undergo that gradual conversion.  The result is really abrupt borders that don't really look that great, at least not how I'm doing them currently.

Also, how do I represent different kinds of forest?  I guess I could tweak the color gradient and the map texture, but I'm not really sure which gradients/textures best show certain kinds of forests.  Some "patchy" areas like Whitefen/Chalklands and the Flowering Moors are going to be a real challenge to do; I don't really know how I'll approach those.

In addition, I'm still not really sure about how to handle special features, like everything from settlements to cities and geological formations.  What kind of symbols wouldn't look out of place on a map like this?

The quest for a decent map continues.  I've been thinking about diving right into a big ol' Black Circle/Obsidian Plain map just because I know what I want for most of the textures, but there's still the matter of the patchy areas (the Plain borders all three of the examples I gave, damn it).

Your problem is actually that you are using a forest texture mask instead of creating individual trees. I know a way in photoshop to fix that but I'm not sure about the method to use in GIMP.

Quote from: NomadicYour problem is actually that you are using a forest texture mask instead of creating individual trees. I know a way in photoshop to fix that but I'm not sure about the method to use in GIMP.

Individual trees might be a bit much for such a large-scale map.  I don't think it would work well with the more realistic look I've got going on with the mountains.  In fact, the texture I'm using now is already probably too zoomed in compared to the mountains, but it's the best I've been able to come up with so far.

Polycarp, when you layer the indiv. trees they will mesh together to seem like they are a mask-- but generally they should look better. You can place slightly different colored/textured trees on top of trees and get a sort of layered look.

If you ever used Heroes of Might and Magic III's map editor, then you know what I mean.

Good luck.

Quote from: Polycarp

Quote from: NomadicYour problem is actually that you are using a forest texture mask instead of creating individual trees. I know a way in photoshop to fix that but I'm not sure about the method to use in GIMP.

Individual trees might be a bit much for such a large-scale map.  I don't think it would work well with the more realistic look I've got going on with the mountains.  In fact, the texture I'm using now is already probably too zoomed in compared to the mountains, but it's the best I've been able to come up with so far.

Light Dragon is correct. In photoshop the technique involves using a custom brush that creates tiny shapes with varied color and size. Add a drop shadow and minor bevel and increase the count and spread and you basically have an airbrush that paints forests.

Quote from: NomadicLight Dragon is correct. In photoshop the technique involves using a custom brush that creates tiny shapes with varied color and size. Add a drop shadow and minor bevel and increase the count and spread and you basically have an airbrush that paints forests.

I looked up this technique and checked it out, but even if I knew how to translate it into GIMP, I don't think it would be appropriate.  For one thing, I'm looking for more of an "aerial atlas" style rather than a hand-drawn look (I've hand drawn every other campaign map I've made, so it's just trying something new).

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, those foresting techniques apply to maps with one or more discrete sections of forest.  What I am doing is literally all forest except for a few local exceptions.  Really, there's no need for a "forest texture" at all, because I don't even need to use any kind of "grass" or "plains" texture that people normally cover the ground with by default.  Filling the entire map with a huge ton of little patterned trees is probably unecessary, and it might even get too cluttered.

I'm speedily going through GIMP tutorials and I'm pretty confident that I can denote some different types of forest with different colors and possibly textures.  Some, however - like the difference between High Forest and Low Forest (only different in their height, so they'd look the same from above) are tricker unless I just want to give them some arbitrarily different color, which I don't really want to do.  I'm not sure how I'm going to figure out that one.

Quote from: http://fc06.deviantart.com/fs40/i/2009/044/f/f/Medieval_Town_Map_by_GarrettDMorrison.pngForest is in the top right[/url].

Quote from: PolycarpSecondly, and perhaps more importantly, those foresting techniques apply to maps with one or more discrete sections of forest.  What I am doing is literally all forest except for a few local exceptions.  Really, there's no need for a "forest texture" at all, because I don't even need to use any kind of "grass" or "plains" texture that people normally cover the ground with by default.  Filling the entire map with a huge ton of little patterned trees is probably unnecessary, and it might even get too cluttered.

This technique applies to any map that you want realistic looking forest in it will work if you have forested areas, places with a few trees, or a world filled with trees. Doesn't matter.

Well, alright, you've convinced me - but the point is rather moot because I still don't seem to have that capability without photoshop.  Drat.

Edit: Holy crap, I just discovered how to do this with a tutorial I found online.  You have to make an image with multiple layers, one for each kind of shape/tree/whatever you want to paint, and then save it as a .gih (GIMP brush) in the brush folder and save it such that it paints each one randomly.  Give it enough spacing and it seems to work.  I guess now I just need some decent looking trees to paint...

Nomadic, Light Dragon, thanks for the help:

[spoiler=THANKS](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/thanks.jpg)[/spoiler]

In Gimp its actually rather simple. Take a faded round brush, select your choice of green, max the jitter, and spray green dots like hell (i suggest using a mask for this. Copy this layer. Take one of the layers you sprayed the dots on, go to filter->distorts->Emboss, on the other darken it using contrast, and place on the bottom; this is your drop shadow. this is how i did my forests for most of my maps. there is my sig if you want to see the tree style.

Appearances are Deceiving!
While I haven't had any big articles to post in this thread, work on the wiki is continuing on a fairly regular basis.  Some recent articles of decent size you may be interested in:

Slavery (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Slavery_%28Clockwork_Jungle%29)*Faction list (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Factions_%28Clockwork_Jungle%29)*Tea, Delicious Tea (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Tea_%28Clockwork_Jungle%29)*Common languages (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Language_%28Clockwork_Jungle%29), and some fun expressions (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Expressions_%28Clockwork_Jungle%29)*A few flags (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=List_of_Flags_%28Clockwork_Jungle%29) I've made[/list]
On another note, I hope to have a no-stats theatre (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?63994.last) game going soon, perhaps next weekend.  Though short and simple, it will be the first time I (or, as far as I know, anybody) has run any kind of game in this setting.  See if you can come (and don't make too much fun of me, I haven't run a game in a long time).

Finally, the Clockwork Jungle has won a 2009 Guildie (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?72795.last) for Most Awesomest Setting of the Year!  Thanks to everyone who gave their feedback and helped me build this setting, and congratulations to all the other winners and nominees.

Did the no-stats theater thing work out?

Also, congrats on the Guildie!

Quote from: SteerpikeDid the no-stats theater thing work out?

Also, congrats on the Guildie!

No it didn't, I was the only one that showed up ready to play and nobody else in the chat was willing to do anything.

...Well at least I'll have a chance to play the next time it pops up then. Sad though that it did not work out.

These things can be brutal to organize.  I too will try to make the next one (I realized about two hours after it was scheduled that I'd missed it), if you give it another try.

I'd be happy to try it again another time (though not this weekend).  It would be a shame not to after Vreeg gave me so much good advice, for which I am very grateful.

As you say, Steerpike, organization can be a problem.  Next time, maybe we'll get Nomadic to make a news post or something.  People have busy schedules and forget things, myself included, and there's no problem with that.

It's been a while!  My level of regular input into CJ has always waxed and waned, and unfortunately I am at something of a nadir right now.  My seasonal job has ended, so I am out of work, and busily looking for more.  It's just not the right time for me to be doing a whole lot of work on CJ, something which I very much regret.  I have added and updated a few wiki articles this week; we'll see how that goes and whether it takes too much time from my other obligations.  I'll get back into the swing of things again when my life and livelihood are a little more secure.

Until then, however, I leave you will a little short story I made many months ago.  One of the things I wondered about when making up Umbril society was child-rearing.  How, exactly, do you raise a child that can think and see long before it can speak or move?  What makes the Umbril turn out the way they do?  I wrote this one evening as a brief exploration into that topic.  

To tell the truth, it's a bit... over the top.  I'm not certain if I want the Umbril to regularly rise to this level of villainy and psychological abuse.  Still, it's true to the deep cynicism that I want to portray as essential to Umbril society, and I hung on to it for that reason.

[ic=Color and Cruelty]Sickness. Death.  Weakness.

Ven's vocabulary had been enriched by the death of its sibling.  It was fortunate to have words to describe what was happening before Ven's eyes, because Ven had nothing else to watch.  Ven was a sporeling, sessile and unable to so much as turn its face away from the rotting corpse of Ul, its sibling.  Since Ven had grown eyes, which was as far back as Ven could remember, it had stared at Ul, who stared back at Ven.  They had no gills yet, and could not speak to one another, but there was a bond forged between them, more out of desperation and loneliness than anything else.  Except for the creeping feet of the Tenders and the cold, distant voice of the Teacher, there was nothing else in Ven's world except Ul.  Ven was vaguely aware that there were other sporelings around it, but it could not see them.  It saw Ul, and the Wall behind, and together they stared at each other in the utterly grey world of the nursery-cavern.

Ul had proven infirm.  Ven had noticed long before the Tenders did; it could see the signs in Ul's silent face.  Yet even when the Tenders noticed, they did nothing.  They observed, and then they left, for they had the gift of Motion.

The Teacher alone had the gift of Speech.  It said that Ul was Sick, and that there is no hope for the Sick but themselves.  So Ven urged Ul to have hope, but could only do so in its mind.  It could feel Ul's hyphae in the soil, and it could feel them shrinking with each passing day.  It tried to help Ul, perhaps give it some of its own nutrients '" to share '" but this was beyond its power.  It tried to imagine itself making Ul feel better.  It fantasized that it could banish the Sick, and send it to some place beyond the Wall, or into the deep soil below the reach of hyphae.

This proved insufficient.  One day, the Teacher announced that Ul had Died.  But Ven already knew.

At first, Ven was angry at the Tenders and the Teacher.  How could they do nothing?  They could move!  They could speak!  They were gods who could vanish from sight and create sound as they pleased.  Ven hated them, though it did not yet know the word.  The Teacher said one day Ven would have the gifts of movement and speech, and Ven imagined terrifying the Teacher with these gifts, for it did not yet have a concept of pain or injury.  Ven's violence was fear, raw terror that stung from the head to the hyphae.  Ven imagined that it could crush the Teacher's mind with that fear; that the Teacher would speak no more, transfixed by Ven's terrible appearance and disappearance, cowed into oblivion by the words of power that Ven would utter.

