This book was first discovered by Fenrus' Very Best in the inn rooms of the Red Lances. It was first written in X.501 by the scholar Ambrosius of Kjellos as a gift for King Magnus. This is a summary of its contents, eliding a great many chapters.
TYRETH CASTLE is constructed upon a rise overlooking the Aelfwater, one of the few fortified natural formations in that region that was not built upon in some past age. In the time of Tholnia, the very northern stretches of the Reach were not fortified at all. The Tholnian seat was located in old Ambar, and the Reach was known as a land of barbarians, unfit for habitation save by the tribesmen, the gnomes, and the halflings. The most powerful force during the early Xth Age was the dwarf-prince at Aella's Hall, also known as Mount Sirune.
After the war of the Elven League in the 3rd century, the White Harts of Tyrnen Wood, fearing an elvish invasion of the Reach from Talimisiä, surveyed their land and decided to move their hall to the shores of the Aelfwater upon a hillside. This began the dynasty that, in X.285, captured the Kjellan peninsula under the leadership of Lord Valyn Karhart.
King Valyn was the first of the Kjellan kings, made so by fire and sword, after conquering the war-torn peninsula and its nobility. King Valyn left his daughter Alina behind to care for the manor and the lands from whence they came. This, my king, is where the first Lady Protector of the Reach came from, and by the 5th century this position was solidified as the place from whence the heir should come.
The procession of Kjellan kings went thusly: King Valyn, who ruled until X.319; Queen Alina, who ruled until X.355; King Baldur, who ruled until X.398 and who brought the Order of the Forge Divine to Kjellos; King Solyce, who ruled until X.415, and who moved the seat of power to Elborg and its ancient castle, resulting in being poisoned by his own high advisors; his younger brother, King Lucas, who ruled until X.459, after slaughtering those who plotted against his brother and committed the regicide; and lastly you, my lord, King Magnus, third son of King Lucas, and lord of Elborg, Kjellos, and the Reach until this very day.
THE HEIRS of the great kings improved the fortified manor at Tyreth little by little. Queen Alina built a motte upon the hilltop and surrounded it with a palisade of wood. In her day, there was no such silver trade along the Silverlode, and the elves were considered to be an enemy of the Reach. The town of Stock did not exist, and the empty elvish temple of Nunianor was filled with darkness and shadow—in the days of King Valyn, a powerful sorcerer inhabited it and made it his home. Thus, there was no threat of elvish armies approaching along the fords, but merely from across the lake.
When King Valyn died and his daughter was called from the exile of the Reach, she placed her own son in charge of the manor house. This was Baldur Dwarf-friend, who often abandoned Tyreth to reside for long stretches at Mount Sirune, in the shadow of Aella's Hall. To his credit, he reinforced the manor and established the first houses of Tyreth town upon the slopes of the hillside. He, too, extended an offer to the dwarves of Effningas to take up residence at his castle, and for a time a small band of such mercenaries did.
Baldur ascended to the throne and signed a lasting treaty of peace with the elves of Tailimisiä. He was known as a bridge-builder, throwing new constructions across the many rivers of Kjellos and the Reach, as well as a diplomat and peacemaker. When the Ambarites threw the Order of the Forge Divine out of the Bay of Ahrain, it was Baldur who gave them a permanent home in the Five Hamlets of Kjellos.
Prince Solyce fortified the manor further, erecting its outwalls and building up the town. It was during Baldur's reign that the position entitled Lord Protector was created, precisely for Solyce himself. The modern structures that we know on Tyreth hill are courtesy of Prince Solyce, who was later killed in a plot surrounding his reclamation of the ancient imperial castle at Elborg and identification of himself with the imperial pretender Thesus Spear-bearer.
You, my lord, increased the might of the Reach, and made it a true colony of Kjellos.
Ruminations on fiction, roleplaying, and assorted irritants.
Showing posts with label town. Show all posts
Showing posts with label town. Show all posts
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Locations of Interest in Craftsmans Reach: Effningas
Size: 1,200 dwarves
Ruler: Prince Alred Effning
South of the Wood of Broken Pillars and the Tailimisiä Princedoms (in elvish, Daleädau) there stands a great lake that divides the Untamed Lands from the more well-settled Kjellan region of Craftsman's Reach known as the Aelfwater. On the northern shores of this lake, beyond the Icewater River, stands the dwarven fortress of Effningas.
