Legends of Alyria

Company website now online

2007-07-10T20:24:00.000-05:00

Dark Omen Games now has its own website. Check out www.darkomengames.com for the latest news and information on Legends of Alyria, Dirty Secrets, and other Dark Omen products.

Legends of Alyria for sale at Indie Press Revolution

2007-02-19T16:31:00.000-06:00

A little Alyria news here. Now you can buy Legends of Alyria at Indie Press Revolution. Also, I hope to have more publishing news in the near future, so stay tuned!

Legends of Alyria for sale!

2006-11-28T10:51:00.000-06:00

Interested in owning a hard copy of Legends of Alyria? Just go to the Dark Omen Games page on Lulu to purchase your very own copy!

Legends of Alyria play reports

2006-11-28T10:08:00.000-06:00

This is where I will put links to any play reports for Legends of Alyria. If you wish to contribute, just leave a comment, and I'll edit this entry.

The Story of the Burning Plum

Welcome!

2005-08-04T20:05:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the Legends of Alyria blog! Within these pages you will find the entire text of the Legends of Alyria roleplaying game. You may ask, "Why did you decide to put this game into a blog?" I have a couple of answers for you.

First, while I like the idea of game design, increasingly I'm finding that I don't care for game production and promotion. I don't have the time, energy, or desire to put into it, at this point. However, I don't want my lack of desire to penalize those who actually want the text. So I'm *starting* with this website.

Second, I am hoping that the website will allow me to treat this edition of the rules as a beta. Moreover, I am wanting to experiment with the idea of allowing for game users to annotate the text, which is why I'm using a blog format and not a regular website. I had considered wiki, but it is too twitchy for me.

That all being said, I'm not ruling out the idea of a physical book. However, that will come in the future. For now, this is where Alyria will call home.

Now, a couple of ground rules. I welcome comments on any entry that allows them. There are two different sorts of comments that I envision. The first is editorial commentary. If you find that a passage is confusing or perhaps you discover (shock) a typo, please leave a comment. When I fix the issue in question, I will delete the comment to avoid confusing future readers.

The second sort of comment is your own thoughts and feedback about the subject matter. Write about how you used a particular setting element. Offer advice on certain rules applications. Leave other notes that you think will be helpful for other readers. However, I ask that you not engage in debates on this blog. The Alyria forum on the Forge is a better venue for such discussions.

As this is a living document, I welcome additions to the Alyria submitted by all of you. Contact me at greatwolf@gmail.com, and I will review your work. I do reserve the right to edit or reject material submitted to me.

Finally, if you have any suggestions on how to improve the overall presentation of this material, feel free to contact me.

To begin reading, select a section from the Table of Contents in the sidebar, or click here to read the entire rules.

Blood Moon Rising

2005-07-14T11:55:00.000-05:00

Art by Andy Tharp

Digger Paladin

2005-07-14T09:27:00.000-05:00

"Digger Paladin" drawn by Jasper Polane

Dedication

1990-01-01T02:02:00.000-06:00

This game is dedicated to all those who gave their lives on September 11, 2001, so that others could live. You are the true heroes.

Quote page

1990-01-01T02:01:00.000-06:00

“And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.”
--John 1:5

Does the moon really possess such strange powers or is it all just lunacy?
--Godsmack, “Moon Baby”

Credits

1990-01-01T02:00:00.000-06:00

Written and designed by Seth Ben-Ezra

Additional material by Mark Eddy

Thanks to Scarlet Jester for his assistance with system design

Playtesters: Crystal Ben-Ezra, Gabrielle Ben-Ezra, Seth Ben-Ezra, Caitlin Coyne, Ron Edwards, Jens Fehn, Adiel Gardner, Joshua Gardner, Bernd Haberstumpf, Jörg John, Katrin Kockrow, Jürgen Mayer, Ralph Mazza, Jeremy McCabe, Elizabeth Otulokowski, Tom Otulokowski, Jason Petrini, Matt Weinberg

Clock Face graphics done by Raven Daegmorgan

"Blood Moon Rising" done by Andy Tharp

"Digger Paladin" done by Jasper Polane

"Uriel and houns" done by Jonathan Walton

Character sheet created by Ben Morgan

Introduction

1990-01-01T01:59:00.000-06:00

[Chapter 1]
(Forward to next section: Basic Concepts)
(Forward to next chapter: In the Beginning...)

Welcome to Legends of Alyria, a game of imagination set in the dark technofantasy world of Alyria. Legends of Alyria is a type of game normally called a roleplaying game (or RPG). Ironically, attempts to define roleplaying games usually fail. There are so many different ways to play and reasons that people enjoy these games that crafting a definition that includes them all is a challenge beyond the scope of this introduction. Besides, you didn't come here to read a long, dry dissertation about the history and taxonomy of roleplaying games. You want to play! So, as you read the definition and descriptions given later, remember that these are only the answers that apply to this game.

At the same time, those of you who are veteran roleplayers should take care to read this chapter. Legends of Alyria is played quite a bit differently from many other roleplaying games, and you will better appreciate the game if you understand its underlying assumptions.

(Forward to next section: Basic Concepts)
(Forward to next chapter: In the Beginning...)

Basic Concepts

1990-01-01T01:58:00.000-06:00

[Chapter 1]
(Back to Introduction)
(Forward to A Word on Theme and Mood)
(Forward to In the Beginning...)

What is Legends of Alyria about? It is about creating stories as a group. Together you and your fellow players will be crafting the legends of Alyria. Together you will create the heroes and the villains. Together you will see them struggle, watch them rise or fall, see them triumph or forever be destroyed. Not all of these legends will be epic in scale, but each one will be important, because it is important to you. There are no winners or losers in Legends of Alyria. There are only players, and a game is successful when everyone present has enjoyed the legend that was made.

You will craft this story by building a storymap with your fellow players and then taking on the role of one or more characters in that storymap. The process of building a storymap will provide you with all the characters for your legend as well as their context and relationships. This process leads to substantively different play than many other roleplaying games, where characters are all assumed to be on the same side. Not so in Legends of Alyria! Rather, both protagonists and antagonists are run by the players. In one legend, you may be the simple farmer, rallying the final defense of his village. In another legend, you may be the corrupt Keeper, twisting your religion to gain more power for yourself. In yet another legend, you may be the toy maker, cursed by a magic bag to create toys that kill. All can be played by players; none are off-limits.

Frequently, one of the players will take on the role of the Narrator. The Narrator is responsible to keep the game on track. He will organize play, run any characters that the other players do not wish to play, and maintain the pace and tempo of the game. Depending on the group, the Narrator role can be a permanent job, or different people can take on the role of the Narrator as the legend progresses.

The game is played out in the mind, using spoken descriptions. You will never see the rolling waves of clouds washing on the shore of the Sea of Mist. You will never stand in the black rain of the Citadel, hearing the thunderous crash of the bells of Kron. You will never face the horrifying face of a dragon or bow before a unicorn. And yet, through these words that I have written, you can see all of these in your mind’s eye. It is the same in the game. Each player describes what his character is doing, speaks his character’s words, and sometimes describes his character’s surroundings. Through these descriptions and verbal exchanges, the players participate in the legend being created.

Legends of Alyria is not a particularly rules-intensive game. However, there is one rule that is vital to the play of this game. Without understanding and agreeing to this rule, a group will not be able to play and enjoy Legends of Alyria. That rule is simply this: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Legends of Alyria gives a lot of power to its players. In some ways, each player wields power comparable to a Game Master in most other roleplaying games. However, players were not given this power so that they can be selfish and focus on their own desires and goals. No, they were given this power in order to create great legends for the other players. In order to be a good player in Legends of Alyria, you must be willing to put aside your own concerns and desires and play to those of your fellow players. Looking for a gripping combat scene but everyone else is getting bored? Move on. Ready to launch into a memorable soliloquy but no one else cares? Drop it. Someone else in the spotlight? Let him keep it. Legends of Alyria relies on the maturity and cooperation of the players in creating their legend. It would be a simple matter for one selfish player to destroy hours of enjoyment for everyone. If you are willing to look to others’ interests, rather than your own, you have the makings of a great Legends of Alyria player.

(Forward to A Word on Theme and Mood)
(Forward to In the Beginning...)

A Word on Theme and Mood

1990-01-01T01:57:00.000-06:00

[Chapter 1]
(Back to Introduction)
(Back to Basic Concepts)
(Forward to In the Beginning...)

Legends of Alyria is a big game, and getting a handle on it could be difficult. Many players may get to the end of these rules and ask, “Where do I get started?” Hopefully, this section will help you to understand this game in the right light, so that you will instead be asking, “When can I get started?”

Legends of Alyria is designed in the tradition of classic fantasy, and as such it is focused very narrowly on stories revolving around the conflict between Good and Evil. Legends of Alyria assumes that both Good and Evil can be objectively determined, although the situation may make this determination difficult. Legends of Alyria also assumes that the moral decisions that the characters make are the most important decisions in the legend, and, as such, they are given the most attention. At the same time, Legends of Alyria also assumes that every person is a mix of good and evil traits and that the struggle can be internal just as easily as it can be external. So, as you read about Alyria, view it through a moral lens, and build your legends accordingly.

Legends of Alyria also assumes a certain mood that could perhaps be phrased as “optimistic melancholy”. The mood of the game tends to be very introverted. Alyria is not as much about bulging muscles and furious action as it is about hard choices and quiet heroism. Also the setting itself is melancholy. There are flashes of brilliant hope and beauty, but so often these are obscured by the drifting mist. So, as you read about Alyria, view it through a melancholic lens, and build your legends accordingly.

Legends of Alyria assumes the existence and realities of true heroes. However, Legends of Alyria defines heroism first and foremost as sacrifice. A hero in Legends of Alyria is not the mighty warrior who slays a thousand foes by the might of his arm. Rather, he is the man who willingly yields to a shameful, agonizing death so that others might live. So, as you read about Alyria, view it through a heroic lens, and build your legends accordingly.

Finally, Legends of Alyria assumes that the creativity of the play group is paramount, not the creativity of the designer. Therefore many questions are left open for interpretation by you, the player. Where did the Outsiders come from? Where did the dragons come from? Are there other survivors from the original colony? What exactly is possible with Keeper tech? Legends of Alyria offers suggestions, but the answers are up to you. Moreover, there are many “blank areas” in Alyria that are yours to fill in as you like. Legends of Alyria provides inspiration, but the canvas is yours to paint. Once this game enters your hands, the world of Alyria becomes your playground. There are no hidden storylines, no overarching metaplot, no complex history to be memorized and implemented. The world is yours to use as you see fit. So, as you read about Alyria, remember that, above all else, it is your world.

And build your legends accordingly.

(Forward to In the Beginning...)

In The Beginning...

1990-01-01T01:56:00.000-06:00

[Chapter 2]
(Back to Introduction)
(Back to A Word on Theme and Mood)
(Forward to The Sea of Mist)

Legend speaks of another world, far from the shores of Alyria. Perhaps it was another planet. Perhaps it was Heaven itself. There the Progenitors lived in peace and harmony. But it was not fated to last. For the Outsiders rose up against the Progenitors and cast them from their home in the vault of the sky. Here, the legends conflict—some of the stories claim that the Outsiders descended upon them from the vast emptiness of space, but darker legends claim that the Progenitors delved into forbidden lore and released the dark menace. Whatever the source of these terrifying beings, the Outsiders drove out the Progenitors, forcing them to flee across the vault of Heaven to hide from their enemy.

Some of the Progenitors found this world: the world of Alyria. When they arrived, Alyria was formless and void. The air was not breatheable, and the land was desolate. Yet the Progenitors were not dismayed, for they brought with them many instruments of power. The Progenitors delved deep into the earth and constructed machines of great might to shape the world to their desires. To control these machines they built a great computer named Pheric. Many of the Progenitors operated this computer, maintained it and supervised its terraforming activity.

Slowly the land was tamed. The atmosphere became breathable. The violent storms that battered the land were tamed, bringing life and rain instead of destruction. Soon forests and grassy plains spread across the land. Where once the newcomers clustered in massive concrete bunkers or arcologies, now they built villages and cities, exulting in the wonder of the world which they had built. Yes, the raw, unfiltered atmosphere remained poisonous to them, held only at bay by Pheric and its terraforming machines—yet within the sphere of Pheric’s control, all was calm and peaceful.

The Progenitors built a culture of life and peace. Knowledge increased as scholars gathered into schools and built universities. Beauty was honored, and the cities were filled with trees and blooming flowers. No war was fought, as each man cared for his neighbor. The Progenitor culture reached its height with the construction of Kryshana. Once this city had been a harsh, sealed environment dome, with functional architecture. Now Kryshana was transformed into a beautiful city. Shade trees lined its avenues, where the scholar could walk, lost in thought, and young, carefree lovers strolled. Golden buildings rose towards the sky, welcoming the sun with upraised heads. And overhead arched the crystalline dome of Kryshana. No longer necessary, the dome was retained as an object of beauty and a monument to the past. Many were the poems written of this glittering gem of the Progenitors. Of all their creations, surely Kryshana was their greatest. It was a city of light, of beauty, of justice, of goodness, of truth.

And it is for these reasons that it was shattered.

No one understands the true nature of the dragons. Some state that they were the oldest lifeform native to Alyria and that the coming of the Progenitors disturbed their slumber. Others claim that the dragons are the darkest traits of mankind given physical form. Still others mutter that the dragons are demons, released from Hell before the proper time. Perhaps they are all correct. For in those joyous days, the dragons awoke. From their dwelling place deep in the Sea of Mist on the planet’s true surface, they felt the arrival of the Progenitors and hated them. For the dragons do not feed on flesh and blood but on the hatred, fear, and pain of others. The gentle reign of the Progenitors did not provide sufficient sustenance for them. So they began to weave their dark schemes to bring about the downfall of the Progenitors. It was far too easy.

For no man can be truly good, and even in this time of light and joy, darkness yet gnawed at men’s hearts. Some sought more power than their station permitted. Some wished more riches or land and grumbled in discontent. Others, it must be said, simply reveled in the thought of bloodshed or pain caused to another. The dragons could sense the darkness in these men’s heart. Appearing to them in their dreams, the dragons promised to fulfill their dark desires. Power to the power-hungry. Wealth to the greedy. Pain to the sadistic. And so it was, as the Progenitors’ golden age spread over the land, a dark force arose to oppose it. The cancer of the dragon cultists spread throughout the land, and when the moment was right, they struck.

A thousand thousand pages of agony and woe would not suffice to tell the tale of those days. Across the continent, the dragon cultists launched one coordinated attack, knocking out communication stations, destroying electrical generators, disabling terraforming processors, and disrupting roads and transportation. Resistance was weak at best. During the long ages of peace, the Progenitors had largely forgotten the harsh arts of war. So the dragon cultists had their way. In Kryshana, a worse desecration was performed. Cultists discovered the biological weaponry of the ancients that had been sealed away and detonated a bomb filled with ripper plague in the streets of the city. The trees withered, and the people began to die, ravaged by the terrible disease. Winds spread the plague far and wide. And then the dragons themselves attacked. Thousands poured from the Sea of Mist, ravaging and slaughtering. It is said that the sky rained fire and blood in those days. Men killed their loved ones before killing themselves, trying to spare them the horror of the ripper plague. Cultists mad with blood lust, swarmed through the ruins, raping and slaughtering, destroying and desecrating while overhead the dragons themselves hurled fire and drank deep of the carnage. The forests burned. The cities convulsed. And in the shattered ruins of the dome of Kryshana, a few survivors prayed for death. Legend claims that the crystal rain of shattered glass in Kryshana sounded like weeping as the city mourned her lost children and her own death.

It was not a war. It was not a conquest. It was a rape. The Rape of Alyria.

In the mountains, the scientists that tended Pheric saw what was happening. They saw their world being destroyed around them. Yet they knew that if there was to be any chance of victory, any chance of rebuilding, Pheric must survive. They made their difficult choice. Gathering as many refugees as possible, they retreated to their subterranean strongholds and sealed the entrances with explosives.

Yet not all was lost. The Progenitors still maintained their military force, ever vigilant for an attack from the stars. The stunning surprise attack destroyed much of their ability to communicate, yet here and there small units of troops resisted. Many were overrun. Yet some were successful in pushing back the cultists hordes. Many soldiers rallied to Kryshana, where the five supreme commanders of the armed forces personally led the defense of the city. For three long days battle raged in the streets of Kryshana. Bodies smouldered in the streets as howling lunatics raved in the burning ruins of the parks, their minds shattered by what they had seen. One by one the defenders died. Slowly they were pushed back. Slowly they were slaughtered.

And then the Lord of Pain arrived to take personal charge of the fight. If any could be called the leader of the dragons, it would be him. His mere presence was overwhelming. Men fled screaming as he swooped upon them, tearing them apart. But one man did not run. One man did not flee. As the Lord of Pain bore down upon him, he held his ground, waiting. And as the huge dragon bit him in half at the waist, he released the fusion grenade that he held. The explosion shattered the Lord of Pain.
Without their leader, the dragons were disorganized and confused, bereft of will and focus. Screaming with rage, they retreated into the Sea of Mist. Without the dragons, the cultists faltered in their attack. The defenders were able to rally. The cultists were cut down in droves. Soon they were in mass retreat, seeking refuge in the forests and hills of the wilderness.