As Ul began to fall apart, however, Ven realized that what it truly hated was Ul.  Ul, who even now grew with fine hairs of sweet-smelling mold.  Ul, who listed pitifully to one side, and whose stalk was already beginning to wither and split.  Ul, whose eyes were filled with insects now.  It could taste Ul, as its sibling's body entered the soil and crept up Ven's own thirsting hypae.  It disgusted Ven, but what disgusted Ven most of all was Ul's weakness.  The teacher said it was Ul's fault.  Ul could have lived, but it succumbed, leaving Ven alone in the world.  Ul had abandoned Ven, and Ven jealously wished it could die and escape this place.  It tried to uproot itself, but that was no use.  There was nothing it could do but stare at Ul's rotting corpse, day after day, and hope that it too would become Sick.

One day, the Tenders removed what was left of Ul.  They took sharp tools and cut it out of the soil.  Then they began to cut around Ven.  Ven trembled in a paroxysm of newly discovered pain as the tools cut through its mycelium.  Stop it!  I'm not Sick!  I'm not Dead!  Stop, stop, STOP!

The Tenders did not hear what was not said, and they took Ven out of the soil, turned it, and placed it back into the soil.  Ven's world was changed.  It could see other Sporelings now, and a different Wall.  It could see the Teacher, too, for the first time.  The teacher was a revolting sight, with a sawtoothed opening in its face and a bulbous body with membranous slits that expanded and contracted as it made speech.

'Today you will learn about Color and Fairness.'  Ven had recently learned what it was like to feel pain, and now wanted to inflict the direst pain upon the Teacher.  It wanted to cut it with the sharp tools until it Died.

And then came the Light.

Another horrid-looking creature came into view, holding an object that was made of something Ven had never seen before.  The Nursery had always been dark, and everything had been in black and grey, the way the Umbril saw the lightless world.  Suddenly, the light touched everything, and everything had Color, exciting and riotous and nauseating all at the same time.  The teacher held up a flat object with colors on it, each one distinct and new, and began to name them.

'This is Yellow,' it said, and continued along, naming each in turn.  Ven was overwhelmed by the sights and could hardly concentrate on these new words.  'This is Green,' it said.

Finally it came to the last color.

'This is the color that I will not name again.  This is the mark of Death '" and things much worse than Death.  It is called Orange.'

Ven had seen Death, and it had not been Orange.

'You think,' the Teacher continued, 'that you already know what Death is, and you already know what is worse than Death.  I know this because I was like you, once.'  The Teacher paused, looked at Orange, and turned back to glare at Ven and the other Sporelings.

'But you know nothing,' the Teacher growled, gradually raising its voice to fill the darkened room.  'What you know is like a speck of dirt in this Nursery.  You think I am cruel, but one day you will walk in the World, and see that I am not so cruel as it.  I have not killed any among you; Nature killed them, and I did nothing.  To treat everyone the same way '" that is what is called Fairness.  To those who thrived, I did nothing differently; to those who withered, I did nothing differently.  I have fed you all.  I have guarded you all.  I have taught you all.  You receive all this because I wish it, and I wish it to all equally.  Thus am I rightfully called Fair.'

'And you hate me,' it continued, 'for being Fair.  But that shows how little you know.  There are many things living in this world, sporelings, and they are not Fair as I am.  They will feed the ones who thrive, and take from the ones who wither.  They will teach whom they please, and leave the rest in silence.  They will kill '" yes, sporelings, they will kill.  They will kill whom they wish to and spare the rest.  And you may hate them, as you hate me, but it does not matter.  They will not care.  You may one day say to them all the words you wish, and they will hear you no more than I hear you now.'

The Teacher extinguished the Light, and the Colors faded back to grey.

'I am the only Fair Umbril.  I am the only Fair living thing in this World.  I alone judge all equally, and act upon all equally.  Nobody will be Fair to you again until you Die and return to Ivetziven.  There is nothing you can do about it.  The nature of life is to be unjust, unfair; you may try to be Fair one day, perhaps to spite me, but you will not succeed.'

The Teacher's cold rasp grew soft and calm.  'But now you know the Truth, and when you leave this place, that Truth will be a Light to you in the darkest places, revealing things for what they really are.  You will see creatures despair because their World is not Fair.  They will kill each other, they will kill themselves, all because their World is not Fair.  You will see such creatures, and you will know that you are better than they '" for you will recall that only I am fair.  You will recall that the World is not Fair...  no, sporelings, the World simply is.  And so must you be."

Ven realized now that Ul was not the fortunate one.  Ul had not seen Color.  Ul did not know the Truth.  Ul lived and died without Light.  Ven knew it was stronger, it was better, and that all had happened was Fair '" even if it would not be so forever.  Ven did not hate Ul any longer, but neither did it take pity on its sibling.  Ul was a lesson, nothing more.  Ul belonged to the old world, without Color, without Light, and without Truth.  Ivetziven could have Ul, as it wished.

Ven wished to see the World.[/ic]

That was an awesome read. It really brought new life to the feel of the umbril and what they are about.

[ic=On Action]To act without knowledge is the desire of none, but the fate of all.  Wisdom is to know this; Courage is to persevere regardless.
- Yek Auree, Wandering Storyteller[/ic]
[/b][/size]
Every culture has its legends and heroes.  In the Clockwork Jungle, many of these are uniquely revered by specific races and communities; protagonists of Tahr chants, Gheen songs, Umbril epics and Iskite histories are often used to glorify the past of a specific people and assert the power and right of their lineage.  A native to one part of the Forest may find the lore of another people, even members of his own species, to be profoundly different from his own.  There are a few common threads among these disparate peoples, however '" among them, the legendary Orchid Court.  Like our legends of King Arthur and his knights, the legends of the Orchid Court are not a single compendium by one author, but an entire tradition of storytelling based around a host of characters from antiquity.  The Orchid Court is a literary cycle whose basic characters and themes are still being explored and interpreted today.

Because of this constant re-interpretation of these ancient legends, it is difficult to ascertain how much of the Orchid Court cycle is factual.  Some characters are almost certainly real; they appear elsewhere in the limited number of texts that survive from that period.  Others are present in so many stories that, if they are not wholly real, they are at least based on a real person or a composite of various people.  Still other characters appear in only one or a handful of stories, and with these it is impossible to say whether they are real figures, based on real figures, or simply imagined by the author to suit the purposes of the narrative.  Even if one believes all the characters to be real, there is still the matter of whether the events described in these many stories actually took place.  Stories within the cycle sometimes conflict with each other, placing one character in multiple places at the same time, or claiming that a character died in battle while another story is certain that he died in his bed.  Some characters are believed to not have been contemporaries at all, but still appear together in the legendary lore.  Yet to most people, all this is irrelevant: the story, not the history, has kept the four races repeating the legends of the Orchid Court in word and print for more than half a millennium.

The Real Orchid Court

The central figures in the Orchid Court mythos are four adventurers, one of each race, who probably lived around 7-8 hundred years ago.  Traditionally, they are:

Shuszan, an Iskite female, the warrior-poet*Ayl Ikarut, a Gheen male, the master Imbuer*Ulkuth, a Tahr male, the clever hunter and riddle-teller*Idev-Thul, an Umbril, the natural philosopher

The names and professions sometimes differ, and some stories cover only the exploits of one or two of them, but this list is generally consistent throughout most of the core legends of the Orchid Court that deal with these 'predecessors.'  Emphasis, however, can vary widely.  When reading any individual story about these original four, one can generally determine the author's race based on who is elevated to the status of the 'main character.'

The story of their meeting varies just as widely '" in some, they are bitter enemies who become reconciled, and in others they were acquaintances from the beginning '" but in general, the stories tell that one of the four was imprisoned by their local ruler for speaking out against the ruler's tyranny, greed, or ineptitude.  The others come to their friend's rescue and overthrow the local ruler, only to find that by doing this they have unbalanced things in a way they could not have foreseen '" the ruler was actually beloved by the people, or was keeping an even worse tyrant at bay, or had the favor of divine powers.  A heavy price is paid, and the group resolves to journey out into the wider world and serve a greater cause in an effort to pay penance for the harm they inadvertently visited upon themselves or others.  The theme of noble intentions and unanticipated consequences is the dominant one in most of these stories, and the fundamental balance is seldom really restored.  Whether tragic or farcical, each story usually deals with the struggle of mortal beings to do righteous acts in a complex world of which they have only a limited understanding.  Often, the struggle is in vain, or the resolution of the particular adventure is left murky, and it is unclear whether any net benefit has been achieved.  The extent to which this theme is explored and the general mood of the story varies substantially between authors; Umbril storytellers tend to underline the inevitable futility of altruism, while Tahr chanters usually laud the heroes for nobly pursuing just means even in the face of hopelessness and uncertain ends.

The name used for this group of heroes is the 'Orchid Band.'  There are a thousand folk explanations of the name, but the original meaning has probably been lost.  It may be that the name was only applied later, and the contemporaries of these heroes (if, indeed, they even existed at all) never used the term.  Over time, as their exploits passed into legend, writers began to recount not only their 'main quest' but other adventures they were present for or the exploits of secondary characters that they had met along the way, sometimes with only a passing mention of the original Band itself.  The original four became just the center of a great constellation of mythical heroes and villains, popping in and out of stories but usually sharing some common thread of personality or description between different writers of different ages.  This great network of legendary figures, interconnected by time, fate, happenstance, and artistic license, became known as the Orchid Court.

Some important figures of the Court are only tenuously linked to the 'original' members of the Orchid Band.  As an example, consider Wujjal, a female Iskite known best from the story of Wujjal's Fan, in which she takes revenge upon the evil lord Ungsze for killing her mate and attempting to win her affections for himself through deception and intimidation.  Wujjal is provided with her 'fan,' a weapon disguised to look like a servant's polefan, by an Umbril smith.  In other stories, an Umbril smith of the same name (assumed to be the same one) is one of the retainers of a great telavai-Prince who is driven into madness by the machinations of its close friend.  This prince, before it underwent the process of becoming a living mummy, features in one of the adventures of the original Orchid Band.  Wujjal is thus only distantly associated with the Band, yet is still considered part of the literary cycle '" indeed, she is a comparatively major character based on the number of stories she appears or is mentioned in.

