relationships with representatives of both Throal and the Blood Wood, currently the two largest po- litical powers near Parlainth. Both King Varulus and the Blood Warders of Blood Wood hunger for artifacts, information, and magic from the ruins, and will pay well any adventurers who can secure such items. Both the elves of Blood Wood and the King of Throal will often hire adventurers to enter and search any ruins rumored to contain an ancient treasure. Would-be heroes venturing into Parlainth from Haven must often contend not only with the monsters, Horrors, and ancient magical traps scattered throughout the ruins, but also other adventurers racing to claim their prize.
Rumor says that Haven also houses Theran spies and informants who look for ancient Theran treasure that remains in Parlainth and report any unusual activities within the Forgotten City to the Overgovernor at Sky Point. This rumor seems likely to be true. Parlainth was once a Theran city, and probably holds many secrets of Thera’s past.
—Merrox, Master of the Hall of Records
Iopos
Iopos lies some 38 days’ walk and 23 days’ ride from Throal. Crouched on the northern edge of the province, Iopos presents the greatest internal threat to the power of Throal (the Theran Empire is, of course, the greatest external threat). The city is ruled by a family of magicians Named the De- nairastas, an ancient bloodline whose members governed the city through the Scourge. Their success in keeping the city safe bound the loy- alty of the city’s people to their magically gifted overlords. To this day, the Denairastas can do
whatever they please with nary a word of com- plaint from the populace.
Those few who dare protest are quickly crushed by the Holders of Trust, retainers loyal to the De- nairastas who serve as both guards and informers. The guards of the Holders of Trust wear silver armor and carry large swords, presenting a vis- ible and constant reminder of the family’s power and authority. These guards will punish any ac- cused dissenters brought to them by their spies. Charged with seeking out dissent, these spies are not formally identified as Holders of Trust, but walk as ordinary citizens among the people, ever alert for signs of complaint or dissatisfaction with the rule of the Denairastas. At a word from the informants, the guards move swiftly to arrest or kill all known or suspected dissidents.
To see this city is to see what our world would look like if the Scourge had never befallen us. The buildings seem to sparkle in the sunlight; the streets are clean, the people happy. No one speaks ill of anything, and all extol the grandeur and beauty of Iopos over any other place in Barsaive. From its outward appearance, Iopos seems a city in which the Passions dwell.
As pleasant as this city seems, a darkness lies be- neath its shining surface. As you know, I am noth- ing if not cautious. I have more than once felt as if someone were shadowing me, which is most strange, for I have done nothing but act the role of the rich merchant. By neither word nor deed have I behaved in such a manner as to arouse suspicion.
The Holders of Trust—the city militia, army, and secret police—are everywhere. All on the same day I saw two visiting merchants arrested, tried, and beheaded in the city center for not observing the law that one must give one percent of all profits to city leader Uhl Denairastas with the pledge, “Uhl is our leader, our beacon, our all.” They gave the money gladly, but refused to make the pledge. And it was one of their own workers who turned them in. These merchants came from Jerris and have never been to Iopos before! I tell you, I have not seen such brutality in the guise of order since the dark days of Theran rule!
—From the last missive of Slock, Thief Adept and spy of the city of Kratas
The Holders of Trust have few occasions to pun- ish offenders, however. Most citizens of Iopos feel loyalty to the point of fanaticism for their rulers; people commonly compare members of the De- nairastas family to the Passions. When outsiders question this exaggeration, the citizens simply smile, as if they alone know the answer to a deep and im- portant secret.
I advise visitors to the city to keep any ques- tions or criticisms of Denairastas family politics to themselves.
The Denairastas willfully abuse the worship of their subjects. Whereas cruel Theran masters whip their slaves to death, the people of Iopos work them- selves to death of their own free will. Whatever the Denairastas family asks, the people will give, and the Denairastas demand a great deal. Scores of men and women die while mining magical elements, and the city’s army is nearly suicidal in its valor. Parents compete to offer their own children for the Blood Magic rites the Denairastas sometimes practice.
More than one adventurer who volunteered to research Iopos was arrested, tried, and sentenced to death all within two short hours for no greater offense than seeking a firmer understanding of how the Denairastas command such loyalty. —Kern Redhand, Historian of Throal
The Denairastas have sworn to defeat both Throal and Thera, to take their power for themselves. Be- cause Iopos lies so far from Theran influence, the city has turned its attention to disrupting the trade and state negotiations that King Varulus’ agents are conducting in his effort to unite Barsaive. The Holders of Trust form Iopos’ front line in this effort, going into communities across Barsaive and sowing discontent through murder and destruction. They are skilled at disguising their work to look like the random violence of ork scorchers or crystal raiders, and choose their victims carefully.
The Denairastas’ special interest in magic leads some Throalic scholars to speculate that certain living legend cults may be fronts for the family’s goals, by which the Denairastas draw unwary peo- ple into their scheme of acquiring lost artifacts and knowledge. Iopos possesses a rich reserve of magical
elements, collected by airships sent across Barsaive to mine elemental fire from Death’s Sea and elemen- tal air from the skies. The city’s supply of elemen- tal earth and wood hints at secret expeditions into Blood Wood, though I dared not seek proof for fear of arrest for asking the wrong questions.