But what remained to the survivors? The colony was shattered. Communication between cities was severed. Kryshana lay in smoking ruins. The dragons had been driven off, but their goal seemed to have been achieved.

The five generals took charge. They knew that no one could be spared to discover the fate of the rest of the colony. They would have to survive on their own. The generals made some difficult decisions. Kryshana would remain under martial law for the duration of the emergency. All food and critical supplies would be under military jurisdiction. Hoarding would be punishable by death. Every man would be required to perform part-time military service. Anyone demonstrating symptoms of the ripper plague would be summarily executed to prevent the disease from spreading. One day, they hoped that these measures would not be necessary. One day, life would return to normal.

One thousand years have passed since the Rape. Under the rulership of the Five Noble Houses, the Citadel has risen from the ruins of Kryshana. Within its walls, men bow down to Pheric, the god of Iron and Thunder, and pay homage to the Keepers, priests of this fearful god. Where trees and gardens once grew, now there stand factories, clanking and hissing. In the streets, animated by Pheric’s divine power, the Restored dead walk again. Above the city hangs the Web, a city within a city, a refuge for the criminal, the outcast, the Misbegotten, the Blessed. Mistships once again sail on the Sea of Mist, seeking new lands and new discoveries. The Citadel once again puts forth its might.

But all is not well in the world of Alyria. Far to the east, another nation has arisen. Tales speak of the Ark, where all the people wear masks to hide their faces and have no names. Monsters roam the wilderness, ravaging isolated villages and destroying trade caravans. Dragon cultists still worship in dark and hidden places and infiltrate the halls of power, seeking to return their masters to the surface. A schism has torn apart the Keeper faith, turning brother against brother and threatening to reveal the true nature of their god. The world is balanced on a knife’s edge.

And one night as the Dragon Winds howled through the Citadel, a new moon rose above the horizon. A red moon. A blood moon. And as it passed through the sky, a rain like blood fell upon the land, and those that saw it wept. For the sign was clear. The ancient enemy from the stars had discovered them. The Outsiders had returned.

Welcome to the world of Alyria.

(Forward to The Sea of Mist)

The Sea of Mist

1990-01-01T01:55:00.000-06:00

[Chapter 2]
(Back to In The Beginning...)
(Forward to The Citadel)

It begins with the sea. Standing on the shore, you find yourself surrounded by the mist. It ebbs and flows before you, washing like waves crashing on some terrestrial shore. Yet it is unlike any ocean that you have ever seen before. There is no roar of the surf, no seagull’s cry. All is silent. All is still. If you are very quiet, you can faintly hear the distant rumble of thunder in the depths of the Sea of Mist. An occasional flash of lightning illuminates the swirling mist, but for just a moment.

It is not always like this. Sometimes furious storms hurl themselves from the Sea to batter the land. Then lightning and thunder rage throughout the sky, and the rain lashes against all who would stand before it. And the wind… The wind screams its rage and bellows its anger as the storm’s blast pummels the land. Then no one is safe. Those on the land take refuge, and the sailor trapped at sea begs for mercy from the uncaring elements.

Yes, sailors. For wherever there is a Sea there will be those that sail it.

Giant mist ships voyage across the surface of the deep. Some bring trade goods to the Citadel from an outlying province. Others carry soldiers to war. And some turn their bow towards the unknown, sailing, sailing, sailing away, seeking adventure. Sometimes, they even return.

Little is known of the Sea of Mist, and questions and rumors abound. It is said that the dragons live beneath the surface of the Sea of Mist, still scheming and plotting to regain the world that they have lost. It is said that other strange creatures roam the Sea, creatures made from cloud. It is said that sailors go mad on their voyages, their minds destroyed by the swirling, swirling, swirling of the mist. It is said that other lands await the conquest, that the world is so much bigger than believed. It is said that the ocean opens its arms wide to welcome sailors to its misty embrace.

So much is said, so much is believed. And yet, in the face of the awesome, stunning reality of it all, the questions halt, the answers cease clamoring, and you are left in stunned amazement, lost in the wonder and the fury.

(Forward to The Citadel)

The Citadel

1990-01-01T01:51:00.000-06:00

(Back to In The Beginning...)
(Back to The Sea of Mist)
(Forward to The Commoners)
(Forward to The Web)

Somewhere on the western coast of Alyria, between the Sea and the mountains, lies the Citadel. Once a monument to knowledge, now it is filled with the detritus of broken dreams and vain promise. Once dedicated to beauty, now it is an iron fortress filled with ruined buildings. Once devoted to righteousness, now it is a nation of oppression, a place where unwanted refuse dangles from makeshift shelters over the darkened city streets. Once a haven of light, now it is a city of darkness, a place where the dead walk the streets, reanimated by the power of a harsh god.

It always seems to be raining in the Citadel. Storms sweep off the Sea of Mist with frightening regularity, hammering the city with an iron rain. Lightning flashes and crackles overhead, striking into the massive Arches that tower over the city or into one of the many vacant skyscrapers that stand guard throughout the Citadel.

Machines have taken over the Citadel, filling it with the sounds of clanking, grinding, and hissing. Gritty soot covers the buildings and the streets, residue from the smoke stacks that belch angry fumes at the sky. Some days the rain itself is black with soot. And every day, thousands of people arise and go to their stations, prepared to service the machines. Life runs to the tick of a metronome.

Yet it is this very Citadel that is the ruling power on Alyria. Its armies keep the peace for miles around and under its protection civilization has begun to struggle back to life. Even the lands beyond the Citadel’s rule experience some of the blessing of its iron rule.

The Citadel--The Commoners

1990-01-01T01:50:00.000-06:00

For the vast majority of the inhabitants of the Citadel, life is harsh, cruel, and pointless. Grey-cloaked to keep off the rain, faces wrapped in scarves to keep out the grit, they trudge through life, empty and dispirited. Many have never been outside the walls of the Citadel, and they will die in the shadow of these iron buildings.

Every day hundreds die. Some are killed in accidents in the factories. Others are slaughtered by ill-tempered Noble Born for failing to bow quickly enough to show proper respect. Still others die from the polluted air, coughing until their lungs bleed. They are cattle, and they are slaughtered like cattle.

Yet there are those who refuse to surrender to their fate. Among the commoners, many revolutionary causes are stirring. Some fight to free the Restored or legitimize the Misbegotten. Others seek to improve working conditions. Still others murmur of revolt against the Noble Houses. Both the militia and the warriors of the Noble Houses have been kept quite busy putting down these threats. Who knows? One day the common people may awaken with a new resolve and discover that they are strong.

The Citadel--The Merchants

1990-01-01T01:49:00.000-06:00

As the Citadel has grown more prosperous, there have been those among the commoners who have managed to take advantage of the changing times. They have discovered the profit that can be earned by fulfilling the needs and desires of the rich.

And so, a new merchant class is emerging in the Citadel. Compared to the common rabble that throngs the streets, even the poorest of the rising middle-class is well off. Many merchants have been accepted into noble society. Indeed, some Noble-born have borrowed large amounts of money to these merchants, leaving them indebted to these commoners. A few of the wealthiest merchants have estates that rival the Noble Houses. These merchants wield much power.

And yet, they are still not nobility. They must still bow their heads to the Noble-born that pass them by in the streets, and their lives are still forfeit if they disobey. Most accept their lot in life, working hard to maintain the position that they have earned. However, mutters of discontent rumble through the marketplaces and guildhalls of the Citadel. The winds of change are blowing, and the storm may soon break over the Noble Houses.

The Citadel--The Noble Houses

1990-01-01T01:48:00.000-06:00

To be born into a Noble House is to be born a warrior. Like the knights and samurai of ancient legend, the Noble-born are trained to wage the wars of their lord and to serve his every desire. Each Noble House has different traditions that have evolved over time, yet there are some common threads.

The Noble-born can be identified by their long braids. The women have many braids, each one entwined with gold or copper chain. On the other hand, the men have a single braid that they never cut. These braids are a symbol of their willingness to die for their lord. For a Noble-born to shave off his braid is an act of unthinkable rebellion. One story tells of a Noble-born warrior who wished to protest one of his lord’s decisions. The warrior entered the throne room of his lord and, with his own sword, cut off the braid and threw it at his lord’s feet. The story does not tell of the fate of this warrior.

Although the Noble-born are trained to obedience and service, they also expect similar treatment from those beneath them on the social ladder. Peasants and members of the rising merchant class are expected to show all respect to the Noble-born and to obey any orders given to them without question. Those that fail to do so will find themselves being challenged to a duel of honor, an acceptable method of settling such matters. Such a contest invariably ends in the commoner’s death. Sometimes, a Noble-born is not willing to wait until the duel and takes matters into his own hands. Rare is the day that sees no commoner blood spilled by a Noble-born’s sword.

Initiation: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:47:00.000-06:00

The door slid open with a crash. Echoes reverberated off the unseen walls and ceiling. Darkness clung to the pillars in the large hall, only dispelled by a single patch of light resting on a golden altar to Pheric at the far end of the hall. Nothing else could be seen.

The novice took a trembling breath. This was it. After so much training and work, so much sacrifice and agony, all that remained was his Initiation. Shaking a bit, he stepped into the hall. His bare feet slapped quietly against the metal floor. A chill breeze raised goose bumps on his exposed flesh. "Remember the ritual,” he muttered to himself. "Remember the ritual." Taking another breath, he began to stride toward the altar. "Hold up your head,” he told himself. "You are about to become a member of the Five Hundred. Act like it!" Slowly he gathered his composure. By the time he reached the golden altar, his head was held high and his visage was proud. He was ready.

A voice boomed from the shadows. "Who comes to join the ranks of the Five Hundred?"

The novice responded as required, "I am Shirita, and I come to join the Five Hundred."

The voice boomed again, "To join the Five Hundred requires that you leave everything behind. Your name is forfeit. Your dignity is forfeit. Your life is forfeit. Are you willing to make this sacrifice?"

"I am."

A shape flowed from the shadows. The novice could see that it was a spiculum of the Five Hundred, his quicksilver armor dully reflecting the dim light. Standing next to the novitate, he extruded a sword. "Novice,” the spiculum said, "you are stripped of your name." With a clean swipe, he cut off the braid reflecting the novice's noble birth. "You are stripped of your dignity." Shorn in two, the novice's loin cloth joined the braid on the floor, leaving him naked. "You are stripped of your very life." A bloody streak appeared on the novice's chest, deftly traced by the blade's keen edge. He did not even have time to wince before it was done.

Another shape emerged from the shadows. The High Lord strode into the light and stood in front of the altar, facing the novitate. "Nameless one, you aspire to a high calling. Since the birth of Alyria, the Five Hundred have stood watch over its children, guarding against both dragon and Outsider. Some even trace our lineage back to the world of the Progenitors, who descended from heaven, bringing with them the mighty Pheric (blessed be)." The novice instinctively murmured, "Blessed be" and was shocked to hear the same phrase murmured throughout the room. Despite its appearance, the room was quite full.

"Nameless one, it is time for you to take your final vows." One of the guards handed a golden chalice to the High Lord. "Hold out your right hand,” he commanded. The novice did as he was bid. The High Lord drew a dagger and sliced open the novice's hand. "Let the blood flow into the chalice,” he commanded. Then he did the same to his own hand. Silence filled the room, broken only by the patter of blood dripping into the chalice.

When the chalice was full, the High Lord handed it to the novice. "Drink,” he commanded. "It is the mingling of blood." The novice drank as he was commanded. The coppery, metallic tang nauseated him, but he managed a small sip. Taking the chalice from him, the High Lord also drank. Then he placed the chalice on the altar and picked up a small crystal vial.

The novice stared at the vial in awe. In it, something silver pulsated and writhed. It almost looked alive. The High Lord spoke. "Nameless one, this is the chrism of the Five Hundred. With it, you will be given the armor of the ancients and the power of the Progenitors will pulse in your veins. Kneel, and receive your chrism."

Closing his eyes, the novice knelt before the High Lord. Without another word, the High Lord poured the vial onto the novice.

He screamed.

He felt as though his very nerves were on fire. "It burns!" he cried. "It burns!" He could feel the silvery substance spreading over his body, burning as it went. It was in his eyes! It was in his nose! Penetrating his skin, setting his hair ablaze! Burning, burning, burning!

And with a jolt, it was over. The pain vanished and cool relief washed over his body. In shock, the novice opened his eyes. His skin had become quicksilver. Now he understood the secret of the Five Hundred. Their armor was a living part of them! He could feel its soothing chill surrounding him, protecting him, shielding him. He could feel his wounds closing as the armor worked its magic. Slowly, he stood.

“It is not fitting that one of the Five Hundred should be nameless,” intoned the High Lord. “Therefore, you shall receive your names. First, you shall receive your bearer name. When the Progenitors came from beyond the stars, many mighty warriors bestrode the land. This armor was first borne by PFC Robert DuLang. Upon his death, his burden was passed to another, and down through the ages his burden comes to you. Therefore your bearer name will be PFC Robert DuLang. Carry it well, for you carry his honor with you.”

The spiculum who stood next to the novice then spoke. “It falls to me to present to you your squad name. We who have stood by you in training have seen your tireless effort and endurance. Like a mighty oak you have weathered all that has been hurled at you and yet remained unbowed. Therefore, we give to you the squad name of Oak. Carry it well, for you carry our honor with you.”

With a gesture of invitation, the High Lord held out his hands. “Come; join us in the sharing of blood. Be bound to your new brother, Oak.” One by one the spicula flowed from the shadows, embracing Oak and tasting of the chalice. Oak embraced each in turn, overwhelmed. These were his new brothers. Already the memories of his old life were fading. Tomorrow he would awaken as a spiculum of the Five Hundred, a true warrior.

The Citadel--The High Lords

1990-01-01T01:46:00.000-06:00

Five High Lords rule the Citadel, each the supreme leader of a Noble House. These Noble Houses are the descendents of the original five military units that were stationed in the Citadel. Originally their rule was to be temporary. But as the struggle for survival after the Rape stretched on for years, and then decades, the people became accustomed to military rule. Military expediency begat military politics. The five generals became the first High Lords and founded their Noble Houses, passing their titles down to their descendents.

Each High Lord has control of a certain section of the Citadel, which he administers. The warriors of his household are responsible for maintaining the peace in his territory, and he is expected to extract taxes from those living in his territory. For all intents and purposes, each High Lord is supreme in his own territory.

However, many situations affect the Citadel as a whole. Therefore the High Lords meet as the High Council to decide such matters. Normally a Keeper sits on the Council as well, although he cannot vote. Each High Lord only gets one vote; none wields more power than any other. At least, this is the theory. In reality, many times throughout the Citadel’s history one High Lord has wielded enough influence to bend the entire Council to his will. The Council Chamber is in a neutral part of the Citadel, and, by tradition, each High Lord is only permitted a small honor guard. Traditionally, the Council Chamber is free from violence and bloodshed, but traditions are sometimes broken.

The Citadel--The Keepers

1990-01-01T01:45:00.000-06:00

The Noble Houses are not the only power that shapes the Citadel. The Keepers also wield influence within the city of Iron.

From time immemorial there have been the Keepers, servants of Pheric (blessed be) and bearers of his words. The earliest Keepers served him at the Core, the first temple of the god of Iron and Thunder, carved by the Progenitors themselves. During the Rape, these Keepers sealed themselves into the Core that this most holy place might be preserved. Five generations passed while the Keepers waited for the surface to become safe. Finally they emerged into a changed world. This world knew nothing of the mighty Pheric (blessed be) or his servants. So the Keepers sent out missionaries to spread the message of Pheric (blessed be). The Keepers claim that these missionaries traveled the length and breadth of the land and that there is no place on all of Alyria that has not felt the tread of a faithful Keeper. Certainly they traveled far. Many never returned. Some were consumed by ravenous beasts. Others were martyred. Still others died from disease and infection. Still, more and more Keepers left the Core, wearing the metallic green of a mendicant preacher.

Some of these missionaries came upon what is now the Citadel. At this time, the Citadel was barely more than a shanty town built in the ruins of Kryshana. Much knowledge had been lost, and the inhabitants of the Citadel lived in squalor, barely eking out enough food from the earth to feed them. To them the Keepers brought a message of hope. The Keepers spoke of machines and gears, steam and iron, weapons and armor. Above all they spoke of the divine Essence of Pheric (blessed be) that makes light from nothing. The people were moved deeply, and the High Lords took notice. A meeting of the Council was convened, and the High Lords took urgent council with each other. Their course was clear.

The next day the High Lords announced that they were converting to this new religion. The Keepers would be welcomed into the city and given land to build a temple. Any who spoke against them would be put to death. The Keepers knew that this conversion was one born of necessity, not faith, and their response was hotly debated. Some of the Keepers wanted to wait for further evidence of true faith, but most of the Keepers were happy to be in a place that treated them like kings. The objecting Keepers left the Citadel to begin the long trip home. The rest remained and began building.