Modern Storytelling

Orchid Court adventures are common topics of storytellers and poets of all races.  Presentation tends to vary based on the forms of art and storytelling favored by the locals.  Only in recent generations have some of these stories begun to crystallize into a set format, and this is a direct result of the printing press.  The Orchid Court was always an oral tradition first and foremost, but since the spread of printing, written stories have gained in acceptance and prominence.  Though there are still many variations on each story, the spread of easily made written copies has reduced artistic diversity somewhat.

A storyteller is considered to be an essential part of any community, whether that story is told in poetry, prose, chant, or song.  A gifted storyteller with a good memory, a wide repertoire, and a bit of dramatic flair is a treasured asset virtually anywhere in the world.  Some storytellers become wanderers, traveling with caravans and flyers between communities, hoping to make a reputation for themselves or interested in finding new stories and seeing the distant lands they took place in.  Though Orchid Court stories are by no means the majority of the experienced storyteller's tales, they do form a major part '" perhaps even the foundation '" of the modern storyteller's craft.  Local tales from one community or another may not interest any beyond that community, but the essence of most Orchid Court legends will be understood by foreigners and even aliens.

Race and Relationships in the Forest[/b]

Any campaign played in the Clockwork Jungle must deal with the relationship that the so-called 'civilized races' have with one another.  It is with that in mind that I'm going to attempt to elaborate on how I perceive the concept of inter-species relationships in the Forest and what its inhabitants make of each other as colleagues and friends.

In the Depths

Though the cities of the Netai and the Circle have received a great deal of attention in my writings, it must be remembered that the vast majority of Gheen, Iskites, Tahro, and Umbril do not live in those places.  Even White Lotus, the most populous city in known history '" perhaps even the largest since the fall of the Artificers '" is but a dew drop in a pond.

Most of the Forest's civilized inhabitants live in small communities in the deep forest, and these communities are nearly all racially homogeneous.  The residents are largely isolated; their contact with outsiders, even of their own race, is minimal.  Many communities have some regular connection to the outside world through annual or seasonal caravans, but others lack any regular connection to the rest of the world, relying solely on the occasional flyer or 'pioneer trader' (the merchant-adventurers that reach small and distant communities rarely touched by larger caravans) for news and foreign goods.

An alien who visits such a community will often be met with a great deal of curiosity.  Locals seldom actually fear aliens, even if they haven't seen them before, because the four races are an integral part of each others' lore.  Children in deep Forest communities will likely hear about aliens long before they see them, often in great detail, so aliens are never treated as 'monsters.'  Reactions to visiting aliens depends a great deal on who is receiving them; all four races have traditions of hospitality to both foreigners and aliens, but it is undeniable that the Gheen tend to receive visitors more warmly than the Umbril do.  Regardless of who an alien visits, however, he will likely have to adjust to being stared at constantly, for all people exhibit curiosity (and it often overwhelms their sense of good manners).

Though most communities are quite hospitable to aliens who mean well, they often harbor a great deal of misconceptions about them.  Some of these misconceptions are taught, and others arise out of the conditions in which the people see aliens.  For instance, an Iskite village visited annually by an Umbril caravan may only know Umbril as merchants, and tend to assume that another visiting Umbril is also a merchant because 'that's what Umbril do.'  Regular alien visitors to a community may become well known to the community as individuals, but this does not always change a community's perceptions of the alien's race as a whole; an Iskite caravan-master may enjoy drinks, food, and bawdy jokes with elders of a Gheen community he visits every season, and yet still hear the same elders talk about 'Iskites' in general as humorless and arrogant 'hardheads' who would never deign to speak to a Gheen.  It is always easier to caricature the people you do not know, and isolated communities often make a distinction between the 'good' aliens they know as individuals and the 'strange' aliens they've never met.

Though the Iskites are most often characterized as being chauvinists, a subtle feeling of superiority is commonly found in deep Forest communities of every race.  The world of a Tahr, for instance, revolves around Tahro; occasional alien visitors seem to exist only to supply the goods that the blood wishes in return for what the patriarch sees fit to give them.  Such aliens are actors on the fringes of life '" intelligent, certainly, but ultimately just another of many species with a specific purpose.  What an isolated local knows about alien cultures is likely to be only the ways in which they differ from his own way of life, and a 'different' culture is usually related to children as an 'inferior' one (though often the aliens are described as simply not being able to help it '" they are what they are).  Iskites are not the only ones who can be quite patronizing when dealing with alien visitors.  A visitor may have to endure their customs and traditions frequently being called 'quaint,' 'antique,' or even 'barbarous,' words said without malice but without much understanding either.

In Large Communities

The larger and more frequently visited a settlement is, the more its relationship with and understanding of aliens changes.  Many 'towns' in the Wash are composed of both Ussik and Umbril inhabitants, and large settlements all across the Forest (especially those on significant trade routes) often have long-term or permanent residents of other races.  Any settlement that has an actual guest house (let alone a real inn) is one that's visited enough to have a much more cosmopolitan attitude than some little backwoods commune.

Here, residents see aliens on a regular basis, perhaps even every day.  Stares are less common, though an alien will still receive more attention than just another 'regular' resident would.  Oddly, however, travelers often find that their treatment is actually worse than that afforded to them in the backwoods.  The average resident still doesn't interact personally with aliens (even if they are a common sight), and may feel justified in otherwise shaky characterizations and prejudices because they 'live around aliens' and supposedly live in less ignorance than a deep Forest villager.  In addition, the more aliens a community gets, the less important any single alien is to them; an isolated community may depend on just a handful of well-known aliens who are afforded significant respect, but in a larger community with many caravans and visitors, nobody is indispensible.  Foriegners and aliens alike may be actively resented for bringing their barbaric customs into the community.  Though hospitality is still the norm, it is seldom as lavish as it is in deep Forest communities, and '" though generally rare '" conflict and violence between visitors and locals tends to be more common than in more isolated lands.

In Cities

This trend tends to reverse itself as a community approaches the size and stature of a true city.  In places like Var Aban and the City of Orpiment, aliens live shoulder to shoulder.  They may only count their kindred among their true friends, but they'll still interact with aliens at the market, in the taverns, and on the streets every day.

City-dwellers tend to have a much more realistic and nuanced view of aliens than others, though it should be noted that this is hardly proof against any kind of prejudice or hostility.  An Iskite will almost automatically trust an Iskite stranger over an alien one, and the same is true for every other race.  Most city-dwellers have plenty of alien acquaintances but no true friends among them, preferring to mingle with members of their own species who think and act the way they do.  Professional and business relationships between aliens are extremely common in some areas, particularly the Black Circle, but the status of 'colleague' is the highest most aliens achieve with one another.

Xenosociality

There are, however, those who do form deep and meaningful relations with aliens.  Often this is an outlier '" an otherwise 'normal' individual has a single alien acquaintance that, for whatever reason, they have grown to trust.  These relationships can be difficult to maintain for many reasons, not the least of which is that in many groups there is significant peer pressure within one's own racial community to keep aliens at arm's length.

Even the logistics of such a friendship can be an impediment.  No two species share the same diet, for instance; Iskites have their omnivorous starchy, spicy fare, Gheen eat fruit and insects almost exclusively, Tahro meals revolve around generous cuts of animal flesh, and Umbril cuisine is quite literally nauseating to everyone else.  Different races tend to prefer different habitats and living conditions, and may find the lifestyle of their friend totally intolerable.

Indeed, the very definition of friendship '" and its ensuing expectations '" varies between the races, sometimes with unfortunate results.

For Iskites, there is no such thing as an equal friendship; though friends treat each other with respect, there is always a superior and always an inferior even if the difference is only slight.  An Iskite may assume the role of the 'superior friend' with an alien it is fond of, only to alienate (no pun intended) the friend who perceives this as condescension.*Among Umbril, 'friend' is a very serious term that is not used to describe anything less than total and profound mutual trust.  An Umbril will frequently hesitate to use the word even to describe aliens it knows very well, and referring to lifelong colleagues as 'acquaintances' tends to upset them, especially when they see the Umbril as a friend.*The Gheen, on the other hand, use the word quite casually, but for them friendship can never supersede family '" a Gheen is likely to put the welfare of a distant cousin it hardly knows over that of aliens it has known and worked with for years, because a Gheen family is in some sense considered to be the same

person.  This can be upsetting for a Gheen's alien friends, particularly Iskites and Umbril (who have no concept of family loyalty).*The Tahr definition of friendship is more flexible, including both good acquaintances and very close confidants.  For the Tahro, however, the formal tradition of mutual gift-giving is even more important between friends, and aliens can unwittingly damage their relationship with a Tahr by failing to understand or reciprocate, or assuming that such formalities can be 'overlooked' between good friends.[/list]
All that said, however, individuals are individuals, and it is not entirely unheard of for an Iskite to accept the idea of an equal friendship or for a Gheen to side with a friend over a family member.  Still, culture and upbringing are powerful forces, and a person can struggle with these concepts for a lifetime.

There are a few who have many alien friends, sometimes more than friends of their own kind.  This is very rare in the general population and usually linked to an extremely unusual lifestyle.  Caravan drivers, traveling merchants, flyers, explorers, and adventurers are typically isolated from communities of their kindred for long periods of time.  They may spend much of the year living in or traveling between alien communities, have extensive dealings with aliens, and rely on aliens for their day-to-day survival.  They are some of the most likely to be broadly xenosocial, but may also be treated with some suspicion by members of their own race who can't understand the idea of putting such extensive trust in an alien.  The Iskites tend to be especially wary of members of their own race who have too many alien friends because of their associations with 'rogue Iskites.'

All this said, however, the idea of a 'band of aliens' traveling and adventuring together is not at all unheard of.  It is, in fact, a staple of heroic lore and literature.  In practice, most such bands lean towards professionalism '" members have a good working relationship (hopefully) but only rarely become real friends.  This is often true even for members of the same species, as work in the wilderness is always dangerous and many have an aversion to forming emotional attachments to people who may well be devoured by a speckled cat tomorrow.  Nevertheless, stories abound of alien friendships formed in adventuring, commerce, and war, and serve to enlighten the narrow-minded '" if only a little.

Very well thought out stuff there. Too many settings treat racial prejudices as a fringe phenomenon despite population structures that would more likely place it in the mainstream.