More than 100,000 people live in Iopos. The city’s fleet of airships consists of three galleys and six drak- kars. Three shipping companies also do business within the city, giving Denairastas another addi- tional six drakkars should he require their services. I saw dozens of workers collapse from exhaustion while building a new palace for Uhl Denairastas. I learned later that two of them had actually died in service to their ruler.
—J’role the Honorable Thief
Jerris
The city of Jerris lies some 38 days’ walk or 23 days’ ride from Throal. Jerris occupies a peculiar place in the physical and spiritual geography of Barsaive. Located at the western edge of the province, the city huddles between the edge of the vast Wastes that cut us off from the rest of the world on one side and a huge, unexplored jungle on the other. Because the city borders on so much unexplored land, many people wonder if Jerris marks the border of Horror- filled lands, or perhaps actually lies within them.
The dark smoke that blows from the Wastes swirls perpetually through the streets of Jerris, rarely al- lowing the sun to shine brightly upon its citizens. The smoke looks and feels ashy, though no one has yet discovered its true nature. Visitors to Jer- ris who walk through the shadowed streets quickly discover an odd taste on their tongue, as if they had eaten cinders.
To me, the taste suggests something indefinable—perhaps the taste of nightmares. (This observation lacks any real relevance to the discussion of ashes, I know, but there it is.)
—Merrox, Master of the Hall of Records
The people of Jerris are a brooding, temperamen- tal lot. As in any other city, the streets of Jerris are usually filled with people, but unlike the throngs in
other cities, the people of Jerris walk silently with their gaze turned toward the ground. This habit seems to infect everyone who stays too long within the city’s walls. An air of listlessness seems to hang over the city, but make no mistake: however tired the people of Jerris may appear, they are easily moved to extremes of passion. Tears flow freely, whether of sorrow or joy. Blades are drawn easily and blood swiftly spilled, whether for money or love. Oddly, these passionate actions rarely inspire the slight- est interest from people witnessing such outbursts. Many scholars, and certain less-educated groups, have suggested that the city is cursed in some way. According to one rumor, the Hand of Corruption believes that the city rests on a wound in the earth and is a physical manifestation of
a spiritual illness in our world. The Seekers of Pure Flesh, a gruesome living legend cult, agree with this theory. They suggest that the city can
be saved by gathering bits of flesh from those who died for love. The
Seekers have brought bucketfuls of flayed skin to Jerris, where it is stored in a pit under the town hall. So far,
however, the magistrate of Jerris has refused to allow them to perform their homespun ritual.
Those of a more pragmatic bent believe that the ash filtering over the city from the Wastes has blighted the people’s hearts. None of these theories, however, can tell us what the ash is or from where it blows among the Wastes.
—Kern Redhand, Historian of Throal
Common wisdom in Barsaive says that strange creatures—perhaps Horrors—roam the city’s streets at night, unnoticed by the people of Jerris, who can- not see these creatures through some strange effect peculiar to the city. Strange incidents support these stories. For example, certain tales say that every week ten people simply vanish in the night. Though such a claim is undoubtedly an exaggeration—the city
would soon be empty if it were true—it is an ex- aggeration of truth. People do vanish in Jerris. Yet another mystery shrouds those rare occasions when someone is found murdered in their sleep, torn apart with what appear to be sharp daggers—or claws.
Why do people live in Jerris if they must suffer such miseries? In a word, money. Despite its grim aspect and filthy appearance, the city is home to wealthy merchants and airship builders. Though far from Barsaive’s main trade routes, the city trans- ports many goods from place to place throughout the province. Because strong air currents pass over Jerris, a merchant’s ships can reach stops on the main trade routes quickly. This advantage allows the mer- chants of Jerris to serve both the t’skrang and the kingdom of Throal as hired shipping agents. The air-
ship builders also sell drakkars to towns and private merchants throughout the province. The city also makes considerable profit mining elemental air.
Not everyone is content with business in Jerris, how-
ever. The trading houses seek to stop the airship build- ers from selling drakkars
outside of the city, fearing (with reason) that if air- ships become commonly available elsewhere in Bar- saive, no longer will their services as shippers be in demand. The city’s elemental air mining operations face constant threats from crystal raiders and the Therans, though the Therans are the greater threat of the two. Rather than simply raid- ing for cargo, the Therans try to sink new airships as soon as they float, most likely in an attempt to control Barsaive’s ability to defend against or attack the Theran armada. The Therans recently launched several air attacks against Jerris, to which the city responded by imposing a new tax on its citizens to finance construction of an airship fleet designed to protect the city.
At this writing, the city’s fleet consists of one galley and four drakkars. The merchant fleets total another 15 drakkars, which the magistrate can command to defend Jerris. The total population of the city numbers 80,000.