It was settled during the Bleeding Plague of the IXth Age when the control of Tailimisiä withdrew and a general chaos ruled in the Greatwood. Green dwarves, besieged along the shores of the Untamed Lands by elf reavers, pirates, trolls, and all other manner of ills, fled southward under the leadership of the adventurer Jarri Effnirson.
Serving as mercenaries in various elvish wars, the Great Green Company of Jarri Effnirson eventually settled atop a hill overlooking the Aelfwater lake. There, they began the task of founding a new colony-fortress, and took on the name of their founder.
Clan Effning has been at Effningas for 700 years, several generations of dwarves, and seen five princes in their time. They are loosely allied with the Kjellans of Craftsman's Reach though their relationship with the Greatwood has diminished precipitously since the time of the Bleeding Plague and the Great Green Company.
Jarri's Hill is crowned by the modern Effning fortress, a redoubt of considerable size cut from the local granite and built with Tailimisiän wood. It's highest ramparts are cut in the shape of the ancestral Effning founders, each peering out from the crenels. When it is time to revere new ancestors, new towers are raised, thus causing the fortress to expand. The Effning fortress also sits atop the vast clan-tomb of the Effnings.
Surrounding Jarri's Hill is the Effning town, all hemmed in by a pikewall, complete with a stone gate. The outtown, comprising the Effning farms and holdings, is patrolled by the militia under the command of Burghaeff Thora, an ancient dwarven woman who has fought in several major battles. The banners of the Great Green Company still adorn the pikewalls and the fortress, displaying the golden setting sun against the green field.
Effningas has three major temples: one to Eiri the Earthfather, which stands before Jarri's Keep, one to Helga the Stonemother, located amongst the stone houses of the clan warriors, and one dedicated to Soeri and Skaldi, built into the stone walls of the Effning gatehouse.
Strangers and foreigners are oft welcome here, and the Effning Clan still works as a company-for-hire in the local wars and battles of the Untamed Lands. It's major import is iron, and its major exports include weaponcraft (Effning weapons are well-thought-of throughout the Reach and the Untamed Lands) and timberwork.
Ruler: Prince Alred Effning
South of the Wood of Broken Pillars and the Tailimisiä Princedoms (in elvish, Daleädau) there stands a great lake that divides the Untamed Lands from the more well-settled Kjellan region of Craftsman's Reach known as the Aelfwater. On the northern shores of this lake, beyond the Icewater River, stands the dwarven fortress of Effningas.
It was settled during the Bleeding Plague of the IXth Age when the control of Tailimisiä withdrew and a general chaos ruled in the Greatwood. Green dwarves, besieged along the shores of the Untamed Lands by elf reavers, pirates, trolls, and all other manner of ills, fled southward under the leadership of the adventurer Jarri Effnirson.
Serving as mercenaries in various elvish wars, the Great Green Company of Jarri Effnirson eventually settled atop a hill overlooking the Aelfwater lake. There, they began the task of founding a new colony-fortress, and took on the name of their founder.
Clan Effning has been at Effningas for 700 years, several generations of dwarves, and seen five princes in their time. They are loosely allied with the Kjellans of Craftsman's Reach though their relationship with the Greatwood has diminished precipitously since the time of the Bleeding Plague and the Great Green Company.
Jarri's Hill is crowned by the modern Effning fortress, a redoubt of considerable size cut from the local granite and built with Tailimisiän wood. It's highest ramparts are cut in the shape of the ancestral Effning founders, each peering out from the crenels. When it is time to revere new ancestors, new towers are raised, thus causing the fortress to expand. The Effning fortress also sits atop the vast clan-tomb of the Effnings.
Surrounding Jarri's Hill is the Effning town, all hemmed in by a pikewall, complete with a stone gate. The outtown, comprising the Effning farms and holdings, is patrolled by the militia under the command of Burghaeff Thora, an ancient dwarven woman who has fought in several major battles. The banners of the Great Green Company still adorn the pikewalls and the fortress, displaying the golden setting sun against the green field.
Effningas has three major temples: one to Eiri the Earthfather, which stands before Jarri's Keep, one to Helga the Stonemother, located amongst the stone houses of the clan warriors, and one dedicated to Soeri and Skaldi, built into the stone walls of the Effning gatehouse.
Strangers and foreigners are oft welcome here, and the Effning Clan still works as a company-for-hire in the local wars and battles of the Untamed Lands. It's major import is iron, and its major exports include weaponcraft (Effning weapons are well-thought-of throughout the Reach and the Untamed Lands) and timberwork.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Societies Besides Man: Elves
We know what most human D&D communities look like: medieval (or mostly Renaissance really, but that's neither here nor there—in the 10th Age they are firmly medieval) towns, hamlets, villages, and cities. But what the hell do elvish cities look like? What about dwarves? There are some vague thoughts of great mountain fastnesses and strange woodland towns, I'm certain, but there Arunia is here to offer you more... so much more.