The White Desert article is the coolest thing, I love it. The Mered are scary as hell, they freak me out....

[ic=The Channelers and the Bonetails]'Bonetails, we call them.  As their tails are painted white, see.'

'And what do they call themselves?'

The Umbril twisted its head around, giving Tzeko, walking behind him, a brief leer.  'You can ask them, if you like'¦ over supper, hm?'  The lilt in the Umbril's voice, sounding something like a leaking slide whistle, made its sarcasm very clear.  Tzeko opened his mouth to respond, but the retort turned into a loud grunt as nearly thirty pounds of Gheen landed abruptly on his shoulders.

'What our most mellifluous guide is referring to is, of course,' the Gheen said as the Iskite staggered forward to regain his balance, 'the supposed proclivity of the local inhabitants for feasting on the flesh of sentients, even scholars such as us.'  Hopping down from Tzeko's back, the Gheen made a smacking sound with his tongue, spat out a wad of chewed root mash, and continued.  'Unlikely, unlikely.  Though one never does know with flesheaters, hmm?'

Tzeko straightened himself and shifted his cuirass, his grimace reflecting his momentary loss of dignity.  'Well'¦ to eat flesh is one thing, to eat a sentient'¦ it's another.  Another entirely.  They're Iskites, not Hacklers.  Surely the Analects haven't been forgotten so close to the Circle?'

'The Prince has very little concern for the state of Iskite philosophy in the Maw,' replied Irem-Ur, the Ajen-Umbril guide.  'Your queertalking Outlander kindred seem to have scarcely more.'

'And a great deal you must know about the Prince,' replied Tzeko acidly, 'having been thrown out of his court and sent to guide Aik Rauyee and I through the most lightforsaken part of the Maw.'

Irem-Ur spun about, its gills flaring.  'Some tongue on you for a hardhead!' It wheezed.  'Some gratitude from a '˜stone off slithering about in the Maw with no reckoning clock from skyward without me!  You miserable mud-faced'¦'

Irem-Ur's invective trailed off as a tremendous cacophony erupted from the forest around them.  The sounds of great feet loping through the undergrowth seemed to come from every side, accompanied by a chorus of hissing and shouting.  Tzeko's saber was out in a second, but just as quickly an arrow whistled out of the undergrowth and slapped into the earth between Tzeko's feet.

'Put it down,' hissed Aik Rauyee, 'or you'll have us killed!'  The warning was unnecessary, for it was then that the pursuers issued forth from the jungle.  

A great reptile came plodding out of the undergrowth, looking like a cross between a snapping turtle and an iguana.  Its body alone was a dozen feet in length, disregarding both its long, twitching tail and its beaked head.  A three-horned shell enclosed the body, and around this was firmly attached a rope harness that secured a pair of Iskites to its back.  One held the creature's reins, while the other had a bow nocked and drawn.  The trio looked around apprehensively as another lizard pushed its way through the ferns, and then another, followed by Iskites on foot, painted in yellow and white and all bearing weapons.  Last of all came a final lizard bearing an open-topped howdah festooned with braided spider-silk and the tails of various savage animals.  Its occupant sat with her hands upon her knees, leaning forward intently.  She alone among her companions was clad in metal, wearing a lamellar coat seemingly cobbled from Cog-parts, shining and brassy pieces among the steel plates of varying sizes and shapes.  A scar was painted on her face in a slanted line across her eye, a narrow yellow band with crimson herringbone marks that ended in curling flourishes on her cheek and the center of her forehead.

Aik Rauyee elbowed Tzeko in the thigh.  Tzeko sheathed his saber as calmly and deliberately as he could manage, and then sunk to his knees.  Stretching his arms widely to either side of him, he bowed his head and lowered his hackles flat against his neck.

'Honored Master, your excellence and wisdom precedes you,' Tzeko said.  The foreign phrases, carefully practiced, came almost naturally.  'We seek an audience with you, but did not expect you here.  It is with great humility that we ask your forgiveness.'

The metal-clad Iskite squinted at the bowing figure.  'We are not Out-landers, trespasser, and neither are you.  Speak the Tongue to me.'

'Again, your forgiveness, Honored Master,' Tzeko replied without looking up, this time in his own native speech.

'Better,' she said, 'but you speak it like a drunken flatterer.'  She flashed a crooked grin at her own remark.  'Now what have I caught today?'

'Simple travelers, Your Concordance,'  Tzeko spoke deferentially as he stared at the ground.  'Travelers who have come here only with great travail, and now humbly ask your assistance.'

The Honored Master made a short hiss and trilled in a falling pitch, and her mount lowered its body and held its chin flat against the ground without another sound.  She stood from her platform, hopped down to earth accompanied by the jingle of metal scales, and walked slowly towards the group.  Upon her approach, Aik Rauyee copied Tzeko's bow '" with the addition of a few twirls of his hands '" and Irem-Ur made a pained face as he stiffly tried to imitate the pose.

'Which one of you,' the Honored Master sneered, 'is the prisoner?  I am guessing the Gheen'¦ he looks good and fat, and fungus is such bland food.'

This remark managed to make Tzeko look up with a stunned look, but he quickly swallowed and resumed his earthward gaze.  'We'¦ are traveling companions, all three of us.  The Gheen and I have sought you; the Umbril is our guide.'

'The Gheen's name is Aik Rauyee, most benevolent and perceptive mistress,' the Gheen added.

'Irem-Ur,' grunted the Umbril.

'Stop bowing, sawface.  Looking at you is causing me pain.'  Irem-Ur straightened, offering a strained approximation of a thankful smile.  A few hushed laughs came from the assembly of Iskite warriors around them.

'So,' she continued, 'it is my help you want.  I fear your great humility'¦'  She planted her foot squarely on the back of Tzeko's head and pressed it slowly to earth.  ''¦must be more great still.'

Aik Rauyee pursed his lips in disapproval.  'Mistress,' he urged, 'this display is not necessary.  We are at your mercy, merely-'

'Don't speak," she snapped, and looked back to the Iskite beneath her. "At my mercy!  You think I can't see that?  How stupid you must think me.'  As emphasis to '˜stupid,' she thrust her foot down forcefully, driving Tzeko's face into the dirt.  'Really, this is a good joke '" where is your Tahr, to complete your little troupe?'

Aik Rauyee's mouth opened, but no answer came.  Instead, he inhaled slowly.  His eyelids drooped halfway closed, and his jaw clenched as he continued to breathe in, making the air hiss through his teeth.  It was not this, however, but a sudden cry from one of her white-tailed warriors, that made the Honored Master look up from the prostrate Tzeko.  The one cry turned into a general cacophony of surprise and dismay, for the Forest was dying around them.  The moss turned brown and dusty beneath their feet, while ferns wilted around them and petals fell from shriveling flowers.

'What-' the Honored Master's expression was cut off when Tzeko grabbed the ankle above his head with both arms and wrenched her to the ground.  She fell face-first as Tzeko rose; she kicked wildly with her other leg, but Tzeko easily evaded the blow and provoked a screech as he buried his knee in her lower back.  The scream ripped the attention of the encircling warriors away from the dying foliage.  Raising their weapons, they rushed to aid their leader.

Aik Rauyee exhaled, and a tremendous gust of wind blew from behind him as if on command, stopping the warriors in their tracks.  He stood as high as his stature allowed and spoke.

'Cease this!'  The Gheen's voice boomed like a peal of thunder.  Tzeko stood, having quickly won his struggle with the Honored Mistress, and held her in front of him with a curved knife pressing menacingly upon her throat.  'We have had more than enough of this childish theater!  We offer you peace.  You will take it.'

The warriors stood in place, though the wind had ceased.  They looked to one another and to the Gheen, less than half their height but with a voice like a Wyrm and a face that implied the threat he had left unsaid.  None raised his weapon.

'Urk'¦ we'¦ d-did not know, D-deep One,' gurgled the Honored Master.  'Peace'¦ it is p-peace.'  Tzeko looked to Aik Rauyee, who nodded back.  Tzeko pulled his knife away and let her stumble forward, gasping for air.

Irem-Ur, its ears still ringing, managed to scrape together a stunned query.

'What'¦ who are you?'

'I told you already,' Aik Rauyee replied, a slight edge of annoyance in his voice.  'We're scholars.'[/ic]

Excellent work. I think that shows a perfect example of the sort of player interaction one might find in the CJ :)

Scar Painting[/b]

Iskites, as everyone knows, do not scar.  No blade or bolt will mar their scales forever, for so long as they are alive, they will eventually heal whatever has been inflicted upon them.  One might suppose that this is an altogether good thing, but this imperviousness to permanent markings does have its cultural drawbacks.

[note=Inspiration]I've had this idea for a while, but this thread (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?76650.last) made me decide to put it in words.  It was interesting to consider how a people who are incapable of scarring and tattooing would react to these customs among others who have that "ability."[/note]Despite the pride Iskites often express in a 'pure' Iskite culture, their traditions '" like those of all the civilized races '" have been heavily influenced by those of their alien neighbors for thousands of years.  In particular, the Tahro have a long history of venerating scars acquired in battle or on the hunt.  Their scars are worn like medals, the focus of stories told to others that can't be fabricated like mere words.  A well-known Tahr chant of Szalk Kengal focuses entirely on the scars of Talutha, a renowned patriarch from Antiquity.  Each line describes a different scar on his body and in what endeavor he acquired it; the chant is a two-person one in a '˜question and answer' format and describes these scars as if they were works of art (e.g. 'and from whence came that noble line, flowing down his broad left shoulder like sable ivy?').  Tahro and Iskites have lived together in places like Scalemount and Gearfall since time immemorial, and Iskites undoubtedly observed such customs when dealing with (or, occasionally, fighting against) them.

It is likely that this veneration of scars led to the current Iskite practice of 'scar painting.'  An Iskite's war wound stays with him only until the wound is healed, and then there is no trace of it left.  Iskite scales, however, are far more conducive to painting than the fur of a Tahr or Gheen (or the clammy, spongy skin of an Umbril).  Decorative scale-painting is an ancient Iskite custom that varies widely from region to region, but it is especially widespread before certain important events.  Sometimes the purpose is functional; female competitors in the Sesses eng Salej, the competition that determines egg-laying privileges in the community, often give themselves distinctive markings so that they can be identified easily by spectators watching at a distance.  Sometimes the patterns and colors are designed to be auspicious, laden with spiritual meaning in the hopes that they will bring good fortune.  Iskite warriors will often paint themselves before battle even though their scales will be almost entirely covered by armor for this reason.