So it was that the Keepers built the Citadel. They fashioned its walls and forged its gates. They built factories and armories for the High Lords. But, most important of all, they built the Great Temple of Pheric. This huge building hulks in the center of the Citadel. Its iron buttresses are impregnable, keeping the world outside from entering in. Within the walls of the Temple, the sacred rites of Pheric are performed. Within these walls, the Keepers channel the sacred essence of Pheric to power the lights and machinery of the Citadel. And, rising from the center of the Temple, looming over the city, is the giant clock tower Kron. Every hour its huge bell tolls the time. It weighs on the city, laying on it the burden of time. The tolling of Kron oppresses, depresses, destroys. Under that constant barrage, even the mightiest must quail and submit to the ticking and the tolling of the clock.

Yet the Keepers miscalculated when they constructed the mighty Kron. For it is built with a twenty-four hour clock, while the Alyrian day has twenty-five hours. Therefore, every night, just before midnight, a Keeper climbs the 1331 stairs of the tower, chanting the secret Name of Pheric (blessed be) and carrying a lamp and an hour glass. At the stroke of midnight, he stops the clock and turns over the hour glass. Silence descends on the city. Every machine, every generator, every factory ceases to operate while Kron is still. All that can be heard is the demented screaming from the Howling Lands to the northeast. There, in that tiny room at the top of the tower, the Keeper waits, deep in prayer. When the hour has passed, he will restart the clock and descend the 1331 stairs, thankful that Pheric has restarted time. And the city breaths a sigh of relief.

It is said that the demons walk the night during this hour, trying to find Time and kill him. It is said that monsters roam the city streets during this hour, devouring those that they find. Only the brave and foolhardy venture into the dark of the Devil’s Hour.

Devil's Hour: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:44:00.000-06:00

1329....1330...1331.... The Keeper’s breath was heavy as he entered the meditation chamber atop the tower of Kron. He paused to catch his breath, a difficult task while trying to speak the True Name of Pheric. “3A....FF....57....32....AE....2A...,” he gasped. It was his first night to perform the Rite of Perpetual Vigilance. (As a novice he had nicknamed it the Rite of Thumb Twiddling, which had earned him a beating.) He clutched the oil lamp—no electricity for the Rite of Perpetual Vigilance—and the ritual hourglass. For the first time he took a closer look at the room. It was small and bare. A single window looked over the city. On the floor below it was a kneeler and a single lever. Two small shelves flanked the window. The Keeper knew what he had to do. Kneeling on the kneeler, he placed the lamp on the shelf on the left side of the window and the hourglass on the shelf on the right side. Then he made the sign of the Gear. “Pheric (blessed be), be pleased to preserve your people and your city through this hour.” As he finished praying, the bell of Kron sounded.

It was like nothing the young Keeper had experienced. The entire room shook and reverberated with the sound. Twelve times Kron spoke, and each time the Keeper shuddered. Then, suddenly, Kron was silent. The Keeper was so nervous that he almost forgot the next part of the rite. Whispering a prayer to Pheric, he pulled the lever.

Kron clanked to a halt. Looking from the window, he could see the lights going out across the city. The factories ground to a halt. Soon all was silent. Trembling slightly the Keeper reached out to the hourglass and turned it over. Fine black sand began running from the top half into the bottom half. The Keeper watched it eagerly. It would only be an hour. He groped in his robe for the Gear around his neck and began to pray the Cycle.

A noise interrupted him. It sounded like a scream. He jumped and looked out the window. The Weeping Moon had risen and was passing through the sky, shedding blood-red light and blood-red rain on the land. But the Keeper could see nothing. Again the scream. Now the Keeper knew what he was hearing. The Howling Lands. Home of the Restored who were too brain-dead to be useful, turned loose to wander the wild, forever mindless, forever moaning. The Keeper shuddered. What a fate.
The sand ran slowly. Several times the Keeper nearly fell asleep, his head on the windowsill. Each time he shook himself awake, berating himself for his lack of devotion. Just a few more minutes....

A drop of some liquid spattered on his head. Startled, he looked up and was spattered by another falling drop striking his forehead. With a cry he fell backwards. He landed in a most undignified position and scuttled away from the window. He wiped his forehead and his hand came away red. Tales from his boyhood returned. Demons walked the night during Devil’s Hour. What if one was on the roof, feasting on unholy food? Part of his mind was screaming, gibbering, wanting to do nothing more than flee. But his Keeper training reasserted itself. There are no such things as demons. The peasants tell such tales, but true men of faith do not believe such nonsense. Laughing in embarrassment at his reaction, he returned to the kneeler.

By the time the hourglass was finished, his eyes were heavy and bloodshot with the effort of remaining awake. Even now, he would need to be awake at five for Matins. He rushed through the last prayer, bowed, and grabbed the hourglass and lamp. “1331 steps between me and my bed,” he thought. Time to get started. 1.... 2.... 3.... 4.... 5.... “3A....FF....57....32....AE....2A,” he intoned as he marched down the stairs. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. The red liquid was still there. He would definitely need to take a bath before Matins. His voice and lamp faded into the darkness as he continued down the stairs.

The Citadel--The Restored

1990-01-01T01:43:00.000-06:00

Deep within the Keeper Temple, in its innermost sanctum, lie the Restoration Tanks, filled to brimming with the Water of Life. It is in this room that the Keepers perform the Rite of Restoration.

The Rite is the most sacred act of the Keeper religion. The Keepers claim to have received it from Pheric himself, although blasphemers whisper that the dragons seem to have had a hand in it as well. For the result of the Rite is nothing less than the Restoration of life to the dead.

The Rite is quite simple. The body is placed into one of the Restoration Tanks, and a power cable is attached to fill the Tank with the essence of Pheric himself. One of the Keepers throws a switch and the Tank is ablaze with light. Then, with a ringing shriek, the body returns to life. The Keepers exult in that shriek, claiming that it is the dragons, enraged that a soul has escaped them. Heretics proclaim that it is rather the shriek of the Restored himself, returned to life.

The Restored are everywhere in the Citadel. They are used for so many of the dangerous menial tasks that once were performed by the poorest residents. Restored cleaning crews wander the Citadel, cleansing the streets of litter and offal dumped from the surrounding buildings and the Web that hangs overhead. Restored perform the simplest of jobs in the power plants and factories that fill the Citadel. Entire cadres of servants wait hand and foot on the wealthy families of the Citadel. They have many other uses as well. Restored troops are herded into combat, expendables with truly nothing to lose. Restored crews man mist ships sailing far away across the Sea of Mist. They no longer breathe and so do not need the clumsy breathing equipment required by mere mortals.

Not everyone can be Restored, though. The body must be in good condition upon death, something that does not always happen in this violent world. Moreover, younger bodies are preferred. The Restoration repairs much of the damage caused by aging, but still better are those bodies that have never aged at all. Frequently capital prisoners are used for the Restoration. The Keepers claim that all receive a fair trial. Some citizens actually believe them. However, there is an even more basic reason why there are not more Restored.

After the Ritual of Restoration is performed, the new Restored is fitted with a special implant that keeps it calm and docile. Also, when activated with certain keywords, it will allow verbal programming of the Restored. Anyone with the proper knowledge can control one of these poor creatures. Usually the master of a Restored selects the keywords, although it is said that the Keepers implant their own secret words as well.

Those implants are all that ensure that the Restored do not riot in the streets of the Citadel. Unfortunately, no one remembers how to make those implants anymore. One of these days, the Keepers will run out of implants, and who knows what will happen then? Therefore, whenever a Restored becomes non-functional, the first thing that the Keepers do is recover the implant. Then, if the body is still in good enough condition, the Ritual of Restoration is performed again.

Yes, a body can be Restored multiple times. This is often done, especially when the Restored has been useful or knowledgeable in the past. He is placed in the Restoration vats once again and is once again drawn forth to an existence of torment. However, there is a fatal flaw in the Restoration. It cannot truly restore the brain. Even as the bodily functions are restored, subtle decay in the brain slowly degrades the mental capacity of the Restored. The damage slowly spreads, even over the course of several Restorations, until all that is left is a gibbering wreck, useless for anything.

What is done with these mindless Restored? The Keepers refuse to destroy them. They claim that the essence of Pheric has entered them and that to destroy them would be sacrilegious. Instead, they remove the implants from worn-out Restored and release them to a place outside the Citadel to roam mindlessly until they die a final death. Men call them the Howling Lands because of the mindless howling from the hundreds of zombie-like Restored that wander the land. In the dark of night, during the Devil’s Hour, when the machines of the Citadel cease and the voice of Kron is still, the sound of howling drifts from the northeast into the Citadel. It is a lost, lonely sound, like the dying wordless cry of a damned soul. Then the people of the Citadel huddle in their houses, afraid of what the darkness might bring.

And right they are to fear, for not all Restored are under control. Some have been freed from the tyranny of the implant. Not everyone in the Citadel loves the use of Restored. Some fear that their livelihood may be at stake from the free labor of the Restored. Others feel that it is their religious duty to help the enslaved and oppressed. Still others seek to destroy the Citadel by destabilizing it from within. Whatever the reason, many seek out Restored and remove their implants. Some Restored even have the force and strength of will to remove their own implants, although this is very rare.

What these rogue Restored do is anyone’s guess. Some probably flee into the Web, where the strange and outcast are commonplace. Others flee into the wilderness to make their own way in a cold and hostile world. Some even spin stories of an island in the Sea of Mist called the Isle of Refuge, where all who seek asylum from the Citadel’s purges are welcome. The stories say that rogue Restored, Misbegotten, Blessed, and many others live there together in peace. But there are many stories, and if this is true or not, none can say.

The Web

1990-01-01T01:42:00.000-06:00

The dome above the Citadel is long destroyed; even the shards are gone. Yet the four arched beams that once supported it still remain, jutting from the ground like a broken ribcage. Between these supports, suspended in the middle of the sky, hangs the Web. It is a city within a city, a last refuge of broken hearts and shattered dreams.

Life is hard in the Citadel, and many wish to flee. However, for most, the wilderness holds only the promise of certain death. Ravaging bands of Misbegotten, rogue Blessed, or even such mundane threats as bandits await those that venture into the wilderness. Some claim that a vast sewer system underlies the Citadel, connecting the different sectors of the city and even encapsulating some small part of fallen Kryshana. Yet no reliable witness has ever seen an entrance to this system, nor would most fugitives from the Citadel trust their lives to the underground. For them, the only way to escape is up.

No one remembers who first climbed the Archways to build a home. The four First Families of the Web each claim to have been the first, but they could have just as easily been interlopers that wandered into the Web later. Regardless of who is right, once the first man climbed the Archways, more followed, building shanties and shacks right onto the Archway. Soon there was no more space, but the stream of refugees remained constant. So the new arrivals began to build their homes by tying them with rope or wire to the houses that were already built. Slowly the Web spread over the skies of the Citadel, gradually taking on an identity of its own.

The Web is partly responsible for the poor living conditions in the Citadel. After all, the several thousand inhabitants of the Web need to eat and drink, just like anyone else. And so they steal. Raiding parties from the Web slip down into the Citadel, grabbing whatever they can carry. Sometimes they even have the audacity to sell their wares in the Citadel marketplace, selling back to the city what they first stole from it. Moreover, the Web-dwellers often dump their sewage into the city below. Restored work crews are kept busy cleaning the streets, and many a Citadel dweller has been caught in a sudden downpour that is less than desirable.

Because of this, the Noble-born try to prevent their residences from being Webbed over. Guards shoot fire arrows from the tops of buildings into the Web. Some even lead patrols into the Web itself, although few return. It is a balance of terror. The Noble-born could smash the Web altogether, but at tremendous cost. So, for the most part, they try to keep their own homes clear and tolerate its existence.
There are many entrances to the Web. Usually these entrances are in buildings that are tall enough to reach into the Web. Just walk up a long flight of stairs and walk out onto the roof. Sometimes, when the building is too short, a rope or ladder is lowered from the Web. Sometimes, when the building is tall, an enterprising entrepreneur will operate an electric elevator, hauling passengers and freight up and down the building...for a charge, of course. These entrances are nominally secret, but it is amazing how many of the common folk know precisely where these entrances are. It is not precisely illegal to use them, but then again there are many actions that are not precisely illegal that will still draw the wrath of the Noble-born. Sometimes, one of the Noble Lords will order the closing of an entrance by force, but for every entrance that is closed, two more spring up in its place. It is a hopeless battle.

There is a certain irony to the society that developed in the Web. On the one hand, the Web is much more accepting than the Citadel. The Blessed and Misbegotten are welcome in the Web. Rogue Restored walk alongside normal humans on the suspended walkways and “streets” of the Web. Yet, in its own way, the Web is as brutal as the Citadel.

There is no one ruling power in the Web. Instead, the city is a patchwork of little gangs, each laying claim to its own territory. Oh, they might not all call themselves gangs. Some might call themselves “family” or a “survival cooperative”, but the intent is the same: mutual protection against aggressors. And there are plenty of aggressors in the Web. Conflict is endemic. Not a day goes by without another beating, another rape, another murder, all in the name of the gangs. However, these conflicts rarely erupt into outright warfare. After all, a gang needs to maintain good ties with the neighbors. Literally.

Consider the harsh reality of the situation. Unless a gang lives right next to an Archway, all their homes and other buildings are hanging in mid-air, supported only by their connections to the buildings around them. What if all the neighbors of a gang were to turn against it and cut the ties which connect the gang’s territory to theirs? It is a long fall to the city streets below. Therefore each gang makes sure that their ties are strong with their neighbors and seeks to sever the ties of rival gangs, weakening their position in the Web, both literally and figuratively, until one day the rival’s section of the Web finally gives way.

It is a horrifying thing to see someone take the Long Fall.

And so, the Web itself exists because of a balance of terror. Make too bold a move, disturb the equilibrium, rock the boat, and you and your family and friends could be taking the Long Fall. It is a pitiable existence. Everyday, each inhabitant of the Web walks on eggshells. Violence hangs in the air, coiled and ready to strike. Anyone could be the next victim. Anyone.

Except the lightning jacks. No one would dare touch a lightning jack.

The Web--The Lightning Jacks

1990-01-01T01:41:00.000-06:00

The lightning jacks are the most blatant example of how the Web exists as a leech on the Citadel. As was mentioned previously, the Citadel has its own electric generators that operate under the control of the Keepers. In their eyes, electricity is the mystic power of Pheric himself, to be dispensed in accord with his wishes and desires. The faithful may receive a ration of power, but the heathen and outcast cannot.

The Web is filled with “heathen and outcast.” There is no way that the Keepers would provide electricity to the huddled masses of the Web. So the lightning jacks steal it for them. Under the dark of night, the lightning jacks creep from the Web to tap into the power cables that crisscross the Citadel, stealing electricity for the Web.

This is an incredibly dangerous job. First, the lightning jack takes the risks of working with the powerful electrical flows that course through these power cables. Many novice lightning jacks never return from their first raid, and there is always the chance, even for the veterans, that this time they will slip. But even for the successful lightning jack, the danger is not over. Stealing electricity is very illegal, and the Noble-born warriors are empowered to kill such thieves on sight. But even that is a mercy compared to the fate that would await him if the Keepers caught him. There are whispered rumors of the ancient torture chambers beneath the Keeper Temple. The truth is even more horrifying.

The lightning jacks know the risks. So why do it? It is quite simple. Among the people of the Web, a lightning jack is sacrosanct. No one touches a lightning jack. No one. All the gangs of the Web would rise as one against anyone who would dare harass or harm a lightning jack. There have been gang brawls that have paused to allow a lightning jack to pass unharmed. It is a dangerous job, but it has its rewards.

The Misbegotten

1990-01-01T01:40:00.000-06:00

The ripper plague that ravaged Alyria as part of the Rape had dire consequences. Many of its victims were twisted by the plague in hideous ways. Some grew extra limbs. Others devolved into mindless beasts. Still others were mutilated in ways too horrible to describe. These roamed the wilderness and barren streets as the plague fires burned and the dragons wreaked havoc across the land.

Slowly they were pushed back.

Slowly they were destroyed or hounded into waste areas.

When the dragons were forced back, many thought that the threat was gone. Then the first malformed child was born. Something in the genetic code of the survivors had been injured or broken. While so many bore healthy children, a few bore freaks. The panic began. So often the children were abandoned, exposed to the elements. Other times mobs formed to force the parents to give up their misshapen child or bear the consequences. One village burned a family alive. They surrounded their house and threw on torches until it blazed. Someone stumbled out of the house, burning, begging, pleading, and they pushed him back into the house. The smoke of this ancient burning still rises.

This is the secret shame of so many on Alyria. The fear and hatred run deep. To this day the Misbegotten are banned from the Citadel upon pain of death. The High Lords demand it. The Keepers even require it. The streets still run red with the blood of the Misbegotten. That is why those who still retain their human faculties flock to the Web. Here they are welcome. Here they are accepted. Here they can retain a semblance of civilized living, without having to flee into the wilderness.