Note that this segment deals exclusively with wind elves and touches not upon wood, silver, or refuser elves.
Do elves really have peasants? Servants?
Elvish society is filled with farmers and servants. However, what this means to an elf is far different from what it means to a man. One of the important things to recognize is that the elvish states rely on citizen-militias, assuming that every single elf within them is a potential soldier. Unlike a mannish levee, these militiamen are at least somewhat trained in swordplay (thanks to the paidea), making them far more competent.
Even elvish servants and farmers believe themselves to be essentially "free." Obligations can be broken easily in elvish society and there are no ironclad contracts. While a Milean man might be "servile" and thus unable to engage in certain types of transactions, even the meanest and basest servant in an elvish kingdom is under his own manicipium—no lord has power over him unless he consents to that arrangement save his king alone. Elves sometimes refer to this as "direct subjugation," meaning they are directly the subjects of their king and no middle-man can interfere if the elf does not wish it.
What do elvish cities look like?
They are vast, though they are often equal to or lesser in population to mannish cities. Only the oldest parts of an elvish city would even be recognizable as a city to most men or dwarves. The further one gets from the heart of the city, the more green space one finds. Elvish roads meander this way and that, garden-like, through meadows and stands of trees. Elvish homes tend to be rambling affairs of stone built in the so-called "courtyard" style.
The elven lower classes generally attach themselves to a lord in the city, living on their estate and within their courtyard-house if they can. Those who cannot and are too poor to build houses of their own generally erect temporary structures in the wide green garden-spaces of the city. Much industry is done out of doors, and even in the most calcified hearts of the eldest elvish settlements one will find trees and patches of grass between the stone structures.
Elves also build in wood, though they treat it with special oils and waxes to give it longevity. Their structures tend to bely a sense of unearthly grace, slenderness, and almost impossible beauty. Some scholars speculate that there are spells holding up the most impossible of elvish towers, and its true that a school of architectural magic has grown up amongst the elves: warding, preserving, and balancing spells that mannish mages would scoff at as a waste of time.
Do elves have towns?
Not as we know them. The closest thing to an elvish "town" is generally a cluster of buildings that happen to be placed nearby. While regional justice falls under the manicipius of the local lord, they cannot act without permission from the council of common folk that must be then assembled to ratify or nullify their decrees.
These loosely affiliated groups are known to the elves as towns though it may be hard for men to recognize them as such. These towns are generally comprised of a temple, a number of smallholder's farms or settlements, and anywhere between no and three small elvish noble-men's manses. Unlike mannish nobles, the elvish do not extract tax from anyone—their only income that even approaches the tax-in-kind of mannish kingdoms are the great fields worked by servants who live within their house itself.
What is elvish law like?
The elves aren't too keen on written law. Customary law is by far the more common and there is no such thing as an elvish jurist. Trials are either conducted before the king himself or, if the case doesn't warrant this, before a jury of elves chosen by the defendant, the accuser, and the local lord. Elvish trials aim at fairness and reasonable outcome, not strict adherence or dogmatic application of law.
Note that this segment deals exclusively with wind elves and touches not upon wood, silver, or refuser elves.
Do elves really have peasants? Servants?
Elvish society is filled with farmers and servants. However, what this means to an elf is far different from what it means to a man. One of the important things to recognize is that the elvish states rely on citizen-militias, assuming that every single elf within them is a potential soldier. Unlike a mannish levee, these militiamen are at least somewhat trained in swordplay (thanks to the paidea), making them far more competent.
Even elvish servants and farmers believe themselves to be essentially "free." Obligations can be broken easily in elvish society and there are no ironclad contracts. While a Milean man might be "servile" and thus unable to engage in certain types of transactions, even the meanest and basest servant in an elvish kingdom is under his own manicipium—no lord has power over him unless he consents to that arrangement save his king alone. Elves sometimes refer to this as "direct subjugation," meaning they are directly the subjects of their king and no middle-man can interfere if the elf does not wish it.
What do elvish cities look like?
They are vast, though they are often equal to or lesser in population to mannish cities. Only the oldest parts of an elvish city would even be recognizable as a city to most men or dwarves. The further one gets from the heart of the city, the more green space one finds. Elvish roads meander this way and that, garden-like, through meadows and stands of trees. Elvish homes tend to be rambling affairs of stone built in the so-called "courtyard" style.