Scar painting itself, however, is a more historically recent phenomenon.  It likely began among Iskite warrior castes who sought to show their well-earned wounds in battle long after they had faded away.  Early scar paintings were simple '" just a line of color that traced a former wound.  As the practice grew in popularity, however, these lines became more heavily embellished (or alternately, more stylized).  Modern Iskite scar paintings are generally more 'aesthetically pleasing' than the scars they replaced, in keeping with the Iskite predilection for symmetry and geometry.  Some are not solid lines, but winding lines of text, flowing patterns, or other alternative designs.

Quite a bit of scar painting doesn't actually trace an old wound at all.  Some are 'relocated' scars '" for instance, a line on the face to represent a wound taken elsewhere in order to make a scar obvious that would otherwise be hidden under clothing or armor.  Sometimes, such scar lines may indicate battles fought rather than actual wounds.  Other times, the wound itself is more metaphorical.  During the Fifth Netai War, a (false) rumor spread among the Right Orientation Alliance warriors that the Umbril had slit the throat of a Grandmaster of Anath after her village had fallen to the Confederation, and in the months that followed it became common for the Iskite fighters to paint scars on their own throats to symbolize that their solidarity with the Anathi Iskites who suffered under such supposed cruelty.

The practice of scar painting is sometimes met with dismissal or derision by the Tahro, who may see it as a superficial appropriation of their culture by those who can't appreciate its deeper meanings.  Most of them scoff at the idea of an 'embellished' scar (let alone a metaphorical one).  Certainly, such boastful ostentation would never be tolerated from a Tahr, though aliens are generally given more latitude (though they may be mocked for their people's 'scar envy' once they're out of earshot).  Not all Iskites are enamored with the practice either; a few see it as 'pollution' of Iskite culture with 'barbaric' practices, while others simply think that scars are nothing to boast about and take far more pride in a 'flawless' Iskite form, unmarked as nature intended.  As this practice is quite old, however, vociferous opponents are very rare.  Most Iskites don't even think about the custom's origins, and some may even assume that the Tahro appropriated the idea of praising scars to them rather than vice versa.

The other races have no real opinion on the matter.  The Gheen care little for scars, believing that they simply indicate one was not quick enough to get out of the way.  They do, however, paint and adorn themselves quite often, and see the Iskite custom in a similar light.  As for the Umbril, they accepted long ago that not everything the 'animals' do makes sense, and tend to be decidedly indifferent towards what they see as superficial trivialities.

Progress and Dilemmas[/b]

After a period of fairly low-key work on CJ, I'm trying to get a picture of what has been done and what still needs to be done.  It helps me to write these things out, so if you're interested please to excuse the rambling style.

Places

I wrote very early on in this thread that the three main "areas of interest" were, in no particular order, the Black Circle, the Netai, and the Wash/Feathervale.  This is not to say that the rest of the world is boring or empty - far from it - but it was these places that I envisioned as being the sort of "starting area" where players would be introduced into the world.

The Black Circle probably has the most information about it.  Koldon's Well and Greythorn don't have writeups yet; Greythorn hasn't been done because while I have a good idea of the Solar Order and how it works, I haven't really settled on another city idea that "pops."  The other Circle cities are all very distinctive in look and feel - White Lotus has the "Marsh Arab Venice" theme going on, the Rookery has its dwellings wedged in the middle of forbidding limestone spires (now that I think about it, it's sort of a cross between Evan Dahm's Stonepalm (http://www.rice-boy.com/order/index.php?c=212) and the Ivory Tower from the Neverending Story), and the City of Orpiment has its miniature jungle and layered city.  I don't have a real vision for Greythorn yet, besides the feeling that I want it to be an ex-Artificer city: ruins built up into a modern settlement.

Koldon's Well is troublesome for another reason that I'll get to in a bit.

The Netai is the second-most detailed, and it's what my recent work has been on.  I've started with city descriptions for that (Inembran is done and posted to the wiki, Teven is 80% or so and awaiting some editing and polishing).  I like how it's coming along, but it needs to be anchored in some sort of space - spending time on the settlements on the shores would be worthwhile.  Working on the Netai has also opened up the region to the counter-clockwise, Scalemount and the Sekah, which I've actually done a lot of work on (even though I haven't posted any of it).  It might end up getting the #3 slot from the last place on the original list...

...Wash/Feathervale.  Which, it must be said, was in the original list of "interesting places" not so much because the place was interesting but because of the people in it - particularly the World-Queen and her enemies.  The problem, it seems, is that a conflict alone doesn't hold my interest.  Conflict is a background of adventure, not a site of it, and there really isn't much to the site right now.  I need to get a better idea of the "conditions on the ground" before I work up to these sorts of struggles between good and evil (not that it'll be all black and white - I want to retain the Peril as the only bearer of the mantle of unquestionable evil).

That Damn Queen

The World-Queen is also turning into a continuity nightmare.  It doesn't have to do so much with her as her Cogs.  The World-Queen has the Unfleshed Legion, a small army of Cogs she controls, and she's had this since almost the beginning of CJ.  The problem is that I've done a lot of revision since the initial days when this was basically going to be a D&D adaptation, and I have managed to retcon virtually any sensible means by which she has this control out of existence.

Originally I just assumed it would be some kind of Cog-controlling artifact that she found, but "magic" in CJ became something that is innately connected to life - there is no such thing as an inanimate "magic item."  The item could be nothing special in itself, just something that the Cogs were designed to obey (rather, the person holding it) but this raises the question of how the World-Queen would even communicate with the Cogs.  How does she make her wishes known, especially when they're on missions far away?  I feel it would sabotage my very idea of Cogs to give them some kind of "Cog language" that non-Cogs could learn.  Ideally, her control would be some method that she doesn't really understand (and maybe the Cogs don't either).

I could always go with the CJ version of "a wizard did it" and make it some kind of obscure channeling power, but even if this made sense in the magic system (it doesn't, really) it would require a massive retcon of the World-Queen's essential nature.  I imagined her as a Gheen Caligula, amoral, power-hungry, and a bit deranged.  Being a channeler requires intense meditative focus and mastery of the body and mind.  Making the World-Queen a master channeler is a bit problematic given the whole "wrathful, sociopathic narcissist" theme.  "Buddha Hitler" is not what I want here.

The Tahro

The Tahro are sort of the odd men out in the setting, which reflects the place where they are in my mind.  They were the last race I actually developed, considerably later than the rest, and I feel it shows in the amount of material I've devoted to them compared to the others.  I can generally tell when I don't have a good grasp of a character when I ask myself "how would X deal with this situation" and can't make a coherent answer, and I've been having that trouble writing about the Tahro.

This is the main reason that Koldon's Well isn't described yet.  The Well is supposed to be a sort of interface between the nomadic and traditionalist Tahro and their more settled and urbane cousins that participate in the culture of the Black Circle.  My feeling is that it wouldn't be a good idea to address this deviation from Tahr norms without really understanding what Tahr norms are.  On the other hand, I've done most of my work so far with aliens in the presence of aliens in urban melting pots, so perhaps the Well is a good place to start.

Regardless, I do want to do something focusing on the Tahro soon, whether that means the Well, the Black Blood, the Exiles, or the Kengal Tahro.

Demons

"Demon" is a term I've been using on and off to denote things that the people of the CJ think are weird, whether that means unquestionably real things (like the Caretaker, for instance) or dubiously real things (various gods and mythical creatures).  I'm not sure I'm happy with the word, but it does convey the feelings the characters of the world have about them - they don't fit into the natural order of things, nobody knows where they come from or whether they are somehow related to one another, and there is always a certain menace and foreboding that comes with their presence.  The Caretaker even creeps out the Grove's permanent residents, not to mention the visitors.

I like the idea of the Caretaker - the unique, strange, potent elder being who strides among normal people without even acknowledging them - and I've been trying to brainstorm more things like it, including things with more awareness of and interest in the real world.  I'm not exactly clear yet on the role that I want such beings to play: Whether, like the Caretaker, they have only a very local, limited effect on the world, or whether they have influence more commensurate with their age and power.

This Thread

I think I'm pretty much done with this thread as a means of conveying content.  I like the format of the wiki more for putting up the "articles" that I have throughout this thread.  I think what I want this thread for is things like this (designer's notes and dilemmas) and other non-encyclopedic things that can't really go in the wiki, as well as discussion in general.

With that in mind, I've given some thought to ending this thread and starting a new one.  There's a lot of horribly outdated stuff here, as well as plenty of stuff that's perfectly fine except for the fact that it's just duplicating what's on the wiki.  Discussion is too hard to follow when it's interrupted by big, random articles.

Setting Review

I appreciate the enthusiasm for CJ that people have, and it is really shameful that I haven't given more back.  There's some absolutely brilliant settings here that I have never jumped into because I was a bit overwhelmed just by all the content people have.  I want to try to do more (despite my currently more time-consuming job), though I'm not really sure where to start.  Wiki-reading might be a good idea, since I like it so much for my own setting content.

A Pretty Picture

Finally, I wanted to append a pretty picture I found on the website of Ursula Vernon (http://www.redwombatstudio.com/blog/wpg2), who you may know as the creator of that pear with the mouth.  You know the one I'm talking about (LOL WUT).  I trawl the internet for pictures of jungles and ruins (and ruins in jungles) all the time, but for obvious reasons this one stood out as "hey, that's like CJ."

[spoiler=CLICK FOR PIC](http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee254/MithridatesNES/gearworld_invasion.jpg)[/spoiler]

Hmm, if you have inexplicable creatures (your "demons"), then one could perhaps imagine an ancient creature who knows how to order the Cogs? Maybe the World Queen has caged that creature or struck a deal with it?
Just an idea...  

>>I appreciate the enthusiasm for CJ that people have, and it is really shameful that I haven't given more back. There's some absolutely brilliant settings here that I have never jumped into because I was a bit overwhelmed just by all the content people have. I want to try to do more (despite my currently more time-consuming job), though I'm not really sure where to start. Wiki-reading might be a good idea, since I like it so much for my own setting content.