Oh yes, many Misbegotten live in the wilds outside the Citadel. Some live quietly, merely seeking to be left alone. But there are others. Misbegotten bandits raid villages, striking back at those who rejected them. Even worse are those that have lost their power of reasoning, becoming mere animals. Many stalk the night, running or loping or galloping, seeking man-flesh to eat or violence to assuage their terrible pain.

But is this not true of every man? For there are many who wear human faces that gaze at the world with bestial eyes, and some who walk as beasts who see with human eyes. Who is fit to judge such matters?

Icarus: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:39:00.000-06:00

I crouch in silence atop the tower, gazing out to sea. So many wives and mothers, gathered below, gaze with me, straining their eyes in hope for their husbands and sons. I gaze with eyes of death, seeing only the mist and dark.

Mother, why? Why did you inflict this pain on me?

Icarus she called me. Her little winged boy. Her pride and joy. Ha. (I spit off the tower.) Did she think that I didn't see the loathing in her eyes when she thought me asleep? Did she think that she could hide her disgust with the monster she had borne? Her smile, her laughter, all a mask. I could see the truth. It burned in her eyes.

Mother, why did you hate me so?

My wings flutter unconsciously as I think of my father. The great High Lord from the Noble House. (I spit again.) Just a one night stand, he claimed, that night when I confronted him. She had been nothing, I less than nothing. I struck him that night and fled, taking flight on angel's wings, the wings that forever mark me as Misbegotten, the twisted, the perverse, less than human.

What will you say to me now, my father? Shall a word escape your lips as I come to you with fire?

There! In the distance! I can see the mist ship entering the harbor. All the wives and mothers are aflutter now, down below me. They can almost see their husbands, their sons.

Are you watching tonight, Mother? Look! Here I am! Do you watch for your son? Turn your eyes to the sea, Mother. Your son also will be arriving soon.

"Do not fly too high, little Icarus!" she used to say to me. And so I did, to spite her. I soared in the clouds, danced with the lightning, flying higher and higher. And, like a moth to flame, I was drawn into the company of others, whom she hated. Freedom fighters, they called themselves. Rebels, the High Lords called them. Thieves. Murderers. I cared not. Their crimes did not concern me. Rather, I cared that they looked on me as an equal, not a monster. I cared that they hated the High Lords almost as much as I. That through them, one day I would strike a blow against everyone who hated me. That through them, I would have revenge.

Mother, you mocked me. Father, you scorned me. But you will see. Today, I soar higher than ever. Today, my wings carry me to victory. And shall I fall, Mother? Your little Icarus, burned by the sun? Yes, but in that moment, I shall not fall alone.

The mist ship is closer now. His banner flutters from the stern. The great High Lord, my father, is indeed aboard. My friends did not understand why I volunteered for this mission, why I would not allow anyone but myself to do the deed. True, the High Lord was an evil oppressor, but they could not understand the depths of my passion. How to explain fifteen years of pain, of scorn, of mockery, all because of this man? I check my belt. The stolen Keeper device is there, fiery death held in a small metal sphere. The time has come. I launch out into space.

Father! I am coming! You forced me into this twisted life. It is only fitting that I steal from you the perfect life that you love. They may call me a twisted Misbegotten bastard, but you deserve this name oh so much more than I.

I glide. I soar. I howl in anticipation. The float bag of the mist ship is before me. And, behold, my father stands upon the deck!

I reach to my belt.

He looks up at me.

He knows. He knows! And the terror and the pleading in his eyes suddenly make it all worthwhile.

I press the button.

Light. Heat.

Mother, look! I touched the sun! I flew so high I touched the sun! Can you see me? Can you see me?

And like Icarus I burn.

And like Icarus I fall...

The Blessed

1990-01-01T01:38:00.000-06:00

The Misbegotten were not the only beings produced by the rape. Also there are the Blessed. And what does it mean to be one of the Blessed?

Imagine that, in the back of everyone’s mind, there is a small door. And imagine that, behind this door, is a raging torrent of pure power. For most people, that door stays locked for their entire lives. However, in one of the Blessed, the lock is weakened and eventually the door bursts open and the power surges forth. Perhaps it is a moment of great stress, such as being threatened by a bully or accidentally falling from a tree. Whatever the cause, the Blessing bursts forth. The bully is pulverized. The fall is halted abruptly. The Blessed has used his Blessing for the first time.

It is never this easy again. Now that the door to this power has been opened, the Blessed must make sure that the door stays closed unless he actually wants to let the Blessing out. This is a long, tiring struggle, requiring intense mental discipline. Many fail to control the Blessing and it takes its toll. There have been tales of Blessed being overwhelmed by their Blessing and literally exploding under the stress. An entire village was destroyed in this way once. Even under less extreme circumstances, the Blessed finds bits of power leaking out, guided only by his unconscious mind. In its own way, this can be even more dangerous.

Imagine what it would be like. Every minute of every day, this torrent of power is beating at that door, and it is all that you can do to keep it shut. Sometimes, sometimes, you want to let a little out. But when you ease the door open just a crack, you must still hold it against the torrent that strives to burst through. Sometimes, the door blows wide open. Sometimes it can never be closed.

That is what the Blessing is like.

The mental toll is hard. The physical toll is worse. As the raw power of change courses through the Blessed’s body, he too is changed and twisted. Rarely is this for the better. The Blessed speak of the Marks of the Blessing. Some Blessed have grown extra limbs, sprouted extra eyes, or had their bones dissolve. Eventually the Blessed will be bear too many Marks, and the physical strain will overcome him. It is a terrifying fate.

Is it any wonder that the Blessed are outcast, forced from hearth and home to wander? Such a combination of power and horror is too much for most to understand. And we hate that which we do not understand. For their part, the Blessed rarely seek trouble. Most strive to hide their natures, wearing robes or loose clothing to hide their deformities, or they seek refuge in the few communities that tolerate their presence, such as the Web. Yet few find the peace that they so desperately desire.

Others choose a different path. They know that they have few years left to them, and so they embrace their power. Some choose to walk the path of the outcast, aiding those who will accept their help. Others choose the path of the warlord and sorcerer, gathering power to carve out petty kingdoms in the wilderness or to call down vengeance upon their foes.

Yet, for all this power, none of them can escape their fate.

Writ on Water: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:37:00.000-06:00

A flame flared in the darkness of the small hut. The paper caught and burned. “I was born twenty years ago today…” The words flamed and vanished. Another failure. He fell back onto the bed, wheezing. The gelatinous ruin of his body quivered with the effort. Two pseudopods writhed, while the single tentacle holding the pen quivered. His eyestalks drooped in despair and fatigue. Outside, the wind hummed and whispered through the tangles of the Web, bringing with it a scent of death.

Death. He would be here soon. Tonight. He was sure of it. In an hour or two the yawning abyss would swallow him forever. Desperate, he began again.

“This is the life that I have lived,” he scribbled. “Now I die. Once I was a happy human being, just like you. Now I am a monster, twisted by the hideous gift that was given to me. My Blessing was a curse to myself and those around me. No one loves me. No one even wants to see me.”

It was true, he thought. Somewhere on his body, a pustule broke. A twinge of pain shuddered through him, as he smelled the sickly scent of decay waft through the small room. Who would see me now? Picking up his pen, he continued. “All I ever wanted was for someone to love me, to make the demons go away. Now I am left alone to face the night.”

Cursing in frustration, he set the pages ablaze. That would not do at all! Too pitiful. Too weak. This was not how he wanted the world to remember him. He wanted them to remember the strong man that he had been, not the pus-filled formless mass that he had become.

Coughing, he oozed out of the bed and inched his way to the door. The wind was rising in the west. A storm was coming. Already he could hear the chimes of storm warnings as the Web prepared for another blast. “The Dragon Winds are upon us,” he thought.

In his mind’s eye he could see the storm swirling. Lightning crackled and thunder roared. It was like a living thing, enraged, hurling fists of wind and rain at the battered buildings of the Citadel. But at its heart, riding the beast, was the Void. The Emptiness. It was coming for him.

Despair set in. Why bother? What could be so important about a single life that it would be worth recording? He oozed back into his bed and watched his lungs heave from the exertion. His warped and mangled body quivered, but the thought echoed in his mind.

What had he done? What would be left when he was gone? There was nothing, nothing at all.

Whom had he loved?

Whom had he protected?

What had he given?

With a sob, he saw the truth. All this life, all this power, and in the end, nothing. Emptiness within. The Void, reaching out to him.

How had he deluded himself for so long?

A rustle outside. A quiet rattle, like old bones. A flapping of blackest wings. He shuddered. In his fear and despair something collapsed in his mind. For one final moment, his power blazed forth.

In the skies over the Citadel, letters of fire began to form. Across the city the inhabitants of the Citadel stopped their busy walk to gaze in wonder at the blazing script tearing across the sky. “This...was...my...life....” Then, with a sputter, the letters vanished, leaving only a trace of smoke in the air that the wind carried away.

Far above, the tiny hut burned. One by one the ropes holding it in place snapped. Slowly, ever so slowly, the hut began the long fall. It fell like a meteor in the night, burning, blazing, then suddenly vanishing forever.

The Ark

1990-01-01T01:36:00.000-06:00

To the east of the Citadel, embraced by an arm of the mighty Mountains, squats the Ark. It is three miles on each side and a mile high, making it larger than any other building ever seen on Alyria. In its shadow lie many villages, newly built and bustling with life. For many years, the Ark was closed, but now the Arkites have burst into the world and are swarming across Alyria. The High Lords of the Citadel watch and are afraid. Very afraid.

The Ark--History

1990-01-01T01:35:00.000-06:00

When the Progenitors first came to Alyria, they had need of dwelling places that would keep them safe from the dangerous environment until the atmosphere was breathable. Domed Kryshana was one such place. The Ark was another. Built to be totally self-sufficient, many of the most learned of the Progenitors dwelt within the Ark’s mighty walls. Even after the air became breathable, many scholars chose to remain in the Ark, pursuing their studies. Many flocked to the Ark, drawn by the promise of knowledge. The Ark was at peace.

This was not to last. When the dragon cultists rose up against the Progenitors and released the ripper plague, the Ark was attacked. As the ripper plague ran its course, the leaders of the Ark saw their only course. The infected were expelled from the Ark, and the doors were sealed. An abortive cultist uprising was stifled quickly, and the inhabitants of the Ark settled in to wait out the Rape. External sensors were programmed to keep the doors of the Ark locked until the plague was no longer detected in the air. It was not supposed to be a long wait.

But there was a slight malfunction in the sensors. Nothing too impressive. Nothing too deadly. But the doors did not open. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. And still the doors remained shut. Within the Ark, life became increasingly challenging. The emergency supplies of food ran out. Equipment began wearing out and could not be replaced. And the population just kept growing. They were running out of space. They were running out of food.

And so the inhabitants of the Ark made some very difficult decisions.

A thousand years passed.

Then one day, the unthinkable occurred. A freak malfunction triggered the locking mechanism on the airlocks. For the first time in a thousand years, the doors of the Ark opened to the outside world. Those that emerged were nothing like those that had entered.

The Opening of the Ark stands as a pivotal moment in Alyrian history. For the Ark has embarked on a policy of aggressive colonization that has brought it into direct conflict with the rest of the known world, especially the Citadel. War is coming, and the masked warriors of the Ark may yet prevail.

The Ark--The Numbered

1990-01-01T01:34:00.000-06:00

Even though the Ark has now opened, life continues in the ancient manner. A tradition of survival and communalism has kept the Ark alive, and there are few who wish to threaten their own survival.

No one in the Ark is born with a name. Names are considered to be dangerous. Names are a symbol of the individual, and the individual is dangerous to the community. So there are no longer any names. Instead, a person is given a duty number. This represents his current assignment, his section number, and his birth crèche, as well as reflecting previous successful assignments. Therefore, the inhabitants of the Ark are sometimes called the Numbered. They are interchangeable, performing their duties with quiet efficiency.

No one in the Ark may have a face. Faces are signs of the individual and are to be shunned. Instead, each adult wears a mask that reflects his current duties, as well as a long hooded robe that is colored to match the mask. A gardener might have a mask carved like ivy and a robe of brown and gold. A warrior might wear a mask carved like a hideous beast and a robe of black and red. One of the Choosers might have a set of scales carved across his mask and wear a robe of white. Whenever a person is given a duty assignment, he receives his new mask in a special ceremony called the Masking. A person’s first Masking is his rite of passage into adult life in the Ark. Before this, he is only a child, being cared for by the crèche parents appointed to him. The only place where a Numbered may remove his mask is in his private meditation chamber where he sleeps. Only here may he remove the mask and robe of his office and look upon his own face. But no one else may do so. All they may see are the mask and the robe.

No one in the Ark may be married. There is no concept of “family” in the Ark at all. Rather, some Numbered are given the duty assignment of reproduction. These are interbred as directed by the Eugenics Council, and their offspring are placed in crèches that are parented by other Numbered who have received that duty assignment. While the Ark was sealed, the population was strictly controlled, and many pregnancies were aborted to prevent overcrowding. Now that the Ark has opened, the Eugenics Council has ceased this unfortunate policy, especially as colonists are needed to man the outlying colonies. In order to prevent undesirable pregnancies, certain of the Numbered are sterilized and are assigned to physical pleasure duty. Any other sort of sexual activity is strictly forbidden.

All this sounds like a nightmare existence. Yet it is what the Numbered choose.

The Ark is not an oppressive dictatorship. It is a democracy. Each member of the Eugenics Council or the Duty Council is chosen by his section. Anyone of the Numbered may call a section meeting or call for a referendum on an issue. No one is forced to live this life. Indeed, if the Numbered wished, they could destroy their way of life with a simple vote. Instead, every day, the Numbered awaken and choose to continue to live this life. They choose to wear the mask every day, of their own free will.

The Ark--The Named

1990-01-01T01:33:00.000-06:00

But there are those who are restless. New ideas have come with the opening of the Ark, and there are some who feel that change is needed. They see the Numbered way of life as an abomination, and instead they choose to live lives of individuality. They call themselves the Named, for they discard their duty numbers in favor of actual names.

Some do this openly, perhaps declaring themselves in a section meeting, or refusing to wear their mask. Others do this quietly, living double lives. All are a threat to the fabric of Ark society and are met with harsh reprisals.

And what do these rebels want? The answer is as varied as the bizarre names that they choose for themselves. Some idealists wish for a better society, where the needs of the group and individual are harmonized. Others seek escape from the asceticism of the Ark, turning to shocking hedonistic displays. Still others mutter of revolution, throwing off the Twin Councils or burning the Ark to the ground. Yet in the minds of the Numbered, they are all deadly, and all are hunted vigorously.

The Ark--The Colonies

1990-01-01T01:32:00.000-06:00

When the Ark opened, the Twin Councils launched a massive program of colonization, freeing the populace from the tight population controls that they had imposed and encouraging the settlement of new territory. Now there exist many small villages and towns that are peopled by the Numbered of the Ark. These colonies are the only hope for the future of the Ark. There is simply not enough space in the Ark, and the territory being held by the colonists will provide room for years to come. And yet, the most dangerous threats to the Numbered way of life are to be found in the colonies. Contact with Citadel explorers and the inhabitants of the wilderness have brought new ideas into the conservative society of the Numbered, and the Named have found much support in the colonies. Some rumors even speak of entire Ark villages that have gone Named, discarding their masks and duty numbers in favor of names. The Twin Councils are at a loss, uncertain of how to proceed. Some argue for patience, while others claim that the rebel Named must be purged. Yet none can deny this: a civil war is brewing.

Wearing the Mask: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:31:00.000-06:00

Suddenly, he awoke. Sweating, he panted in the darkness. Was it a dream? His mind was muddled and confused, still swathed in the mists of sleep. He groped for the light switch and turned it on. The pale blue glow of the single bulb illuminated the room. It was still the same as always. The bed, the small table, the single chair. He looked at the water clock. Was it really that early? The chime had not yet sounded to awaken him for work. How he wished for a window. He did not have a window, but he was hopeful that, with hard work and dedication, he would receive one. Some day. It was one of his fondest dreams.

Dreams.

Memories of last night trickled into his head, like water in the water clock. It could not have been a dream. They had all been there. She had been there. How could she be a dream?

“How could she not be a dream?” whispered a cynical voice in his head. He ignored it, trying to remember what had happened. Too much strong drink, too much excitement. His eyes fell on the robe, tossed carelessly on his chair. And his mask....

His mask lay on the table. Its empty eyes stared at him accusingly.

And he remembered.

***

The sun was setting over the western wall of the Ark. He looked up at it, wiping the sweat from his brow. Almost dark. Good. Soon the day would be over and he would have a chance to rest. Tonight the section kitchen was serving real venison, hunted in the forests outside the Ark. Rumor even claimed that a musician from one of the colonial villages would be performing, singing and telling tales of the world outside the Ark. It would be a pleasant evening.