The elven lower classes generally attach themselves to a lord in the city, living on their estate and within their courtyard-house if they can. Those who cannot and are too poor to build houses of their own generally erect temporary structures in the wide green garden-spaces of the city. Much industry is done out of doors, and even in the most calcified hearts of the eldest elvish settlements one will find trees and patches of grass between the stone structures.
Elves also build in wood, though they treat it with special oils and waxes to give it longevity. Their structures tend to bely a sense of unearthly grace, slenderness, and almost impossible beauty. Some scholars speculate that there are spells holding up the most impossible of elvish towers, and its true that a school of architectural magic has grown up amongst the elves: warding, preserving, and balancing spells that mannish mages would scoff at as a waste of time.
Do elves have towns?
Not as we know them. The closest thing to an elvish "town" is generally a cluster of buildings that happen to be placed nearby. While regional justice falls under the manicipius of the local lord, they cannot act without permission from the council of common folk that must be then assembled to ratify or nullify their decrees.
These loosely affiliated groups are known to the elves as towns though it may be hard for men to recognize them as such. These towns are generally comprised of a temple, a number of smallholder's farms or settlements, and anywhere between no and three small elvish noble-men's manses. Unlike mannish nobles, the elvish do not extract tax from anyone—their only income that even approaches the tax-in-kind of mannish kingdoms are the great fields worked by servants who live within their house itself.
What is elvish law like?
The elves aren't too keen on written law. Customary law is by far the more common and there is no such thing as an elvish jurist. Trials are either conducted before the king himself or, if the case doesn't warrant this, before a jury of elves chosen by the defendant, the accuser, and the local lord. Elvish trials aim at fairness and reasonable outcome, not strict adherence or dogmatic application of law.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Changeless Peasants and Nothing to Do OR Rural D&D
Those little towns are always so boring. Peasants go about their unchanging, bucolic lifestyle. They till the earth, they eat some bread, they go to sleep. Ho hum. Right?
WRONG. Here's some things that are constantly going on in villages:
Lawsuits
There are a huge number of reasons one party might be suing another. IN general, these suits are probably being considered by the local lord's curia. While they drag on (witnesses must be found and called, records dredged up from local monasteries and clerical institutions, etc.) the participants can find themselves either in friendly circumstances (Oh, tis just trifling matter of business) or not so friendly ones (murder mystery!).
* Suing over boundaries on adjacent properties
* Suing on property which must change hands due to: time stipulated rental, failure to pay rent, death of a renter/owner
* Suing over taxes because: the lord believes the villein/local customarily pays more than he has been, the villein/local believes he is customarily entitled to pay less (note that this "payment" may be in cash but is more likely that its in "kind" -- butter, salt fish, grains, labor, etc.)
* Suing over a lord's seizure of property for personal use
* Suing for damages due to public slander
* Suing for damages due to theft/harassment
* Suing for damages due to daughter-stealing (a patriarch who didn't give his permission before his daughter married? Scandal!)
Rivalries
These can be the result on ongoing or past lawsuits, but also may spring up due to conflicting personalities or interests. Even small towns can host rivalries of some sort or another, from the simple, simmering, "I hate you" that people who live nearby in small towns can get to full blown feuds. Hell, that could even be an adventure hook. And we don't have to be talking about major players here—a local virgater who despises the miller (or smith, or reeve, or hayward, or ale-connor) can be just as interesting, complex, and amusing as two noble families both alike in dignity.
Local Unrest
Outlaws! They aren't bandits (necessarily) but they certainly do tend to rob people and make things unpleasant. Bandits! They are bandits, so there's that. Invasions! Neighboring lordships (or kingdoms) might be doing battle nearby! Always exciting.
Trials
It's always possible that someone is being tried in something other than a lawsuit. Murder, breaking the king's peace, those kinds of things. This is a bit rarer and much less normative than the general low level of lawsuits going on in a village.
Markets
Marketing days don't necessarily come all the time. Weekly, monthly, bi-monthly, yearly markets are all possible. Preparing for market, going to market (if its not in the current town), returning from market, and mixing marketing days with any other manner of issue (theft, lawsuits, rivalries) can spice things up considerably.