I'd recommend starting with Crow's setting Broken Verge. I think it's similar in feel to yours and it's a manageable length... Not in that its thematics are similar, but it just feels like yours with a sense of wonder.

Then maybe check out Death From the Depths (in my signature) by Pair O'Dice.

If you posted your particular interests in setting-reading then I could give better advice.

...I'd rather you not move updates to the wiki, though-- I at least am much less likely to read any wiki article than a thread here. But if it works better for you, I support your decision.

Quote from: Cataclysmic CrowHmm, if you have inexplicable creatures (your "demons"), then one could perhaps imagine an ancient creature who knows how to order the Cogs? Maybe the World Queen has caged that creature or struck a deal with it?
Just an idea...

That's a really good idea.  Of course, it requires a few new things - a non-Cog capable of communicating with a Cog (such a thing doesn't exist yet, Ot being the reverse exception), a means for a mortal to communicate with a demon (haven't really touched that subject yet), and a reason for action - whether a threat or an offer - that a demon would actually take seriously.

Light Dragon - thanks for the tips.  I've got less time for both reading and writing now that I'm employed again, but I'm certainly going to make an effort to do more of the former on this site.

As for the wiki... I do like it better, but another way to reduce clutter without abandoning thread content updates might be to just spin off a discussion thread like many others have done/are doing.

I've finally read through the entire thread, and I loved it all the way. It is by far the most in-depth campaign setting that I have ever seen (much better than any published one, in my opinion). You truly have a fantastic imagination.

Just a few ideas I've had: are there any snakes in the clockwork jungle? You haven't mentioned any yet, and I assume there must be some normal jungle varieties. I bring this up mainly because a cog snake would look really awesome. Animal cogs with legs are one thing, but a cog that can move and act like a snake? Not THAT would be some feat of engineering. I don't think anyone would want to be constricted by one of those.

For a while now, I was wondering what the world looked like, mostly imagining how it would look like if it were a planet. If this setting did take place on a planet, the Grandmother Mountain need not be on the planet's pole - rather, I think it would be far better if it were somewhere far from the pole (perhaps on the equator). This would help 2 things:
1) You wouldn't have to deal with the equivalent of an arctic circle day/night cycle, which would probably affect the entire obsidian circle.
2) It makes load stones seem more magical, reinforcing the idea that they do not work due to magnetism.

That's it for now, but if I think of anything else, I'll let you know.

Quote from: http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php?title=Ambuscade_Spiderambuscade spiders[/url] don't have poison, and neither would Cog snakes.  A constrictor, however, would only be improved on by being made of metal/wood/etc.  It's a good idea, one I'll return to sometime when I'm focusing more on the bestiary.

QuoteFor a while now, I was wondering what the world looked like, mostly imagining how it would look like if it were a planet. If this setting did take place on a planet, the Grandmother Mountain need not be on the planet's pole - rather, I think it would be far better if it were somewhere far from the pole (perhaps on the equator). This would help 2 things:
1) You wouldn't have to deal with the equivalent of an arctic circle day/night cycle, which would probably affect the entire obsidian circle.
2) It makes load stones seem more magical, reinforcing the idea that they do not work due to magnetism.

seems[/i] like the world's axis.  They have every reason to believe that it is, and none to believe that it isn't.  They're not in a position to know about day-night cycles or make any deduction from that.

My long-standing policy on the issue is that there is no "official" answer regarding what the world outside the Forest looks like or what shape it is.  Any answer I could give would only be a limitation.  As it stands now, there could be a whole world past the Line of [lodestone] Influence, or the Forest could go on forever, or it could simply drop off into nothingness.  That's a decision I am happy to leave to other people.

That said, if it were a planet - which it certainly could be - your reasoning does make sense.  A traveler beyond the known world might eventually find himself somewhere "temperate."  That would probably be a rather surreal experience for someone who has never seen anything other than tropical forest (and the occasional barren mountain) in his entire life.

[ic=The Bane of Kengal]Where I tread, there is clamor for an instant and silence for an eternity.  My footfalls are the final echoes of the drum that sounds Armageddon.  What I trample down shall never rise again.
- Thals-Tadun Nata, Umbril Warlord[/ic]

[/b][/size]
The Tahro are a scattered people, for roaming is in their nature.  Though some lands are known for a large Tahr presence, the Tahro do not dominate them with clusters of settlements.  They prefer their space, for the blood flourishes when it does not need to compete with its fellows for resources.  A dozen or so bloods meet once a year to conduct the business of the many, but until that time they live insular lives that seldom make much impact on aliens save those who seek them out for trade.

At least, this is what most 'scholars' will tell you '" but like all generalizations of the four races, it is riddled with qualifiers and exceptions.  The greatest exception lies in the shadow of the mountains of the clockwise Wyrmcrown, where the Conclave of Kengal forms the nexus of a mighty and numerous host.  Kengal has neither monarchs nor subjects '" it is not a state at all '" yet its political influence and the power of its cultural hegemony are undeniable.  The elders of the Crimson Gate may not hold despotic dominion over their people like Iskite grandmasters or Gheen monarchs, but their name evokes respect and pride in the hearts of Tahro from the Circle to the Outlands.

History

Kengal '" the name is an Iskite one '" was built as a szalk, a monument for an Iskite lord in Antiquity, before heredity and monarchy were abolished from their society.  Part fortress, part palace, and part tomb, szalks were built to ensure that their creator would be remembered forever, along with her great wealth and power.  Szalk Kengal was one of the largest ever constructed.  It was built to have no equal, boasting dozens of elaborate palaces ensconced in decoratively crenellated walls, miles of richly decorated halls and galleries, acres of lush gardens and orchards, and thousands of statues and fantastic reliefs to immortalize the deeds of its builder forever.

It is a testament to the vagaries of history that this great lord's name has, despite her best efforts, been utterly forgotten.  The writings of Kengal differ from Jalassan, the dead Iskite language used in most of Scalemount at the time, and have never been translated.  The massive shift in Iskite culture in the Age of the Prophets did away with the Blood-Lords and fomented a total rejection of their megalomaniacal projects.  The people she had once ruled moved away to more civilized lands, and mighty Kengal became an empty ruin.

It is not known precisely when Kengal was occupied by local Tahr bloods looking for a new seasonal camp.  In all likelihood, the ruin was used for temporary habitation not long after the Iskites left it, but it was only in the later Age of Prophets that it became a 'Red Camp' '" a place where all the bloods of the region's tribe gather during the holy Red Season to hold their councils, share their stories, conduct their rituals, and win their mates.

The Tahro of Kengal were one of the few groups of their race to embrace the power of the Oracle Tree.  A Tahr known as the Grey Seer toppled the local patriarchs and inaugurated more than a century and a half of prophetic autocracy.  It is said (albeit by Tahro) that the Seer ruled over Tahro and aliens all the way to the borders of Scalemount and dealt with the Grand Authority on an equal footing, even at the height of the latter's power.  It was the race's brightest star in a time that saw many of their people marginalized and driven far from the civilized lands.
 
When the Recentering came, Kengal was luckier than most '" at first.  Most of the bloods of the region were not present at Kengal when the Dominion Tree flowered and fell.  When they returned, the Tahro found their Seer dead and their beloved Kengal now a moss-covered lair of the Saffron Moss.  They stormed the szalk and purged the Peril from it, destroying many abominations that had once been the closest advisors, retainers, and family of the Seer.  They rebuilt '" but it would not be long before Thals-Tadun Nata, co-leader of the Orange Horde, led its half of the bloody crusade to Kengal's walls.

The Siege of Kengal (EVP -4) was the hardest battle the Horde ever faced.  Determined to hold the home they had reclaimed from the Peril's grasp, the Kengal Tahro fought with everything they had.  The story as it was written by one of Thals-Tadun's followers is that it took seven assaults to finally take the outer walls, and that the Horde came within a hair's breadth of being routed when the Tahro unleashed eight Cog war-elephants upon them.  Thals-Tadun itself was wounded in the battle.  The Horde, however, would not be denied their victory, and their sheer numbers and fanatical ferocity eventually carried them through the beleaguered defenders.  Thousands of Tahro were slaughtered, and the priceless artifacts of the Szalk '" Iskite artwork and statues hundreds of years old '" were smashed and vandalized.  What remained of the Kengal Tahro fled into the mountain valleys of the Wyrmcrown.

Kengal remained abandoned for a generation.  As the Recentering faded, however, Tahr bloods began returning to the region, and the szalk was eventually resettled.  Since then, the number of bloods using it has increased steadily, and it may even be approaching its previous size under the Grey Seer's rule.

Kengal

Kengal is not a city.  It is best described as an immense, fortified campground.  All Tahr bloods are permitted to rest here, though special dispensation from the Conclave is required to stay longer than a half-season to ensure that local resources are conserved.  Tahro who are too sick or injured to travel with their blood may remain in the care of the White Palace as long as needed, and Tahro without a blood for various reasons may be allowed to stay as novice Wards of the Conclave, if some use can be made of them.

Kengal is composed of many different 'palaces' connected by paved avenues and interspersed with courtyards.  A series of curtain walls, more decorative than functional, separate the compound into distinct districts.  All of the palaces have names, though only the Patriarchal Palace, the White Palace, and the Palace of the Mountain are continuously in use.  The palace at the very center of Kengal, the Sepulchral Palace, is the resting place of the great lady who commissioned the szalk to be built, and it is left in peace out of respect.

The Tahro have done a great deal of renovation in Szalk Kengal since its was abandoned by its original builders.  The walls, heavily damaged by both neglect and the city's siege, have been repaired to functionality (if not always to their original beauty).  The palaces that see frequent use have been cleaned out and re-furnished to meet Tahr needs; some are used for rituals during the Red Season, while others have been converted entirely to the storage of food and goods.  The courtyards, once carefully maintained gardens, have been allowed to return to their wild state '" the Tahr have no use for them, save for a few small plots around the White Palace which are maintained for growing medicinal herbs and other useful plants.