But until then, there was still work to be done. The Interior Forest needed to be maintained. He returned to weeding his flowerbed. Ever since he had been placed in a birth crèche, the Choosers had earmarked him for this duty. Their decision had proven to be wise. He had a natural gift with plants. Under his care they bloomed and flourished. The Mask-Maker who had been assigned to craft his first duty mask had noticed as well. His mask was golden, etched with blooming irises and finely detailed ivy vines, twining on his cheekbones and curling around the eyeholes. “Your face will shine like the sun,” the old Mask-Maker had said, “and will remind us of our future in the green growing world.” How he had glowed with pride as he had stood before the community and had received his first duty number and his first mask. 74-336-0-0-115. It was carved on his mask and burned into his heart. He smiled at the memory.

But it had been four years since his masking, and his pride had long since faded. Doubt had crept into his mind. Four years spent weeding the flowerbeds? How could this be service to the Ark? Did the Choosers not care that his abilities were squandered here? He wanted to be able to do so much more. Above all, he wanted a window in his meditation chamber. Just a simple window overlooking the Interior Forest. Surely that was not too much to ask.

One of the other gardeners glided over to him. Her eyes peered out from a mask inlaid with gold and brown leaves and her robe rustled like a tree in spring. 69-336-20-51-115 was written on her forehead. “So, 74,” she said, “what are your plans for this evening?” Her eyes sparkled like dewdrops. “Going to the concert?”

“Well, uh, I don’t really know yet,” he said. “Er, perhaps I will just retire to my meditation chamber and consider my service to the Ark.” He winced even as he said it. “How stuffy you sound,” he thought. Even the section leaders rest once their duty cycle is completed.

Her eyes laughed at him. “I would not want to keep you from your meditations,” she said coolly. “But, if you were not otherwise occupied, I would like to spend some time with you in...conversation.” She laughed as he stammered his acceptance. “I will meet you after the evening meal outside the dining hall. Do not be late, for I will not wait.” She turned and glided away and he tried to return to his work. But in his mind, her silvery laugh still echoed, and her sparkling eyes hung before him.

It seemed to him that the meal would never end. He hadn’t cared for the venison, although he had eaten it dutifully. (“The resources of the collective should never be wasted,” had been the Regulation preached during the last convocation.) This cycle he had been seated by a couple that had just been assigned a child. It had been challenging. The child had squalled all dinner, despite his mothers’ attempts to soothe him. Finally, in a fit of rage, the child had thrown his bottle, which had splattered everyone at the table with warm soymilk. The wastage of food had been noted, and the section leader had reprimanded the mothers. It had been a shameful scene, and he had been glad when the chime had sounded, signaling the end of the meal. He hurried to return his meal dish to the Server and rushed through the ritual of thanks. Then he slipped from the room.

69 was waiting for him by the section’s notice board. She laughed as she saw his milk-spattered robe. “Sitting too close to a young one?” she asked.

His pride was stung, so he quoted one of the Regulations. “The children of the Ark are the future of the collective.”

“Very true. Very true. Now come quickly,” she said, pulling him down a darkened corridor. He had never been this way before and soon became lost in the twisting maze of dark corridors. When he asked where they were going, she hushed him. Hurt and confused, he continued to follow her.

Soon they came to a door. 69 slid a punch card into the slot and the door creaked open. Upon entering the room, he stopped in amazement. It was no room. It was outside. They were on the roof of the Ark. 69 closed the door behind them. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her low voice thrilling through him. “Look to the east. Do you not see it?” He turned and saw the blood-red Weeping Moon rising over the mountains. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “Isn’t it amazing how something so deadly can be so beautiful?”

He froze in stunned amazement. No had ever touched him like this. It was definitely forbidden to one of the Servants. (“The body of a Servant is given to him by the collective, and he shall use it in the service of the collective.”) And yet, he thrilled to the feeling of her soft arms wrapped around him. Indecision wracked him.

She spoke then, softly, barely able to be heard over the cool wind that blew across the roof. “I’ve wanted to bring you out here for so long. Ever since I laid eyes on you, I knew that you would be the one. You are so in love with your plants. It’s like they are your own children. I see you talking to them as you water them, telling them your little stories. That’s how I knew.”

He pulled away then, turning to face her. “69? What are you saying?”

She stepped back as well. “Don’t call me 69,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I have a name.” Pause. “Would you like to hear it?”

He surprised himself by answering her. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I would love to hear your name.”

She hesitated. “I cannot tell you my name without showing you my face.” Another pause. Then, in a tiny voice, “Will you look at my face?”

He felt a tightness in his throat as he whispered, “I would love to see your face.”

Her hands came up to her face. Slowly she lowered the mask. She was beautiful. Dark skin like chocolate. Deep brown eyes. Black hair falling in ringlets. “My name is Autumn,” she said. Her hands reached for his mask, and he did not resist.

They made love that night on the roof of the Ark, their entwined bodies bathed in the blood red light of the Weeping Moon.

***

He turned the mask in his hands, watching it catch the light. The next few weeks had been a blur. He and Autumn had met secretly every night, sharing their passion. And they had talked. She had been born into a birth crèche in one of the colonies, so she had many stories to share about the outside world. She told him of first seeing the Sea of Mist, with its billowing clouds and rumbling thunder. She spoke of early mornings in the forest, when the fog still clung to the trees like a wispy veil. And together they chose a name for him.

A tapping at the door startled him from his reverie. “Helios!” a voice whispered. “Helios! Open the door.”

He looked from the door to the mask, from the mask to the door. He did not move.
“Helios!” the voice hissed again. “Helios!”

It was Autumn.

***

“Where are we going?” he asked. It was part of the nightly ritual. She would whisk them off to some undiscovered side corridor, where they would yield to their passions.

“You’ll see,” she answered. “Tonight I have a special surprise for you.”

Light flooded from the opening door, dazzling them. “Give the password,” a harsh voice demanded. Autumn spoke quietly. “Very well. You may enter,” the voice said.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that the room was full of people. Some sat on benches by the tables. Others lounged on the floor or slouched against the wall. Each wore the robe and mask of the Servants of the Ark. He turned to see a huge man, dressed in a black robe, closing the door behind them. “My apologies, good sir,” the man said, “but we cannot be too careful. Autumn understands this. My name is Miyamoto Hercules Washingon, and I am the leader of this group of the Named. I would like to talk further with you, but first I must begin the ceremonies.” The man pushed past him before he could speak and took his place in the center of the room.

“My friends, we are gathered here today as those who are Named. Come, shed your masks with me for a while, and revel in your freedom!” And without further ceremony the man pulled the mask from his face and threw it to the floor.

All across the room, others followed suit. Some cast their masks to the floor, while others spit or trod upon them. Autumn removed her mask with a yell of glee and cast it to the floor. He removed his mask more slowly and placed it carefully on a nearby table.

Someone thrust a bottle into his face. “Here, drink!” the person said. He sipped from the bottle and began to cough violently. “What is that?” he demanded, once he had recovered. But the person was already gone. He looked around the room and saw that it had dissolved into chaos. The bottle that he had sampled was being passed around the room. Incense had been lit, and the sweet-smelling smoke was beginning to fill the room. Someone was playing music. All around him celebrants reveled. He shrank back to the wall, looking for Autumn, but he could not see her. So he began to pick his way across the room. Finally he saw her, seated at a table with the big man who had started the ceremony. He stepped around a ménage a trois and pushed through the crowd that was forming around the trio, trying to reach Autumn. When she saw him, her face lit up. “Helios! Sit down with me. Miyamoto, have you met Helios?”

The big man smiled and put out his hand. “Just in passing. How are you doing, Helios?”

He looked at the big man in confusion. What was he supposed to do? Autumn laughed. “Helios, you’re supposed to take his hand and grip it tightly. It’s a personal gesture of greeting that Miyamoto made up. Don’t you think that it is much more personal than the Servant’s Salute?” She mimed it, mocking. “Hands to heart, hands out in service.” He winced.

The big man noticed. “Come, Helios. Why do you make that face? Sit and explain to us your feelings. We are listening.”

He sat down, painfully aware of the racket from the three in the middle of the room and their cheering audience. He began to speak but began coughing on the incense smoke that drifted through the room. The big man stood up and pounded him on the back. Gagging, he threw up onto the table. “What a wonderful idea!” someone shouted. Soon, several others had gathered around the table, attempting to vomit as well. He stood up weakly, reeling from the clashing odors in the room, disoriented by the smoke, dazed by the noise and confusion. Two men were standing on the table now, punching each other violently. The crowd in the middle of the room cheered. The room spun. He tried to scream, but no noise came. Stumbling from the table, he fled the room.

Autumn found him in the corridor, curled against the wall. “Helios, what is the matter?” she asked.

He looked at her incredulously. “What is the matter?” He waved at the room. “You cannot tell?”

“No. They are exercising their freedom.”

“Their freedom?”

“Their freedom to act for themselves. To choose their own lives and destinies, instead of being subjected to the Councils’ decisions. For this night, they can do as they please. What is so terrible about that?”

He stared at her. “But did you not see what they were doing? The drinking, the arguing.”

She shrugged. “What business is it of mine to judge what they are doing? It is their choice.” She held out a bottle to him. “Here. Drink.”

He knocked the bottle from her hand. It shattered against the wall. Their eyes locked for a moment.

He looked away first. “I am returning to my meditation chamber. I can only hope that the section bath is still open.” He stood up. “Goodbye, Autumn.”

“Do not leave,” she begged. “Stay with me a little longer.” She held open her robe. “You will be glad that you did.”

He stared at her in disgust. “The body of a Servant is given to him by the collective, and he shall use it in the service of the collective,” he quoted. “Remember that, 69.” He turned down the corridor.

Her voice reached him. “I am pregnant.” He stopped. “I am pregnant with your child. Tomorrow morning I am leaving the Ark. There are Named in the outlying colonies who will take me in so that I can give birth to the child. It is what I have always wanted, Helios. A child of my own, one that I can name and love and raise by myself, without the Choosers taking him away or telling me what to do with him.”

He turned back to her. The open door framed her silhouette. Her robe still hung open, but her face was hidden in shadows. “Come with me,” she begged. “Come with me. Together we can raise our child.”

The big man loomed in the doorway. “Autumn, are you coming in or not? I have to keep this door closed.”

“Tell me,” he said, “did you really love me? Or did you just love the idea of loving me?”

She was silent, her shadowed face unreadable.

“Autumn,” the big man said. “I need to close the door. Besides, I think that you are wanted inside.”

He turned away and walked down the corridor. Behind him, the door slammed shut.

***

“Helios! Let me in!” she whispered. “We do not have much time. They will catch me if I stay too much longer. Let me in!”

He held the mask up to his face. Funny how different the world looks from behind a mask. He turned it over and looked at it.

More tapping. “Helios!”

His finger traced the ivy on the golden mask.

“Helios! Please! I’m begging you!”

His hand brushed over his duty number.

“Helios! I’m leaving now. Are you coming with me?”

The water clock chimed. All over the Ark his fellow workers would be stirring. Soon the Ark would be awake. He would need to hurry if he was going to be at his duty station on time. He could almost hear his flowers were calling to him.

A vision of Autumn passed through his mind. Those deep brown eyes...

“Helios!”

The light gleamed off the mask as he stood.

It was time to go.

The Core and the True Keepers

1990-01-01T01:30:00.000-06:00

Far to the south the Mountains of Glory tower against the sky, blazing with light and heat. Surrounding them is a blasted desert that none have crossed. The charred bones of many who have tried lay scattered in the black sand.

Within these mountains, accessible by secret tunnels and hidden ways, lies the Core, home of Pheric and the True Keepers. For it is here that the Progenitors first made landfall when they came from the sky. It is here that they delved deeply, building the machines that bring life to the entire world. It is here that they enshrined Pheric whom they brought from the worlds beyond the sky. It is here that Pheric now sits enthroned, ruling over the land.

The Core itself is quite cool, but the blazing heat of the Mountains of Glory prevent casual excursions outside. Thus, many of the True Keepers have never seen the outside world. Instead, they live out a quiet, monastic life of service. Each True Keeper learns the rites of maintenance that must be performed. So long as these rites are performed, each True Keeper is free to pursue a life of contemplation and study. The library of the Core is full of learned treatises and monographs written by generations of True Keepers: generations now dead. Even more prized are the few remaining manuscripts left over from the time of the Progenitors themselves.

One duty taken seriously by the True Keepers is the praise of Pheric. In the center of the Core there is a large arched room. All the tunnels in the Core connect in some way with this place. In this room there stands a choir, perpetually chanting the Sacred Name of Pheric which is a number and not a word. Every True Keeper spends one hour of his day participating in this choir, chanting the Sacred Name. It is a high and holy privilege. The chant echoes through the tunnels and halls of the Core, so that the Name of Pheric is heard at all times.

Sometimes, though, a trip to the outside world cannot be avoided. Alyria is covered with many True Shrines of Pheric which must be periodically consecrated with the rites of maintenance. Moreover, at times a True Shrine of Pheric may be desecrated by the ungodly. In these cases, two or three True Keepers don the robes of mendicants and journey from the Core to perform the rites. Those that return tell strange tales of the world outside the safety of their mountains. Some do not return at all.

The highest ranking Keepers in the Core are given the title of Programmer. To these privileged few is given the burden of the truth. The Programmers are told the true history of Alyria. They are taught that Pheric is naught but a computer and that the Mountains of Glory are merely its heat sinks. They are shown the twin perils of dragons and Outsiders. They are taught that the fate of Alyria rests with them, for surely if the dragons or Outsiders should learn the truth about Pheric and the Core, the world is doomed. It is a heavy burden that they bear. For, as they say, knowledge is weightier than the mountains.

The Wilderness

1990-01-01T01:29:00.000-06:00

The land of Alyria breathes wonder and beauty. Wisps of cloud and mist cling to the tree-clad hills. Sunlight breaks through, dappling the grass. The world feels as though it is emerging from a beautiful dream. The climate here is cool yet comfortable. The rain falls during the storm season and the crops grow bountifully during the dry season.

Most of the people of Alyria are farmers, dwelling in small communities in the wilderness. For them, life is simple. There is the ever-present struggle to feed their families, to provide shelter from the weather, to guard from the dangers outside. They have little knowledge of the mighty forces at work in the land. The Citadel is a distant presence, if acknowledged at all. The Ark is barely known. Some communities pay an annual tribute to one or both of these powers, but often this is viewed as the price to be paid for their privacy.

This is not to say that each of these communities is the same. Nothing could be further from the truth. Some communities seem very similar to a medieval village, with a town council to govern them. Others are more tribal, with a chief or elders to make decisions. Still others may be even stranger. There have been reports of a settlement where all the decisions are based on the roll of a sacred die, a place where the ability to play games is exalted above all others. Communities with customs even stranger may yet exist in the unexplored wilderness.

Yet there is a common thread that runs through all these communities, from the enlightened seekers after wisdom to the darkest haunt of thieves and murderers: fear. Fear of outsiders. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the stranger. Despite its delicate beauty, the wilderness is a dangerous place. Misbegotten and Blessed wander at will, and there are monsters that walk the night with the form of men. The stranger who comes to your door could be the one to take your life. The bodies of those who trusted too quickly lay scattered in the wilderness, consumed by the wild animals or buried in shallow graves.

Throughout the land is evidence of the Progenitors’ might and skill. Ruins of their cities and buildings are everywhere. Occasionally a traveler may come upon a metal tower rising far into the sky with a single beacon burning atop it or perhaps the rubble of a building so huge that its fall shattered the very earth. Their roads still cross the empty forests and hills of Alyria. Some claim that they are cursed and refuse to walk them. Others use these roads as trade routes, extending civilization into the rough, wild areas of the world. Still others set up toll centers, attempting to extort money from the traders that walk the roads. Small wars have flared up between rival gangs or communities over control of a single road.

Life in the wilds can be quiet. Life in the wilds can be peaceful. But life in the wilds is also deadly, and those that forget will suffer the consequences.

The Dragons and the Dragon Cultists

1990-01-01T01:28:00.000-06:00

Dragons. Giant insect-like creatures with skeletal bodies and tattered wings. Green burning eyes. Beings of pure nightmare.

Little is known of the origins of the dragons. Perhaps they are a species native to Alyria. Maybe they also came down from the skies, like the Progenitors. Some Keeper mystics even argue that they are the externalization of the darker side of humanity and that they were evoked by the arrival of the Progenitors to Alyria. No one truly knows, except the dragons. Yet their goal is clear: the destruction of all that is good, true and beautiful on Alyria and the complete enslavement and eternal torment of every living being on its surface.

Why pursue such a course? It is painfully simple. The dragons feast on pain. Pain caused by malice. A child stubbing his toe or even someone dying by accident does little for the appetite of these horrible beings. Torture, slaughter, mayhem—these are the dragons’ true delicacies. Nor are they alone in this. Many willingly offer them service in the hopes that when the dragons set up the New Order, they will be among the rulers of the eternally tormented. Little kings with fiefdoms of hell.
The dragons dwell deep within the Sea of Mist and only rarely rise to the surface. Normally, they rule through dreams, speaking their depraved desires to their mortal followers, who eagerly await their dark commands. These dragon cultists can be found in every society and every societal class. Some gather in covens to perform dark rites in honor of the dragons. Others practice their perversions quietly. There is no orthodox ritual among the dragon cultists. Instead, what unites them is their mission. For each dragon cultist, regardless of wealth or station, is dedicated to one purpose: the spreading of pain. The lowest farmer can still sabotage his neighbor’s crops or spread hurtful rumors among the inhabitants of his little village. The mighty Noble-born can do so much more. Yet each contributes to the feeding and the glory of the dragons.