WRONG. Here's some things that are constantly going on in villages:
Lawsuits
There are a huge number of reasons one party might be suing another. IN general, these suits are probably being considered by the local lord's curia. While they drag on (witnesses must be found and called, records dredged up from local monasteries and clerical institutions, etc.) the participants can find themselves either in friendly circumstances (Oh, tis just trifling matter of business) or not so friendly ones (murder mystery!).
* Suing over boundaries on adjacent properties
* Suing on property which must change hands due to: time stipulated rental, failure to pay rent, death of a renter/owner
* Suing over taxes because: the lord believes the villein/local customarily pays more than he has been, the villein/local believes he is customarily entitled to pay less (note that this "payment" may be in cash but is more likely that its in "kind" -- butter, salt fish, grains, labor, etc.)
* Suing over a lord's seizure of property for personal use
* Suing for damages due to public slander
* Suing for damages due to theft/harassment
* Suing for damages due to daughter-stealing (a patriarch who didn't give his permission before his daughter married? Scandal!)
Rivalries
These can be the result on ongoing or past lawsuits, but also may spring up due to conflicting personalities or interests. Even small towns can host rivalries of some sort or another, from the simple, simmering, "I hate you" that people who live nearby in small towns can get to full blown feuds. Hell, that could even be an adventure hook. And we don't have to be talking about major players here—a local virgater who despises the miller (or smith, or reeve, or hayward, or ale-connor) can be just as interesting, complex, and amusing as two noble families both alike in dignity.
Local Unrest
Outlaws! They aren't bandits (necessarily) but they certainly do tend to rob people and make things unpleasant. Bandits! They are bandits, so there's that. Invasions! Neighboring lordships (or kingdoms) might be doing battle nearby! Always exciting.
Trials
It's always possible that someone is being tried in something other than a lawsuit. Murder, breaking the king's peace, those kinds of things. This is a bit rarer and much less normative than the general low level of lawsuits going on in a village.
Markets
Marketing days don't necessarily come all the time. Weekly, monthly, bi-monthly, yearly markets are all possible. Preparing for market, going to market (if its not in the current town), returning from market, and mixing marketing days with any other manner of issue (theft, lawsuits, rivalries) can spice things up considerably.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Living Towns and the Medieval Mind
There has been a lot written about creating good sites of adventure, and some written about building good cities, and even a few articles here and there about building good towns. This falls into the latter category, since town-building is something that I do often.
When I was first introduced to D&D it was by reading the supplements for things like Forgotten Realms. I always felt as though my own personal creations should strive to match things like the Guide to Shadowdale in terms of completeness and detail. Thus, even from a very young age as a DM I liked to map out my towns and to write down the names and some details about the personalities of all the major NPCs. If I miss anyone or anything important, I name them in play and immediately add that name to the list of town-NPCs for later so that the next time PCs come to that place the NPCs haven't radically changed.
One of the tools that I've found extremely helpful is the (by now probably very well known) article on Medieval Demographics by S. John Ross. It serves as a good tool of approximation for many kinds of amenities a town, village, or city might have. However, without some basic knowledge of how a medieval township might have operated, you're as good as spitting in the wind: you may hit what you want, but more likely you'll just wind up covered in spit.
Again, we approach the problem of the sliding or mobile time-period. There's nothing that is steadfastly "medieval," since the medieval encompasses so many different periods, developments, etc. For myself, I focus on the 12th and 13th century for the central kingdoms of Arunia, with more far-flung places tending either towards totally fantastical formations or things more redolent of the 8th and 9th centuries.
When I was first introduced to D&D it was by reading the supplements for things like Forgotten Realms. I always felt as though my own personal creations should strive to match things like the Guide to Shadowdale in terms of completeness and detail. Thus, even from a very young age as a DM I liked to map out my towns and to write down the names and some details about the personalities of all the major NPCs. If I miss anyone or anything important, I name them in play and immediately add that name to the list of town-NPCs for later so that the next time PCs come to that place the NPCs haven't radically changed.
One of the tools that I've found extremely helpful is the (by now probably very well known) article on Medieval Demographics by S. John Ross. It serves as a good tool of approximation for many kinds of amenities a town, village, or city might have. However, without some basic knowledge of how a medieval township might have operated, you're as good as spitting in the wind: you may hit what you want, but more likely you'll just wind up covered in spit.
Again, we approach the problem of the sliding or mobile time-period. There's nothing that is steadfastly "medieval," since the medieval encompasses so many different periods, developments, etc. For myself, I focus on the 12th and 13th century for the central kingdoms of Arunia, with more far-flung places tending either towards totally fantastical formations or things more redolent of the 8th and 9th centuries.
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