Kratas
Kratas lies 15 days’ walk or 9 days’ ride from Throal. Located in the center of Barsaive, the city of Kratas serves as a crossroads of information and stolen goods. Despite its location near almost all major trade routes, few honest merchants pass through the city, for Kratas is ruled and run by thieves. Its people are the clever and desperate, the illegally wealthy and the horribly destitute of our province.
The site of an ancient citadel that fell to the Hor- rors during the Scourge, Kratas was crammed with treasures both magical and mundane when adven- turers rediscovered it, empty of survivors, soon after the end of the Scourge. Rumors of its treasures led countless expeditions of heroes and treasure-seek- ers to scour the ruins bare of wealth and monsters. Within a few years, the dark buildings became home to bandits seeking a home base between their raid- ing activities. Over time the bandits and thieves began to feel themselves a community, though a true government did not form in Kratas until the outbreak of the Theran War.
In the early days of the occupation, the Theran army demanded obedience from the thousands of thieves and cutthroats that called the ruins home. When Throal organized the resistance that rout- ed the Therans, the famous ork thief adept Gar- lthik One-Eye called together an army of his fellow thieves and chased the Therans out of Kratas. In their place, he appointed himself the city’s ruler and has served the city well despite his unconventional rise to power.
The self-interested nature of the criminals that populate the city prevents Kratas from taking ad- vantage of its accessibility to trade, and thus keeps it from developing into a true political power. Though the citadel of Kratas could easily hold some 100,000 people, Kratas’ population remains at roughly half that number. Bands of thieves conceal their activi- ties by constantly moving between empty neigh- borhoods, and only about a fifth of the population lives in fixed residences.
Kratas’ streets are dirty, shadowed by cracked and leaning stone and wood buildings. Though the city is inhabited by tens of thousands of people, the secre- tive nature of Kratas’ citizens often make the streets look deserted. Travelers can walk or ride hundreds
of yards in the middle of the day and see nary a soul, yet experience the eerie feeling that the shuttered windows and dark doorways have hundreds of eyes.
A strange loyalty binds the outlaws of Kratas to- gether and directs their mistrust and deceit against the rest of Barsaive. Odd as it may seem to honest cit- izens, most inhabitants of Kratas live there because it is the only place in Barsaive where they feel safe.
Besides the city’s many thieves and mercenaries, numerous craftsmen, merchants, and artisans also live in Kratas. These more law-abiding citizens live in fear of attacks that rarely come, but remain there despite the dangers because their services are more amply rewarded in Kratas than in other cities. The thieves of Kratas recognize that their city needs these people to sustain itself, and so they leave these honest citizens alone in their fierce competitions for control over the city’s neighborhoods. Merchants and crafts- men must remain carefully neutral in their dealings, however. More than one unfortunate ally of a bandit leader or witness to a terrible deed has ended his days lying in a dark back alley with his throat slit.
Some evidence hints that the leaders of the Keys of Death make their home in Kratas. No one can confirm this rumor, but anyone seeking the services of an expert assassin begins in Kratas. The city also supports a thriving black market for secrets and for stolen goods, especially elemental magic items. Spies who report to the leaders of Kratas are everywhere. Indeed, it is often said that “every secret in Barsaive is gossip in Kratas.” The only trade not permitted in Kratas is slavery.
…Today we entered Kratas, a miserable den of ruf- fians. I can scarce believe that I have come to this place, where tumbledown shacks lean over the litter-ridden streets like crippled old men and the very air smells of deceit. Did I not have a debt of honor to settle, I would ride straight home to father. But then again it is likely my hired “companions” would follow me and kill me for my purse unless I pay them.
We rode through an iron gate set in crumbling walls of lichen-eaten stone, paying ten silver pieces each for the privilege. That princely sum, of course, came from my pocket. The dirty streets smelted of rotting food. I saw a band of urchins splashing in the filthy sluice that ran down one side street; another band ran after us, shouting for coin. One grabbed my horse’s saddlebag and
tried to swing herself up behind me, but lost her grip and tumbled to the dirt. When she sat up, I saw she was laughing. The scrofulous little beast shouted some- thing after me, though I know not what. I swear they picked my pocket; I am missing a purse full of copper. I have scarce enough money left to pay the innkeeper, a surly sort who looks like he would as soon murder me as breathe.
Someone is at the door. Catulla the windling? Surely not—he cannot know that I have come to pay my debt. Who would dare disturb a gentleman at this dead hour of the night?
—From the journal of Shiellen Woodsong, eldest son of the Second Magistrate of Travar, found dead in the Drunken Dragon Inn A pragmatic thief, Garlthik One-Eye rules his city in a pragmatic fashion. When it suits the city’s pur- poses to help Throal, Garlthik supplies whatever is needed. If it better suits their purposes to rob a dwarf caravan, Garlthik’s subjects gladly loot and pillage.
Many gangs of thieves live in the city, some using it as a safe headquarters from which to raid the sur- rounding lands. Others steal only from those living within the city walls. Because it is their nature to covet what their neighbor has, gangs of thieves draw