Some dragon cultists manage to attract the special attention of their dark masters. To these favored ones, the dragons give gifts of supernatural power and ability, such as the ability to give or take health with a touch or the power to travel long distances with only a thought. These Dark Gifts enable these cultists to perform even greater works of darkness, while also further corrupting the souls of those that use them.

In the world of Alyria, there are many who pursue goals that seem right to them. There are many who are mean or rude or selfish. There are many who abuse the power that has been given to them. But only the dragon cultists pursue true Evil with eyes wide open, knowing full well what they are doing and choosing to betray all humanity for the sake of power.

May the darkness swallow them.

Green Flame: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:27:00.000-06:00

Lightning tore open the sky. Another storm was rolling in from the Sea of Mist. The high priest was pleased. Storms meant destruction and chaos for the world Above. Storms would draw up one of the Masters from their dwelling in the world Below to come sanctify this gathering.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the rite of ordination proceeding behind the priest. The two initiates were enthusiastically violating the sacrifice while the other worshipers looked on. Earlier the priest had been concerned that the woman’s screams might attract unwanted attention, but now the wind and thunder drowned out her weakening cries. It was time, he knew, time for the invocation.

He raised his hands to the sky. “Oh Great Ones! Hear our plea! Accept this offering of pain and honor us with Your presence!” Lightning danced and rippled across the sky and was answered by flashes deep within the Sea of Mist. Behind him he heard the initiates beginning the excruciation. Calling more loudly over the rising wind, he repeated his invocation. The sky and Sea were whipped to a fury now. The lightning was almost continuous now as the storm burst over them. There! Was that a shape in the mist? Screaming at the top of his lungs, he cried out the paean of welcome. Behind him, he heard a sickening breaking sound as the last remnant of pain was wrung from the sacrifice.

With a mighty roar the dragon burst from the Sea. “My Master and my God,” the high priest whispered as he fell to his knees before the awesome sight. The dragon surveyed the scene with burning eyes. The high priest held his breath, wondering what the dragon was thinking. Suddenly fear squeezed his heart. Some of the Masters had been known to carry off high priests who did not sufficiently please them with their sacrifice. Was this one displeased? Sweat beaded on his forehead. Why didn’t the Master speak? The dragon’s burning eyes swept over him again. The high priest could feel the bile rising in his throat. He began to shake uncontrollably.

Finally the dragon spoke. “Arise,” it hissed. “Your sacrifice of pain has pleased me.” Relief washed over the high priest. Shakily he rose to his feet. “Now it is time to consecrate my new priests,” commanded the dragon. “Bring forth the initiates.”

The two initiates came forward. Both were blood-spattered from the excruciation that they had performed, and one still clutched a wicked-looking flail. They were shaking with fear and excitement and their eyes were wide as they beheld a Master for the first time. “Kneel before me!” commanded the dragon. Wordlessly they obeyed. “I am pleased with you as well,” the dragon hissed. “Receive the gift for which you have striven.” The dragon’s eyes began to glow a poisonous green. “Gaze deep within my eyes,” the dragon ordered. Trembling, the two initiates raised their eyes. Slowly a green nimbus grew around the two initiates. They began to twitch and moan with ecstasy as the power entered their bodies. The high priest began the litany of consecration, as the glow became ever brighter.

A choked cry escaped the lips of one of the initiates, breaking the high priest’s concentration. Smoke was beginning to rise from the initiate’s body. A look of exquisite horror passed over his face. “No!” he gasped. “NO!” The center of his chest was beginning to smolder. The initiate staggered to his feet. “No! Stop!” he screamed. The dragon looked on uncaringly as he screamed in pain again. Flames burst from his chest and ears. His eyes wept blood. “Somebody help me!” he screamed. The initiate staggered toward the high priest, keening wordlessly as his flesh began to burn away. Recoiling in shock and horror, the high priest pushed the flaming man away from him. A wordless cry escaped the dying man’s lips. “God! Save me!” he cried, not to the dragon before him, but to some half-forgotten deity of his youth. Then, with a final howl of soul-searing agony, he lurched over the precipice and fell into the Sea of Mist.

The dragon smiled coldly, showing its razor-sharp teeth. “He was...unworthy,” it hissed to the trembling high priest. “Be glad this other was not.” Slowly the second initiate rose to his feet. An unholy green fire burned behind his eyes. “Behold My servant, with whom I am well-pleased,” proclaimed the dragon in a voice like thunder. “Lo, the time is coming, when I shall fill the world with My spawn like this one, and the world shall burn as an eternal sacrifice to Our magnificence!” Beating its mighty wings, the dragon soared aloft and plunged into the Sea of Mist.

The high priest rushed through the final benediction. Several of the worshipers had already slipped away, their faith shaken by the horror they had witnessed. Still, most remained to rededicate themselves to the service of the Masters. At last, the final word was spoken. In twos and threes the remaining worshipers slipped away into the night. Two of them took the remains of what had once been a beautiful young woman and pitched them into the Sea. “A fitting resting place for our sacrifice,” thought the high priest. Then he reached deep into himself, down to where the emerald flame burned within his soul. He seized the power and dragged it forth...

The world twisted...

...spun...

...folding around him...

...falling into a consuming green flame...

He stood in his bedchamber in the Citadel. A long day of work lay ahead of him, and yet he was energized. The fear he had felt in the presence of the Master ebbed away and all that remained was a fierce joy. The dragons’ flame burned within him, and there was much work still to be done. Quickly he changed into his uniform. Soon it would be 6:00 and it would not do to miss the changing of the guard.

As he stepped out into the hallway, the sleepy soldier standing outside snapped to attention. “Good morning, sir!” he barked. The high priest returned the salute silently and turned down the hallway. After all, the Captain of the Guard need not respond to a mere private. Besides he was busy. Yes, so very busy. His eyes flared green with the fire in his soul.

And somewhere in the depths of his mind, he could hear a dragon roar.

The Outsiders

1990-01-01T01:26:00.000-06:00

Every night the Weeping Moon rises over Alyria. It is an offense against the sky, a gaping wound in the canopy of heaven. Its lurid light drenches the landscape in bloody shadows. But it is more than a mere eyesore. It is an omen of doom. It is the harbinger of the end of all things. It is the sign that the Outsiders have finally found Alyria.

The individual Outsider is not all that impressive. Barely larger than a mite, the blood-red organism is almost devoid of intelligence or ability, driven by mere instinct to feed. However, there is more to these creatures than meets the eye. For each individual mite is part of the greater whole, and each can act as a cell in a greater organism, a communal entity, with each individual cell contributing strength and intelligence to the whole. Usually the macro-organism is content to lay idle in a form that is similar to a viscous liquid. However, when the need arises, it can extrude tentacles, limbs, eyes, and more. It can even form an entire body, molded to its desires. It can be anything it needs to be.

However, it is limited by its color. Always the Outsiders are red. They can do many things, but they cannot change the color of their skin. Disguise seems to be out of the question…or is it? There are some who breathe rumors of men, drained of blood and internal organs, animated by an Outsider macro-organism. The “blood” coursing through its veins was nothing more than thousands and thousands of tiny Outsider mites. Just imagine. Your lost loved one comes stumbling out of the woods, cut and bleeding. You reach out to steady him and he looks up at you with soulless eyes as the blood begins to crawl up your arm and into your body....

This is why the Weeping Moon is blood red. Its surface is covered with the Outsider swarm. Every so often a colony achieves sufficient mass to disconnect from the moon and fall down onto Alyria as a fine blood rain. So far, Alyria has not fallen to their assault simply because it is so big. The inhabited area of the planet is a small island compared to the enormous vastness of the Sea of Mist. Still, all too often droplets from the Weeping Moon patter down in the inhabited lands. It is only a matter of time before the swarm spreads across all the land, consuming all who stand before its crimson wave.

Bloody Heat: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:25:00.000-06:00

It’s this bloody heat. It’s making it hard to think straight. I just want to tell someone what happened to me tonight so that I won’t forget it, but it’s getting hard. Keep getting dizzy. I already threw up once. Hope no one got splattered as I leaned out the window. It’s a long way to the ground from up here in the Web.

I guess it all started last night when I was getting ready for the job. I had been casing this minor official’s house, figuring that there would be all sorts of loot inside. Took several days, but I finally figured out how to get in and nab a share of the wealth. Keepers say that generosity is a virtue, and I figure that I’m just sharing the blessing of Pheric upon them that ain’t got no generosity. Just doing my religious duty, you might say.

Anyways, I was waiting for the Devil’s Hour to get started. Ain’t no heist that I’d pull any other time. Besides, this official got them divine lights scattered all over his manor, which would have made the job extra hard. He must burn his entire ration of power on them lights, but I got to say that it is well spent. No thief worth his salt would dream of raiding him with them lights. That’s why my plan was so brilliant. Wait for the Devil’s Hour when the city shuts down and then slip in. Sure, you hear stories about demons roaming the night during the Devil’s Hour, but that’s just superstitious nonsense. Least, that’s what I thought until tonight.

Blast! My arm started twitching again. Hurts like the devil too. Bandage bled through again. Have to change it again.

Okay. That’s better. So, like I was saying, I was getting my equipment together when I glanced out the window and saw the Weeping Moon rising over the city. Now, I ain’t no superstitious man, but I got to say that it gave me chills to see it. A man of less sense than myself might have even called it an omen. For a moment, I thought about staying in and letting the heist pass, do it another night. But then I got my sense back. Ain’t no bloody moon going to get between me and my loot. Course, I was sweating up a storm by then, because of this heat, but I hoisted my pack and headed out towards my target.

My timing was perfect, as normal. Just as I rounded the corner and spotted the manor, the Devil’s Hour struck. The clock stopped. The machinery stopped. All the lights went out. No wonder folks get so scared. You get used to the noise and the light. When it all goes away, it’s scary. The silence could get to a man less hardened than myself. Why, I have even heard of folks going mad during the Devil’s Hour and throwing themselves off of buildings and stuff.

So anyway, my mark was in front of me, lit up now only by some torches and the red light of the Weeping Moon. It was time for me to start hustling. I hopped the wall easily and slipped through an open window. At least this heat is good for something. I wiped my face and looked around. I was in a bedroom of some kind. I knew that the money room was somewhere in the basement, so I eased open the door and took a look around. No one was coming, so I started sneaking down the hall, looking for the basement stairs. Good thing for me, they were at the end of the hall. Just as I started down them, though, I heard the noise.

It’s getting hard to see in this light. Everything looks so red. The Weeping Moon is shining through my window again. It’s giving me chills.

Or am I getting sick? A bit of heatstroke, maybe? I don’t feel so good.

When I heard the moan from back down the hall, I ducked down as far as I could and try to walk quietly down the stairs. Course, with my rotten luck, don’t you know that a step creaked. Footsteps came down the hall toward me. I pressed myself flat up against the wall and prayed to Pheric that I wouldn’t get seen. That’s when the thing came to the top of the stairs. I think that it was human once, but it ain’t been human for a while. It was like a body that got up and started walking. It was bleeding all over and staggered a bit as it walked. I didn’t dare even to move. Then it turned and saw me. With a howl it charged down the stairs at me. I tried to get out of the way but there just wasn’t the room. It plowed into me and we both fell down the stairs. It was kicking and punching and clawing and biting even as we tumbled down the stairs. That’s why I’m so cut up. Its blood smeared all over my clothes as I tried to get away. I managed to push it off of me and then kick it in the head. Its head snapped back with a crack and it fell on the floor. I was stunned. I hadn’t meant to kill it, although there ain’t no way I was losing sleep over it neither. It tried to get me and got its just deserts. Ain’t no skin off my back.

So, I started listening real good and didn’t hear no other noise. Still I figured that I ain’t got much time, right? So I decided that I’d best grab some loot and run. As I went to open the door going into the basement, though, I almost slipped in a puddle. Looking down, I saw more blood oozing out from under the door. This seemed strange to me, so I opened the door carefully so that I could peer inside.

It was just awful. The entire basement was covered in blood. It covered the floor. It dripped from the ceiling. It ran down the walls. Sure, there was some loot in the room but it was also covered in blood. I was trying to decide how badly I wanted the money when I felt something creeping up my leg.

Now I got the shakes. I’m almost done and then I’ll rest. Yes, rest.

The Weeping Moon is looking at me. It’s laughing. I know it is. Curse you, moon! I know what you’re thinking. You want me to jump! I’m not going to do it. I’m not a lunatic. I’m going to stay here and finish talking to my friend!

It’s still laughing.

Some of the blood was running up my leg. That’s right. It was crawling up my leg, like it was trying to cover me. My leg started burning. I screamed and bolted up the stairs. At the top I turned and looked. It was coming after me! The giant red flow was seeping up the stairs! Worse, I could hear it chuckling, laughing, calling my name in a thousand different voices. Slowly part of it formed into a face. My face....

I can’t talk no more. My arm hurts. I’m hot and sweaty. Now I’m starting to see things. My old bandages are starting to move over there in the corner. Everything is turning red. Even my sweat is red. The moon is playing tricks on me. Well, it won’t get the last laugh! You’ll see! You’ll see!

What am I saying? I must have heatstroke or something. Look, I’m going to go lie down now. I’m sure that I’ll feel better in the morning. It’s just this bloody heat that’s driving me crazy. This bloody, bloody heat.

The Unicorns and the Chosen

1990-01-01T01:24:00.000-06:00

Unicorns. Mighty, noble beasts with sparkling manes and thundering hoofs. A golden blazing horn. Beings of fiery glory.

Even more than the dragons, the unicorns are a source of confusion and speculation. There is no recorded mention of their first appearance on Alyria. However, the stories about them abound. Some claim that the Nameless Warrior rode a unicorn when he slew the Lord of Pain. Sailors tell tales of seeing a unicorn galloping across the surface of the Sea of Mist to do battle with a mist wraith or dragon that was poised to attack their ship. The Web is filled with rumors of the discovery of remains of murderous criminals, their bodies gored through the heart or trampled by some beast. Even the Citadel has its tale of a harsh and treacherous High Lord who was slain by a unicorn in the Council Chamber itself. If the tales are to be believed, the unicorns are avengers of the good and destroyers of the dark. Perhaps the tales exaggerate. However, the purpose of the unicorns is obvious: the protection of goodness, truth and beauty in Alyria, and the utter destruction of all that is dark and evil in the land.

The purpose behind this is unclear. Scholars of the Ark speculate that the unicorns are a natural predator upon the dragons, but this explanation does not seem to fit the facts. The official Keeper dogma is that they are servants of Pheric, sent to judge the land. Perhaps the best explanation comes from a farmer who was saved from a demented Blessed by a unicorn: “They are our guardian angels.”

If the unicorns were to call someplace their home, it would be the mystical Garden that appears at times throughout the land of Alyria. However, they are rarely allowed to rest, as they are constantly passing throughout the land, seeking out the workers of evil and destroying them. As such, they are the natural enemies of the dragons and their dark cult.

The unicorns are wise in their conflict with the dragons, knowing that they must both oppose the dragons and their cultists as well as heal the hurt from their depredations. Therefore, the unicorns enlist humans in their ongoing struggle, gifting them with power and ability, such as the power to heal or to call down holy fire from heaven. These Chosen are then sent out to work against the dark plans of the dragon cultists. Some of these conflicts are earth-shattering, with holy fire meeting dark poison in a mystical duel. Others are more subtle, with both Chosen and cultist struggling to sway the heart of a single child. Yet each one is significant, and each victory or loss sways the tide of the battle.

The path of the Chosen is a hard one. Many have had to operate in secret, hiding from the Keeper Inquisition or the security forces of the Ark. Others have wandered long and lonely roads in the wilderness, passing from one small village to another. Some have been cast out by their communities and abandoned by families. Others have been denounced as Misbegotten or, worse, as Blessed. Still others have paid the ultimate price.

Truly, the world is not worthy of them.

Horn of the Unicorn: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:23:00.000-06:00

Written by Mark Eddy

She wasn't going to make it. He could tell that, just from the way she wasn't moving. But he worked on to spite death. She had been caught, an innocent bystander (if any in this godforsaken tangle known as the Web was truly innocent), when the actions of two opposing gangs higher in the Web had dropped a section of walkway onto her hovel. The rest of her family were either hale or dead, but her right arm was a mangled mess, and her blood was everywhere.

He mentally cursed the fools below, the ones who had some medical knowledge, but shared it only sparingly. The ones who had taught him a mere pittance and then exiled him when he tried to learn more. He knew that the bones needed to lie straight if they were to heal, but he couldn't figure out how to hold them in place when the muscles were so badly torn.

His preoccupation deafened him to the silence of the crowd who had come to witness the tragedy of a family destroyed. He didn't even notice the delicate chime of cloven hoofs lightly tripping behind him, or he may have moved aside. He did notice, though, when the delicately spiraled single horn slid over his shoulder to touch his hands.
“You desire knowledge and skill?” The voice inside his head seemed to resonate with the scent of fresh roses. “Will you use them to help and heal, without rancor, without reservation?”