The Great Conclave

During the Red Season, all the bloods of the region may come to Kengal to take part in what is easily the largest meeting of Tahro in the world.  Technically, a standing invitation exists to all Tahro everywhere, though it is rare that a blood from another region travels this far.  For two weeks, around than 12,000 Tahro (somewhere around 500 bloods) reside at Kengal and take part in the Great Conclave.  The attending bloods are divided into tribes (usually about 20 bloods each) that hold their gatherings in different districts of the compound.  Though each tribe is responsible for its own business, it is common and accepted for individuals to attend other gatherings as well during their time there.

The Great Conclave is very similar to the gatherings Tahro all over the world have at their Red Camps, only more so.  The religious rites are grander, the feasts bigger, and the chants louder.  The Great Conclave is also a site where far-reaching decisions are made.  Here, the patriarchs of the bloods discuss their routes of migration and their plans vis-à-vis the aliens of the region.  Offers of trade and peace are discussed here, and raids against offending aliens are organized here.  Though the bloods of Kengal never act in true unison (sheer logistics make it impossible), the theoretical amount of military might that can be leveraged by the Great Conclave is considerable enough that the mere threat of taking a grievance to the gathering is often enough to quell a blood's belligerent adversaries or force them to come to more generous terms.

The Great Conclave is also host to the Honor-Market, a sort of 'free exchange' where the bloods leave gifts for any who desire them.  All bloods make a contribution if able, and any blood may take anything it wishes from the Market.  A system of honor and reputation prevents the Market from being abused.  It is considered a great honor to give more than you take, and a mark of shame to take more than you give.  As a result, there is always a large amount of 'leftover' gifts, which are collected by the Conclave at the end of the gathering.

The Conclave

The Conclave (not to be confused with the Great Conclave, which refers to the Red Season gathering) is the organization that maintains and administers Kengal itself.  It occupies the Patriarchal Palace year-round; the curtain wall around the palace is painted red, and the Conclave is for this reason often referred to as the Crimson Gate.

The Conclave is not a traditional blood.  It is composed of twenty-two members, one Venerable Elder and twenty-one Stewards chosen from the tribes of Kengal; each tribe nominates one of its members for the position, and the empty seats of the Conclave are filled from these nominees by casting lots.  The term of a steward is three years, and their terms are staggered so that a third of the seats are open every year.  The venerable elder is not chosen in this way; he serves on the Conclave for life and selects his own successor among the many blood patriarchs of the Kengal Tahro.  His role is not to make decisions, but to be the ultimate guardian of tradition among the stewards, a voice that even they must listen to with silence and respect.

The Conclave is served by around two hundred Wards of the Conclave, Tahro who either have no blood or willingly chose to leave their blood in order to serve the stewards.  Wards serve as 'novices' for one year, and if they find this service suitable, commit themselves for life (though the Conclave sometimes grants them temporary or permanent leave for a variety of reasons).  Wards do many duties for the Conclave '" they may be scribes, cooks, servants, guards, messengers, emissaries, or anything else that is required of them.  They are granted tremendous respect by their kin, for there is no greater gift than one's own life.

The central duty of the Conclave is to organize and prepare for the annual gathering, but they also engage in some degree of foreign policy.  Though the Conclave commands no bloods, it does carry considerable weight with the tribes and is often able to sway the decisions of the patriarchs.  Normally, these decisions are made in the Great Conclave when all the tribes are assembled, but if there is a true emergency during the rest of the year, the Conclave is empowered to pronounce an Edict of Absence, a binding declaration that all the tribes of Kengal must follow to the best of their ability until the Great Conclave can meet and consider the situation.  Such edicts are very rarely used, and usually only when there is a grave threat to a tribe or the Conclave itself that cannot wait for the Red Season to be dealt with.  This is partially because, come Red Season, the gathered patriarchs of the Great Conclave must pass judgment on the legitimacy of the edict '" and if they find it was spoken in vain, the entire Conclave is subject to whatever punishment the patriarchs see fit, up to and including perpetual exile.

Historically, the Conclave has refused to become openly involved with conflict between aliens.  The bloods trade or fight as they wish, and the Conclave has no authority to stop them.  During the recent Netai Wars, the Confederation sent several diplomatic missions to Kengal, presumably to enlist their aid in the Confederation's struggle.  Despite the sentiments of the bloods being overwhelmingly with the Confederation because of the large Tahr population of the Isles, the Conclave chose to remain neutral, perhaps fearing that a pro-Confederation stance would damage their relations with Scalemount.  This did not stop several bloods from aggressively raiding Iskite caravans heading towards the Sekah, which developed into a minor but intense conflict called the 'War of the Road' that ran concurrently with the 5th Netai War.

People, Culture, and Language

'Kengal Tahro' is a fairly nebulous term.  In its narrowest sense, it refers to all Tahr bloods that make the annual journey to Kengal for the Great Conclave (which is still a large number).  There are many bloods, however, who only make the journey occasionally, and still more who never travel to Kengal but share camps with bloods that do.  Kengal is thus at the center of a cultural sphere that extends from the foothills of the Wyrmcrown to the Tahro of the clockwise Vinetrough, the inner Clawed Thicket, and the borderlands of the Rainbow Road all the way to the Sekah.

These are not 'Kengal lands' by any stretch of the imagination '" Kengal is not a state, and it controls no territory outside its own walls.  The influence of culture and tradition is powerful, however, especially when shared among hundreds of bloods from all over the region.  The Conclave may not have an army or levy taxes, but Kengal casts a long shadow over every neighboring land with a Tahr presence.

The Kengal Tahro do not share a single language.  The bloods are largely either speakers of the various Kalath languages or the Seekers' Chant, a mix of antique Outlands Tahr speech and a dead Chalice Gheen language that is spoken beyond the Pass of Thorns.  Kalath languages are more widely spoken among the Kengal Tahro, but the Conclave has no 'official' language '" indeed, the language spoken at the Conclave tends to change from year to year as newly appointed stewards change the demographic balance of the council.

[spoiler=Palaces of Kengal]
The Palace of the Mountain
Located near the edge of the compound, the Palace of the Mountain functions as a place of rest and lodging for aliens who wish to do business with the Tahro.  It is a three-level ziggurat that was once covered in terraced gardens all the way to the top, though as with most of Kengal's gardens, they have long since reverted to their natural state.  The interior of the structure has living quarters, stables, kitchens, and other such facilities.  The accommodations are spacious and luxurious compared to camping in the Forest, and travelers here fear neither fierce creatures nor banditry.  To harm an alien within the walls of Kengal would be a dire breach of the Conclave's hospitality, and would be taken as an act of war against the Conclave itself.

Aliens are permitted to go where they wish within Kengal during most of the year, though they must return to the Palace of the Mountain by nightfall.  Only the Patriarchal Palace and the Sepulchral Palace are permanently off-limits to them.  When Red Season arrives, however, they are forbidden to leave the Palace on pain of immediate expulsion; the Great Conclave is intended to be a purely Tahr event which no aliens may experience (save the few aliens who have been adopted into Tahr society by a blood).

The White Palace
Named for the cracked alabaster veneer that adorns the hallways within, the White Palace is the house of healing and convalescence for Kengal and all the Kengal Tahro.  Healers of all kinds practice their arts and refine their knowledge here.  Many are channelers '" imbuers, specifically '" who live a monastic existence in Kengal, seeking to master both the Breath and the healing arts.  Some aliens serve here as well, usually those who seek to learn from the masters of the White Palace and share their own techniques and cures.

The White Palace takes in all those who are sick or injured, regardless of race or allegiance.  Nobody under the care of the Palace may be harmed, regardless of their feuds with a blood or anyone else '" they are granted complete sanctuary by the Conclave until they are fit enough to leave.  The Palace seeks no payment for its services, but will accept what is freely given.

The Sepulchral Palace
The palace that holds the tomb of Kengal's builder is sealed against all, a gesture of respect towards a long-dead potentate of the Iskites.  'The Lady of Stone,' as she is called, still lies within.  Most of the finery that surrounded her in ages past is a distant memory, ruined or stolen when Kengal was sacked by the Orange Horde.  Her sarcophagus was smashed, and the delicate cog-gold flowers that covered it melted down and carried away.

More than a century ago, the returning Tahro entered the Palace to see what was left.  The treasures were lost or destroyed, including '" it was thought '" the mummified body of the Lady herself.  Her body was later found stashed in a secret chamber, presumably having been hidden by one of Kengal's defenders before the fall.  Her sarcophagus was rebuilt (though without its gilding) and her body was replaced therein.  Nothing else was touched, and the rest of the Palace is frozen in time from when it was plundered more than two centuries ago.  Graffiti extolling the power of Thals-Tadun and proclaiming the coming end of the world is still carved into the mosaics and floor-tiles.  None may enter save those permitted by the Conclave, and the Conclave has never given that permission to a single soul since the Palace was resealed '" not even to the occasional Iskite scholar who expresses interest in studying it.

Isolation breeds rumors, and there are many about the Sepulchral Palace.  Some say that the lower levels contain a forbidden library compiled by the Grey Seer, while others say that it contains a mass grave of hundreds of Tahro who made their last stand here during the Siege.  The truth is probably far less interesting.

The Patriarchal Palace
The Conclave and its wards live and work in the Patriarchal Palace.  It is one of Kengal's larger structures and its population at any one time is typically less than two hundred, so at times it can feel like an abandoned building.  It is well-maintained, however, if not lavish, and includes every room and facility the Conclave requires, from archives and storage-rooms to scriveners' cells and meeting halls.  Entrance to the Palace is by invitation only to Tahro and completely forbidden to aliens, save in the very rare instance where the Conclave requests the presence of an alien ambassador.

The concoction of spirits has been the hobby of many of the wards for years, and the Patriarchal Palace is also home to a large distillery.  Tasting the fruit brandy of the Patriarchal Palace, known regionally as the 'Water of Kengal,' is considered a mandatory part of the visit by many alien travelers.  The distillery also produces medicinal bitters made from local herbs for the White Palace and general interest.[/spoiler]

Immersive and wonderfully crafted as ever.

Quote from: PolycarpI think I'm pretty much done with this thread as a means of conveying content.  I like the format of the wiki more for putting up the "articles" that I have throughout this thread.  I think what I want this thread for is things like this (designer's notes and dilemmas) and other non-encyclopedic things that can't really go in the wiki, as well as discussion in general.