His helpless rage fell away, quenched by the wild hope that was suddenly rising within him. He felt the Presence in his mind, sifting his soul, looking for steel among the dross, or seeds within the soil, or perhaps merely a spark of humanity that had not been stifled by the pain around him.

“Of course you will. You could do nothing else.” The voice was amused now, almost like lilacs in sunshine. “You are Chosen, to be a healer and a guide. I will show you what you seek, if you are willing to step aside...”

As the voice trailed off meaningfully, he stood, and moved to one side, watching as the horn dipped. Miraculously, nerve and vein and bone and muscle and skin were knit back together. But there was more. He now knew how to do that kind of healing -- the kind that restored the body to wholeness. And he understood that he could heal minds and spirits in the same way, because his were now healed.

“Beware, though.” And now the sadness in the voice was like fallen maple leaves. “You bear a Unicorn's horn, but there are those who bear the Dragons' fire. You will know them, but they will also know you. Walk carefully, my son.” And, as the woman at his feet began to stir, the Unicorn faded into mist and wafted away.

The murmur of the crowd returned, this time in shocked amazement at the miracle they had just witnessed. And old Lucian Mender realized he was now much more than what he had been before.

The Garden

1990-01-01T01:22:00.000-06:00

Not all is dark in the world of Alyria. Somewhere, just out of sight, just out of reach, there lies the Garden. Soft sunlight falls like rain on soft green grass and cold clear water. The wind pirouettes between the trees and dances beneath the fountains and waterfalls of that enchanted land. There the unicorns come to rest, lying beside the pure streams. All is peaceful. All is calm. It is a taste of heaven on earth.

No one really knows what the Garden is. The Keepers try to study it, but in vain. The dragons wish to destroy it, but they cannot find it. It is nowhere, and it is everywhere. Many have quested to find the Garden but have returned empty-handed. But to the helpless, to the needy, to the wounded, it is near. It matters not where you are. The next alleyway, the next steam tunnel, the third tree from the right, all could be the entrance to the Garden. It has appeared even on the Sea of Mist itself to offer comfort and solace to those who need it. You cannot find the Garden; it must find you.

All is light in the Garden. Soft grass and beautiful trees spread in all directions. Gentle animals meander through the thickets and drink from the crystal water. In the distance a fountain speaks its watery voice, spreading a giddy joy. Here by the stream, the rustle of the leaves and the babble of water mix in a symphony of joy. The sky is clear and bright, a blue so intense that it almost hurts to see it. Not a cloud mars that intense blue, nor does the sun drown it out, for there is no sun. Certainly there is light, but it is everywhere. Perhaps the very air is luminescent, as everything seems to glow with an inner light. Here there is peace. Here there is joy.

Not only animals dwell in the Garden; there are also the Ones who Wait. They pass silently through the Garden, clad in white robes, ministering to those who are brought here. Some need healing, and it is given. Others need comfort, and they are given a shoulder to cry on and good counsel. Others simply need to gaze on the beauty of the Garden, and they are left to themselves to watch in wonder at the beauty that surrounds them.

No one can stay within the Garden forever. Eventually it fades away and the weary traveler is left precisely where he had been, with the taste of Paradise on his tongue and the songs of Paradise fading in his ears. And yet, the legend says that one day the Garden will come to rest and it will spread across the land. The pain and ugliness, the death and the mourning, the hatred and the bloodshed will all be wiped away in a final blaze of glory as once and for all the Garden finds those for whom it was sent.

The Beautiful People: A Tale of Alyria

1990-01-01T01:21:00.000-06:00

If you walk into the Citadel, just down the street from the clock tower of Kron, if you are particularly unlucky, you might see a little alleyway between two wrecked buildings. That used to be home. That’s where I used to do business. Me. Jane. I lived there and I sold me. That’s right. Jane, the prostitute. Plain Jane, the whore. But no longer.

Oh I know what men called me. Best lay in the Fifth District. Do one at a time or all together. Jane don’t care. That’s all they knew. They didn’t care when they were panting over me, breathing heavy. They didn’t care that I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to watch. Didn’t care that I hid away in a corner of my mind while they did what they did to me. In the middle of an orgy, all alone.

It was killing me. One day at a time, it drained my soul. I could see it in my eyes. They stared at me from the mirror, dead and empty. Once they used to dance with life. That’s what I told myself. I remember birthdays and picnics, happy shouts and...Nothing. The dead eyes stared accusingly at me from the mirror as I got ready for another night of business. I could feel them on my back as I leave the room.

Sometimes, when it was early in the morning and all the johns had gone home or were passed out drunk in the gutter, I’d clean up as best I could and I’d sit out in the alleyway. Most times the Weeping Moon would be setting, and its light would leak across the sky like blood, like the time I slit my wrists in the bath and watched the redness swirl through the dirty bathwater. Mist and smoke twist across the sky, but sometimes, just sometimes, I could see a single star beaming down from the sky. It was almost like some happy spirit in the sky was reaching down to me in the middle of all this mist and fear and iron and pain. I cannot tell you how often I have wanted to reach out my hands, grab on to that fragile beam of light, and just fly away.

Sometimes I would pretend that I climbed that beam of light into another world. I climb and climb and climb and then suddenly I would be surrounded with light. The sun breaks over the horizon and I can see that I am standing on soft puffy clouds and surrounded by a sky so intensely blue that it is almost painful. Beautiful people live here. I can see them all around me. Some of them are laughing and some are playing and no one is angry, no one at all, and they call to me and I run to them and they love me I am so alone I want someone to love me why won’t anyone love me.

But then I would wake up, alone except for my thoughts and the bitter tears that fell from my cold dead eyes.

That night was supposed to be my night off. I was going to go shopping in the market, looking for a flower to brighten my room. But Myra came down with a hideous cough and Piter told me that there was no way that he was going to get any business if Myra was on duty tonight. Never mind that he made me work when I was burning with a fever. Myra was just too precious to little Piter. She was his prize heifer, and she knew it.

So sundown found me at the mouth of my alley, working the street. Pose body like so. Call out seductive phrase. Flirt with eyes. I run through my checklist. The act had become second-nature to me; I could have done it in my sleep. Still, the night was slow. Several men and even a couple of women stop to check me out but each continued on their separate ways. “That’s right,” I thought. “Just keep going. If you leave me alone, then perhaps I will have peace tonight.”

Then he stopped at the mouth of the alley, and I knew that my first customer of the night had arrived. I mouthed the empty words of lust that he expected to hear as I led him back to my room. He said very little, but his eyes... His eyes frightened me. They were hard and uncaring. They spoke of untold cruelty, of pain given, of slow torturous death.

We arrived at my room and I asked for my payment. He refused, saying that he would pay after he has received service. I insisted. Then he hit me. Just once, but very hard. I flew across the room. Wiping blood from my mouth, I ordered him to leave. With a single movement, he was across the room, picking me up, hurling me onto the bed. I tried to kick, tried to scream, but his hand was over my mouth and then he was in me. I fought, I struggled, but he hit me again and again, even as he thrust into me. All the while those dead eyes never changed, not with rage, not with lust. Blows battered me as I was violated and I plunged into a darkness with no bottom, followed only by those eyes...

***

Pain filled my world as I opened my eyes. My vision was dark, and the ceiling wavered as I struggled to sit up. Blackness threatened to swallow me as the room spun and twisted. I staggered, vomited blood, and collapsed into the puddle. I could not feel my arms or legs. Far away I could hear the beautiful people singing but I thought they only mocked my pain. The thought suddenly occurred to me. “I’m dying.” I considered this for a moment, and then I was glad. I welcomed the thought of death. Death, a cold numbness to remove my pain. I closed my eyes and waited for the end.

Then gentle hands lifted me. Soft voices spoke to me. I opened my eyes and I saw two women in softly glowing robes kneeling over me. My room had faded away into radiant mist. Instead of the hum and clank of machinery, I heard the babble of a stream and the rushing of leaves blowing in the wind. As my eyes cleared, I saw that I was lying in a beautiful garden. My bed was of soft green grass. With a smile, one of the women held out her hand to me. Slowly, painfully, I took it.

Together we staggered down to the water’s edge. Sunlight glistened from the crystal water, and for a moment I thought that the stream was a river of gold. “Come,” she said. “You must be washed.” Slowly she began to wade out into the stream. But I hung back. I could not enter that stream. I was filthy. I was covered in blood. I would pollute that beautiful stream. I shrank back in fear and shame. She turned and smiled. “Come,” she repeated. I shook my head wordlessly, almost in a panic. With a gentle smile she returned to the bank of the stream. Without another word, she lifted me in her arms. I tried to struggle, but I was too weak. So I clung to her like a baby to her mother. Turning, she waded into the stream. Slowly I was immersed.

It was a feeling that I had never felt before. It was as though all my pain and fear, my anger and my sorrow, all was swept away. I was clean, clean as I had never been.

And then I saw Him. The Gardener. Oh, sirs, if you could only see His face for a moment... But you cannot. How could you? You will only see Him when He chooses to be seen by you.

I could have gazed into that face forever. He smiled at me and placed His hand on my forehead. It burned, it burned like white fire into my brain. The world was burned away in that blaze until all I could see were those precious, precious eyes. Then He whispered a single word and passed His hand over my eyes.

What did He whisper? I cannot say for certain. But I know that it is the word that is written on my forehead, the word that all your scholars strive to read but cannot. Strange, isn’t it? So many others have seen that word and knew immediately what it means.

However, I know what that word means to me. He put it there, and it means that I am His.

I awoke in my room. My wounds were healed. My pain was gone. And, somehow, I knew what He wanted me to do. In a voice of power, I called for fire, and the room burned behind me as I walked out of the Citadel into the wilderness. Once I stopped and looked back. The smoke rose in the moonlight like a blood-red column into the sky. Then, as I watched, the clouds parted and the smoke ascended through the tear in the sky, up, up to the stars.

And so, sirs, that is my story. I know that it will not change your judgment or sway your feelings. I know that you still think me to be a rabble-rouser, preaching a strange religion to the people under your sway. I know that you still see me as a false prophetess, preaching against Pheric, your so-called god. I know that I will still stand condemned before this Council of Inquisition and be taken away to my death. But that does not matter to me. Because I know that I am one of the beautiful people, and tonight I will be clothed in white when the Garden receives me from your hand. And there is nothing that you can do to change that. Nothing at all.

Other Ideas

1990-01-01T01:20:00.000-06:00

By now it should be obvious that there is a lot of space left in the world of Alyria. Lots of areas are left blank or detailed only briefly. There is good reason for this. You need room to create. The setting in this game is only a framework for your story, and you need room to move.

For example, does the Citadel have colonies? The canon setting does not say. One gaming group might want to set one of their stories in a community that is culturally Citadel but without the color elements of the Citadel (e.g. the constant rain, the heavy steampunk elements). So, for this group, the Citadel has colonies. Another group might want to focus on the xenophobia and decadence of the Citadel (similar to Jack Vance's novella, The Last Castle.) For this group, it makes no sense for the Citadel to have colonies.

In addition, as you go about tweaking and adjusting the setting, you should remember that style and symbolism are more important than internal consistency. The canon setting of Alyria was designed primarily for aesthetic impact, not logical extrapolation of a particular situation. So don’t worry about trying to explain all the science of your new addition. Instead, concentrate on the symbolic or narrative possibilities of your new creation. For example, I drew on Biblical symbolism when creating the Weeping Moon. “The sun will be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes.” (Joel 2:31) The presence of the blood-red moon in the world is supposed to add a sense of impending apocalyptic doom to the setting. Therefore, I created the harbinger of the Outsiders before I knew anything about the Outsiders or their deadly blood rain. An Alyria setting element isn't required to make sense on a rational level, but it is supposed to make sense on an emotional level.

Other Ideas--The Black Tower

1990-01-01T01:19:00.000-06:00

Hidden in the mountains, far from the Ark or the Core, there is a beautiful lake. The water is still and cold, reflecting with icy precision the stark blue sky. In the middle of this lake is an island, upon which is built a single tower. It is not a large building but it is sufficient for its purpose. For it is the headquarters of the Black Tower, a secret conspiracy of Blessed, devoted to the development, control, and refinement of the Blessing. Many Blessed see the Black Tower as their only hope for acceptance within a semblance of normal society anywhere. Others see it as a way of making the world pay for its persecution of the Blessed.

The Black Tower is run like a guild. There are apprentices, journeymen, and masters, just like any other guild. Yet it lacks the stability of other guilds because of the high death toll among its members. It is hard to learn the mental discipline required to control the Blessing. Many die trying, and others lose their lives to a simple lapse. There are only a few masters of the Black Tower, and they often conceal themselves, spending their time in meditation, struggling to control the raging power within.

The Black Tower has lofty goals, yet even the best cause requires funding. So, on occasion, the Black Tower accepts donations from various anonymous contributors. In return, the Black Tower expresses its gratitude in terms acceptable to the contributor. And so a political rival perishes in the night, or a precious item vanishes from a secure vault. The Black Tower knows how to repay its debts.

What would happen if a High Lord hired the Black Tower to intervene in an ongoing political dispute with another High Lord? What if Ark troops stumbled onto the secret lake? What if an apprentice tried to flee the Black Tower, taking his knowledge of the location of the Tower with him? What if a journeyman on assignment refused to carry it out?

Other Ideas--The Sisterhood

1990-01-01T01:18:00.000-06:00

Many strange communities exist in the vast stretches of wilderness still unexplored by the Citadel. The Sisterhood is one of them. The Sisterhood is not a country per se. Rather it is a loose confederacy of independent estates. Each estate is ruled by a woman who is served by all the men on her estate. They are hers to do with as she wishes. They are her servants, her warriors, her lovers. They live and die at her command.

Girls are preferred to boys. If a Sister gives birth to a girl, immediately the child is hailed as an heir and is raised like a princess. If a Sister births a boy, however, he is tolerated. Once he is weaned, he is sent to the male quarters to be raised as a man.

The men are not effeminate weaklings, though. Though they are slaves of the women, they still maintain their male identity. One way in which this shows is in their secret rituals, such as the Rite of Passage. In this Rite, a boy seeking to become a man must run the gauntlet by passing between two lines of men, each flailing at him with sticks. If he passes through to the other side, he is hailed as a man. If not, he is still a boy. These rituals are often bloody and violent, and the women are not permitted to attend.

The Sisterhood is a stable community…for now. What if one of the men became too rebellious and left the Sisterhood? What if a man tried to lead an uprising against the women? What if the Ark found the Sisterhood? What if a patrol of Sisterhood men came into contact with a column of Citadel soldiers?

Other Ideas--The Five Hundred

1990-01-01T01:17:00.000-06:00

Every High Lord has his elite guards that watch over his manor, guard his rest, and perform his most delicate tasks. One of these elite units has existed from before the discovery of Alyria. They are the Five Hundred.

In the beginning there were five hundred men in this fighting unit. Each of them was equipped with a nanotech suit of armor that molded to his body and could reshape itself with only a mental command. With but a thought, a normal human being could gird himself with quicksilver armor and dash into battle. This armor could protect both from weaponry and from the ravages of the outer Sea of Mist. It also functioned as the sole weapon for the men of the Five Hundred as it could extrude blades or other weapons. A single warrior clad in quicksilver armor is a powerful force on the battlefield.

The Five Hundred acquitted themselves well during the Rape. Wherever the fighting was heaviest, one of their number would appear to rally the faltering troops. The price that they paid was bitter. Fully two hundred of their number perished in the streets of Kryshana.

The general of the Five Hundred would not allow this state of events to continue. He mustered his unit and had them gather two hundred men who had fought well during the Rape. These men were inducted into the unit. Each one replaced one of the fallen, receiving the dead man’s name and quicksilver armor. Thus the bravery of the dead warriors would not be forgotten.

This tradition has continued until this day. Whenever one of the Five Hundred dies, his armor is collected by a comrade. Then a replacement is nominated. In a secret ceremony, the novice swears absolute fealty to the High Lord and receives his armor and name.

What sort of mission would require the personal attention of one of the Five Hundred? What about a squad of the Five Hundred? Does it violate the code of honor of the Five Hundred to act as assassins? How do the other High Lords react to the High Lord who commands the Five Hundred? Do the Keepers lay claim to the “magical” quicksilver armor used by the Five Hundred? Who controls the nomination process for new warriors, and for what purpose?

Other Ideas--The Isle of Refuge

1990-01-01T01:16:00.001-06:00

Somewhere deep in the Sea of Mist is a small island. It is not listed on any charts of the Sea. Its existence is not officially acknowledged by the Citadel or the Keepers. Yet in the underground community of Misbegotten and Blessed, it is a legendary haven of peace and rest. It is none other than the Isle of Refuge, a place where all are welcome and none are turned away. Misbegotten, rogue Restored, Blessed, all can be found on this island, joined in peace and harmony. It is the perfect place to be, if you are an outcast.