With that in mind, I've given some thought to ending this thread and starting a new one.  There's a lot of horribly outdated stuff here, as well as plenty of stuff that's perfectly fine except for the fact that it's just duplicating what's on the wiki.  Discussion is too hard to follow when it's interrupted by big, random articles.

I think you should do whatever you want to do. For me, I prefer reading and discussing things on threads. If you are starting a new thread, it would be nice if you could announce it on this thread (so people that are reading this thread can continue onto the next one).

Perhaps you can post updates on the Wiki, and have a thread purely for discussion purposes. If you do so, It may be good to post links on the Discussion Thread that point to new updates, similar to what you have done in some previous posts (like how you linked us to the Tea and Slavery Wiki articles).

That being said, I have some ideas for the Clockwork Jungle that you might want to look at. They are a little long, so I'm going to write them in their own, individual posts.

You've mentioned that you had some trouble with the Tahro, so here are some of my thoughts on the subject:

I think the Tahro are a very interesting race, and I've liked what you have done with them (they are actually one of my favorites). They are unusual compared to the other races because they are semi-nomadic, which in turn gives them a distinctive mindset that the 'settled' races lack.
To me, I see each Tahro blood being different from each other due to their isolation from their own kin. In the same way that Iskite villages can be different from each other, so too are Tahro bloods. Think of each blood as a separate community, each with their own personality, reasoning, and mindset. The only things really keeping the Tahro together are their traditions and the Red Season. Tahro that share a Red Camp tend to have similar mindsets, but each individual blood can differ greatly when compared to all other bloods. Each blood is unique in it's own special way, yet clings to the same old traditions.

A good example of Tahro culture would be High School. All the students go to the same school, yet students are all divided into different classes. You get to know everyone in your class far better than anyone outside your class, and sometimes students transfer to different classes. Each class, however, has it's own personality, it's own qualities, it's own mindset: some get along well, some divide themselves into sub-groups. Some are rowdy, while others get along with each other extremely well. The classes all follow the same basic agenda and rules, but the students themselves cause a class to have it's own unique experience. No two classes will ever be the same, despite their similarities.
Now look at the Tahro: they are divided into different bloods (classes), yet all get together periodically in the Red Season (just like recess or lunch break). Some join other bloods, and may or may not be as accepted as they were in their former blood (just like transfer students). Bloods who go to the same Red Camp tend to share a lot in common with each other, while at the same time can be quite different than the bloods of another Red Camp (just like comparing two schools with each other '" they share the same rules and regulations, more or less, but can be quite different from each other even to the point of school rivalries).

I think what I like the most about the Tahro is that they can be so different from each other, yet they share similar traditions. I like this sort of duality in the race. The idea of all Tahro bloods keeping the same traditions, even though two bloods could be thousands of miles apart from each other, speaking different languages and living different lifestyles (simply due to the natural resources and the seasonal camps they visit). Tahro are so different from the other races simply due to the fact that two bloods can be so different from each other. While the same could be said for other races (no two Umbril communities are exactly the same), to me it seems much more apparent in Tahro culture because each Tahro blood is incredibly smaller than the size of another race's settlement. A race divided in very small groups are more subject to change than a race divided into groups the size of a town (and towns have an easier time communicating with each other than very small nomadic groups do).
So why are the Tahr seen as traditionalists who dislike change? The way I see it, the only thing keeping the Tahro together are their traditions. If they lose their traditions, how can two bloods ever relate to each other? This is why the Tahro don't readily adopt new traditions/ideas or let go of old ones.

So how would a typical Tahro deal with a specific situation? If it isn't covered in their traditions, then perhaps the question you should be asking is, 'How would this blood deal with a specific situation?' While answering these types of questions are certainly more difficult than with other races, I think this is where the Tahro can truly shine. Show us how different they can be from each other. Perhaps different bloods even argue with each other, which can lead to some interesting historical events. Assume that anything not listed in the traditions is open for the bloods to decide for themselves. Every patriarch is different, so every blood should be different in it's own way. When you look at it from this point of view, it isn't too crazy to say that some bloods give up the nomadic lifestyle in favor for a more 'settled' lifestyle.

I didn't intend to write this much, but that's probably because I like what you did with the Tahr and can't wait to read more about their culture. I hope this helps.

You've mentioned that you were thinking about using creatures that act like the Caretaker more often. Have you ever considered a Cog caretaker? Some rogue Cog whose last instructions were something different than the other Cogs, in a way similar to Ot, the Philosopher.

Perhaps there is one town/city that has it's very own Soldier Cog. The soldier Cog's last instructions were to protect a specific person, and while that person is long dead, this hasn't stopped this Cog from trying to obey these last orders (I'm certain you recognize the reference). This has resulted in the community forming a very unique form of government '" one in which the ruler is chosen by the Cog guardian. This Cog bodyguard protects 'the chosen one' from physical harm, only becoming deadly when it believes the 'chosen' is in danger. There is no known way to stop the Cog from it's duty, perhaps other than the 'chosen' to place himself / herself between the Cog and the perceived threat. While the ruler is assumed to be immune to physical threats, this ruler would still be susceptible to death via poison. Poison isn't under the Cog's list of 'things to protect the ruler against.'
When the ruler dies, the Cog guardian searches the town for someone else to protect. Whoever it chooses the community accepts to be the new ruler. Some people probably devise ways to look like the old ruler, in an attempt to gain the favor of the Cog guardian. To add more to the mystery, perhaps the Cog has accepted radically different looking people to guard. For instance, if the previous ruler was an Umbril, why is the new ruler an Iskite? This could lead to a theory that the Ancients / Artificers looked nothing like the modern races, so the Cogs have a hard time identifying them. While this particular Cog may have trouble finding a suitable 'heir' when the previous ruler dies, once the Cog decides the new ruler it has no trouble telling apart the 'chosen one' and someone disguised as the 'chosen one.'

Why doesn't the community destroy the Cog for resources? Well perhaps it is an extremely powerful Cog that has resisted all attacks against it. When people stopped fighting it, it stopped as well. Over time, people got used to it's presence and eventually accepted the idea of exploiting it in the form of the best Palace Guard there could ever be. Maybe there was a point in time when the town was under attack by a raiding party, only to find the Cog guardian defending the town along with the town's militia. I would recommend to make this tradition of Cog-chosen-ruler become established after the Recentering, just so you don't have to deal with the Orange Horde attacking the Cog guardian.

If you use this idea (or rather expand on your original idea), there has to be a nickname for this Cog. While the Cog itself cannot speak, I'm sure generations of upholding this form of government has lead to people bestowing a name upon it.


Another random idea: What if the ancients build a portable fortress? Some sort of gargantuan Cog Hauler that is basically a small stone ruin atop giant mechanical legs. While it isn't very big (perhaps an acre or two in diameter?), it is big enough for a small settlement to live on. All the Cog does is move about the jungle, stopping only at dusk for the inhabitants to gather resources before moving on at the first sight of dawn. While floating cities are a common theme in fantasy, a walking city could make for an interesting feature of the Clockwork Jungle.

I hope this helps.

Quote from: SamuraiChickenCogs

felt[/i] in terms of the Breath - every living being exists in the Breath slightly differently, creating different currents and eddies in the Breath through their daily existence.  Cogs, being attracted by and highly sensitive to the Breath, might recognize some commonality between the one they were supposed to guard and the current object of their attention.  That would be another possible explanation as to why a completely different-looking ruler could arise; a creature's currents in the Breath have nothing to do with their species.

As for the Orange Horde, they don't really pose a problem here - the Horde didn't go everywhere.  There were entire regions they never touched.  Most of the communities that they destroyed were actually victims of small splinter groups of like-minded zealots, opportunistic bandits, or deserters from the Horde itself that sought to capitalize on the Horde's success and society's general state of chaos.  While the Horde itself wouldn't have been dissuaded by a single Soldier, any of these smaller groups would probably take a detour and attack another less well-defended target instead.  Opportunists tend to follow the path of least resistance.

I actually have made a "big Cog," I just haven't posted it.  Such is the fate of most of my ideas - I write something, it's interesting, but ultimately it either doesn't fit in some way, isn't yet polished enough, or I just decide that now isn't the time.  I did write up a "Cog Colossus," basically a big, armored Hauler, but I never really settled on what its orders should be.

The Cog-city idea reminds me of Planescape (the Crawling City in Gehenna, to be precise).  I'm not sure it fits here, however, and in any case I've imposed a self-moratorium on cities - in CJ, urban areas are supposed to be the rare exception, not the rule, and I want to concentrate more on places and people in smaller communities (which make up most of the civilized world anyway) before I even consider expanding the number of CJ cities.  It is something I'll remember, though.

By the way - I don't know to what extent the CBG community is still doing this "campaign badge" thing, but you really should take one.  Your input is fantastic, and I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment.

Quote from: PolycarpThe Cog-city idea reminds me of Planescape (the Crawling City in Gehenna, to be precise).  I'm not sure it fits here, however, and in any case I've imposed a self-moratorium on cities - in CJ, urban areas are supposed to be the rare exception, not the rule, and I want to concentrate more on places and people in smaller communities (which make up most of the civilized world anyway) before I even consider expanding the number of CJ cities.  It is something I'll remember, though.

By the way - I don't know to what extend the CBG community is still doing this "campaign badge" thing, but you really should take one.  Your input is fantastic, and I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment.
[/quote]

I am honored to accept your badge, and I thank you for the accolade. If I think of anything else, I will let you know. (also, I now have something to put in my signature! Thanks again!  :D )

>>A good example of Tahro culture would be High School. All the students go to the same school, yet students are all divided into different classes. You get to know everyone in your class far better than anyone outside your class, and sometimes students transfer to different classes. Each class, however, has it's own personality, it's own qualities, it's own mindset: some get along well, some divide themselves into sub-groups. Some are rowdy, while others get along with each other extremely well. The classes all follow the same basic agenda and rules, but the students themselves cause a class to have it's own unique experience. No two classes will ever be the same, despite their similarities.

Interesting way of looking at things, SC. And, by the way, welcome to the site. :)

Have you ever had the occasion to read http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mimsy_Were_The_Borogoves ? Having at last caught up on Th eClockwork Jugnle, I think you might find it to be of interest.

[/b]