Or is it? No one knows who runs the Island. Certainly, the Council is said to oversee the people of the island, but no one knows who is on the Council. Is this for their protection? Or is there a darker secret being hidden?

What if a mist ship ran aground on the Isle of Refuge? Would the scared sailors be able to cooperate with its misshapen inhabitants? Would the rogue Restored try to recruit the Restored crew of the ship? What if the mist ship were a troop transport? What if the Citadel actually controls the Isle, using it like a concentration camp for the undesired? What if the dragon cultists run the island, feeding off the pain and sorrow of those that dwell there?

Other Ideas--The Dragon Spawn

1990-01-01T01:16:00.000-06:00

The dragons were not content merely to gift their cultists with dark power. Some they took and twisted, both in body and soul, to create monstrous beings of tremendous power. These dragon spawn, as they are called, establish themselves in mighty citadels and rule over the dark and twisted dragonrealms that are found in the depths of the wilderness of Alyria. The trees of these dragonrealms are huge and twisted, and the mountains themselves are wracked with agony. The animals are twisted into dark Misbegotten, bloodthirsty and sadistic. The land screams out in pain. And, what is worse, the corruption is spreading.

What if a small farming village found itself on the verge of being absorbed into a dragonrealm? How would the populace react when the monsters began attacking the outlying homes? What about when the crops began to wither? Would they choose to leave, or would they choose to fight? How can the corruption of a dragonrealm be reversed, anyways?

Other Ideas--The Digger Paladins

1990-01-01T01:15:00.000-06:00

(Dedicated to Jürgen Mayer)
The plague that created the Blessed and the Misbegotten lowered many men to the level of animals. It also raised some animals to the level of men.

The Diggers live far to the south. Once they were aardvarks, brought to Alyria by the Progenitors. Now they are something more, a hybrid created by the ravaging plague of the Rape. It is not safe for such as them to wander the land. Men are afraid of that which they do not know, and the Diggers are truly alien to the human eye. For their part, the Diggers are content to live in their burrows and hunt game, far from human lands. It was this way for many years. Peace reigned over the land.
But it could not last. One night the Weeping Moon rose above the lands of the Diggers, and the Outsiders rained down. That night, the Diggers rediscovered war. As the blood tide of Outsiders rushed through their burrows, they stood fast to defend their homes. Many Diggers died that night, which is now known as the Night of Blood. Yet they were victorious, and as they drove the Outsiders from their land, they discovered that they were strong.

They also discovered that Outsiders were quite tasty. After all, the Progenitors had neglected to import ants for the aardvarks to eat.

Soon after this, the visitations began. A Digger would awaken from sleep with a faraway look in his eyes. Taking a weapon, he would leave the burrows and vanish into the northlands. One by one, the greatest of the Diggers left the burrows. Each one spoke of having seen the same vision. A great city of iron burning with flame. The Blood Moon rising over a wasteland covered with Digger bones. Dragons circling in the sky. Then a voice calling out, crying for aid, and a unicorn galloping across the sky. And a feeling, an urge, a need, to follow that unicorn into battle.
Thus, one by one, the Digger Paladins left their homelands and journeyed into the world of men, where they did great and marvelous deeds that are still sung in the burrows of their people. But none of them ever returned to their lands in the soft green hills of the south.

Were the visions true, or were they a shared delusion? What sorts of deeds would Digger Paladins do? How would a Digger react to the “civilized” world? What does a sentient aardvark look like, anyways? Why didn’t the Digger Paladins return home?

Other Ideas--The Bag

1990-01-01T01:14:00.000-06:00

One of the most diabolical artifacts created by the dragon cultists, the Bag appears to be a simple velvet bag. However, The Bag has the power to produce anything desired from its inky depths. All you have to do is ask for it and reach inside. But The Bag exerts a double price. First, whatever The Bag creates will inevitably turn itself to evil, pain and corruption. Second, the holder of The Bag will become increasingly addicted to it, refusing to give it up for any reason. Moreover, The Bag has its own purposes. It is patient, but it will eventually bring its owner to ruin and then move on to the next victim.

How can such an item be destroyed? Who might be trying to recover this Bag? Whatever happened to this item’s creator? Could The Bag be redeemed?

Other Ideas--The Sea of Darkness

1990-01-01T01:13:00.000-06:00

The Progenitors hedged their bets. Somewhere in Alyria, probably near the Core, are two functioning shuttles from the Progenitor ship. The actual spaceship is still in orbit around Alyria. It is still in functioning order. Of course, Alyrians know nothing of spaceships. However, they might understand space as the Sea of Darkness, analogous with the famous Sea of Mist. Perhaps the Alyrians would see the Progenitor ship as a darkship, designed to sail on the Sea of Darkness. What sort of crew would be required to man such a ship? Who might find these shuttles? What would the ruling powers be willing to do to claim them? What sorts of stresses are involved in space travel? What would intrepid explorers find in the Sea of Darkness? Have the Outsiders consumed the worlds that circle other stars? Or have other human civilizations arisen from the panic of the Long Exodus?

Preparing to Play

1990-01-01T01:12:00.000-06:00

When a group of people gathers to play a board game, they must take the time to set up the game. Pieces are sorted, cards are shuffled, and the board is set in place. Legends of Alyria also requires a certain amount of preparation to play. However, unlike a board game, very little of this preparation is physical. Rather, it consists of creating and organizing the characters and situations that will be used to create the legend. This chapter explains how to go about preparing to play Legends of Alyria.

Motifs

1990-01-01T01:11:00.000-06:00

Legends of Alyria has certain aesthetic approaches that are important distinctives of the game. Not all of these will be used in every game, but it is important that the players have an understanding of them. These motifs are what make Alyria so special. Through the poetry of these elements, the world comes alive.

Motifs--Mist

1990-01-01T01:10:00.000-06:00

Alyria is a world of mist. It is the feeling of an early morning walk, when the mist still clings to the trees and cloaks them in magic. It is the feeling of wonder when the lands of Faerie open before you in your mind’s eye and the cloudy veil parts to reveal the delicate beauty of that land’s inhabitants. It is the feeling of mystery when the fog shrouds the dark city streets through which you hurry, seeking shelter from the night. It is the feeling of terror, when something moves in the haze just beyond the limits of vision as you blunder through the deep forest. It is beauty and wonder and melancholy and horror. Alyria is a world that is touched by both Heaven and Hell, where beauty and horror spiral with wild abandon. Here are mighty beauties and terrifying ugliness, somber darkness and raging light, magic and mystery and beauty and woe, hidden and swirling in the ever-cloaking mists.

Alyria should feel wondrous and mystical and melancholy, all rolled into one. You can incorporate some of this sense of mystery and melancholy into the storymaps that you create by including characters that incorporate this theme. Misbegotten or Restored characters do quite well at providing a melancholy touch, and a well-crafted Chosen character can insert a sense of the mystical. Unusual abilities or technologies can add to the wonder incorporated by a character. Use these touches in setting descriptions as well. Accentuate what is alien about the world. Describe the Weeping Moon rising over the horizon or tell of the mist ship sailing out to sea. Include those setting elements that excite in you a sense of the wondrous, and you will be able to communicate this sense of wonder to your fellow players.

Motifs--Iron

1990-01-01T01:09:00.000-06:00

Alyria is a world of iron. It is the feeling of oppression as you cower in the shadow of a mighty skyscraper. It is the feeling of despair as a prison door clangs shut. It is the feeling of darkness as a flower is crushed underfoot by iron-shod feet. It is the feeling of horror as a trail of blood flows down a sewer grate. It is the feeling of agony as a suffering people are herded into the ovens. Alyria is a broken world, ruled by violence and corruption. The powerful flourish and the weak are shattered. The gears clank and the factories fume and the helpless are lost in the haze and crushed beneath the heavy iron skies.

Alyria is a dark setting, and it should feel dark and oppressive. Some characters or settings should be harsh, cruel, and oppressive. The two major superpowers are each oppressive in their own ways. The Citadel crushes its people under the weight of its technological might, and the Ark strips its people of their individuality. Even the small villages of the wilderness can be cruel and unforgiving to outsiders or to those that violate the unspoken rules of the community. This can even be incorporated into the background of a scene by showing a peasant being brutalized by soldiers or simply by emphasizing the faceless crowds filing through the long corridors, each wearing an expressionless mask.

Motifs--Evil

1990-01-01T01:08:00.000-06:00

Alyria is a world of evil. We all stare into the abyss and find that we are damned. Darkness taints us all, and through it the world is scarred. Some openly embrace the darkness, yet many others pursue it blindly, calling it by other names. Some call it “power”. Some call it “money”. Some call it “vengeance”. Some call it “religion”. Some call it “God”. Yet evil is rarely as powerful as it appears. It is not a mighty creator. Rather it is a gnawing in darkness, a vile loathing of what is good, a selfish demanding that the world bow to me, me, me. Evil is not found first in great and powerful villains. It is found in the petty act, the little cheat, the tiny white lie. And yet, it is so sweet. So sweet and seductive. How easy it is to take that first step into the willing darkness. It tantalizes, it seduces, but in the end all it can offer is the void, the empty gnawing hunger for something more.

Evil is a hideous thing in Alyria. However, it should not become a cliché. There is a place for dramatic evil, like a dark ritual involving human sacrifice. However, evil in Alyria extends to simple selfishness in the face of greater need. What if one of the characters was a miser, hoarding his money and refusing to share? Not quite the riveting face of evil. However, this was Ebenezer Scrooge’s evil that was the focus of A Christmas Carol. Such evil is not meaningless, and including it does not trivialize evil. In fact, this view takes evil quite seriously, because it does not excuse evil on a small scale.

Motifs--Good

1990-01-01T01:07:00.000-06:00

Alyria is a world of good. That raging force which brings terror to the hearts of shadowed man. No one ever embraces the good, unless it first embraces them. Tenderness and fury meet together and are not contradicted. The same hand that dispenses mercy may also dispense justice. And there is justice for the wicked. Forces both human and supernal wage war against the darkness, fighting with sword and flame and mercy and sacrifice, laying down their lives for others. The darkness struggles but cannot encompass such an enemy. To cling to the light is to be burned, burned beyond belief, burned yet purified, blazing as the dark taint of the world is consumed forever. Yet the good is so often cloaked, hidden in frailty, cloaked in weakness, overlooked and undervalued. Yet there is power there, power that cannot be denied, power that will not be denied.

Good is often stereotyped in modern fantasy, being shown as weak or flimsy or frail or simply boring. However, there is plenty of drama and intensity in good. Part of the problem is that many assume that “good” must equal “gentle” and fail to see how true goodness requires justice. The unicorns of Alyria hunt evildoers and hound them to their deaths. This is righteous vengeance and is totally appropriate. Alyria requires that room be allowed for divine justice. At the same time, good is often underestimated because good is often subtle or veiled. Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings is an excellent example of this principle. So, as you include good in your game, you will also need to determine what flavor of good should be used. Veiled or unveiled? Justice or mercy? Maybe a bit of both? There is room for lots of variation.

Storymap Preparation

1990-01-01T01:06:00.000-06:00

In Legends of Alyria, all the players in the gaming group share in the preparation of the situation, immediate setting, and major characters. The results of this preparation are outlined as a tangle of characters and relationships called a storymap. Creation of a quality storymap is central to an enjoyable game of Legends of Alyria. Therefore, it is important that the gaming group put sufficient care into the prep work that needs to be done. Rushed preparation will lead to bland or frustrating play. Generally speaking, it is best if the entire first session be devoted exclusively to preparation of this storymap.

Here are the steps for preparation of the storymap.
1. State the conflict
2. Create the major roles
3. Create the character relationships
4. Assign the roles
5. Generate the character attributes
6. Create the priming event

Storymap Preparation--State the Conflict

1990-01-01T01:05:00.000-06:00

The very first step is to decide on the basic conflict for the chronicle. This can be very simple (defeating the dragon cultists that are threatening a village) or complex (roleplaying a war between the Citadel and Ark, including various characters on both sides as well as neutral parties caught in the middle). Whatever the central conflict, it will be the foundation for the rest of the preparations, so choose well. Remember to get all the players involved in deciding this. After all, they are going to be playing, too.

Although they are not recorded on the storymap as such, conflicts are what provide energy to a storymap. Without conflict, there is no story. Interesting conflicts make for interesting stories.

Legends of Alyria was designed primarily with moral conflicts in mind. Therefore, it is these sorts of conflicts that should be the focus of a game. Secondary conflicts, such as survival against the harsh forces of nature, should be used only to intensify the primary moral conflicts.

A moral conflict needs to be seen primarily as a collision of values. This collision can be external, occurring between two characters, or it can be internal, occurring within a single character. Storymaps might include external or internal conflicts or perhaps both, depending on the story being created.

So what makes for interesting moral conflicts? Some common elements immediately stand out.

First, an interesting moral conflict often requires that the decision between the two colliding value systems should be challenging. Perhaps it is difficult to apply ethical principles to the situation. Perhaps there is a payoff to the immoral choice that is attractive. For example, you ambush your enemy in the wilderness and capture him. He is at your mercy. You know that he is untrustworthy and, moreover, that he is a cowardly murderer. Your friend urges you to kill him and be done with it, while your enemy cowers and begs for mercy. What do you do? (By the way, this is exactly what happens to Frodo in The Lord of the Rings when he and Sam capture Gollum.)

Second, a moral conflict can gain interest and intensity if the character’s relationships are bound up with the decision. What if the aggressor against your village is your long-lost son? What if your beloved is spiraling downward into dark obsession? Choosing to oppose them means that you must break that relationship. Or is there another way? The stakes are higher when the character must choose between warring values and passions. (The situations just mentioned are exactly what happen to Jochebed in “Blood of Haven”.)

Finally, a moral conflict can be made more interesting if there is a high cost tied to the choices that are made. This can be true of both good and evil choices. What of the newly initiated dragon cultist who is required to rape his mother as an act of worship? Even if his relationship with his mother is not part of the storymap, the high cost of making such a decision emphasizes it. The same goes for a simple peasant who chooses death before dishonoring his distant lord. His sense of duty is valued more than his life, and he pays the price. Costly decisions make a moral conflict more interesting.

Storymap Preparation--Create the Major Roles

1990-01-01T01:04:00.000-06:00

Once the central conflict is in place, the major roles should be created. These will be all the primary characters involved in the central conflict. No game stats are needed at this point. Instead, focus on describing the characters’ personalities and goals. Do not try to create a complete picture of each character at this point. Rather, get a sense of the place of each role within the established conflicts. More details may develop during the rest of the storymap creation process, which is perfectly acceptable.

This is a critical stage in the creation of a storymap. Characters are the building blocks of the storymap and the main actors in the story itself. Therefore, in order to have a quality storymap, you need to have interesting characters.

What is an interesting character? The ultimate answer is that an interesting character is one that speaks to you in some way, moving you to connect with him emotionally. This connection can be positive or negative, but it must occur in order for the character to be considered “interesting” in any way. As you can see, this identification will vary from one person to the next. However, here are some tips on creating characters that provoke a strong reaction.

Make a character that is interesting to the other players, not just you. Remember the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” This applies in a couple of ways. First, you may not end up playing the character that you are creating. Therefore, if you are crafting a character that is not gripping, you may be making the game more difficult for another player. Second, your fellow players are your audience, and you are supposed to be working to entertain them. As such, you have a responsibility to create characters that will engage them.

Make the character a real person. Do not settle for clichés. Rather, ask yourself questions about your characters. Why is your hero pursuing goodness? “Because he’s the good guy” is not a sufficient answer. Everyone makes choices about life for reasons that seem good to them. What are your hero’s reasons for making the choices that he has made? What would it take to change his mind? What has he gained as a result of his choices? What has he lost? Ask yourself questions like these about your characters.

Make the character capable of making real choices. All characters make choices. From a certain perspective, that is their primary function. In order to create an interesting character, you must allow for this character to make real choices. Saying that a character will always choose the path of evil is removing the interest from the character. You have limited his choices and made him much less interesting. (If you don’t believe me, ask yourself this question: Who is more interesting, Darth Vader or the Emperor?) Limiting a character’s choices also makes him less real. Every person in the world is capable of doing both terrible and glorious deeds when presented with the right set of circumstances. Why should your characters be any different?

Make an intense character. There should be at least one trait that sits at the core of the character. This trait should be gripped with intensity. It is the intensity of this trait that will give the character much of his interest. Even a wishy-washy fence-sitting character can be made to be intense, if his indecision is intense enough. (Thomas Covenant from The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever is an excellent example of this.)

Make a character capable of real relationships. These relationships do not need to be positive, but they need to exist. John Donne wrote, “No man is an island.” The same is true of your characters as well. A character with no relationships is a lifeless character. (For more details, see Relationships below.)

Obviously, this isn’t a magic formula for creating the perfect characters. However, following this advice will assist you in producing interesting characters.

Storymap Preparation--Create the Character Relationships

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Now it is time to begin to draw the storymap. This is a tool to assist in visualizing the relationships and conflicts between the characters. Each major role should be written in a box and connected with lines to represent the relationship or conflict. Only relationships important to the central conflict should be included. These can be actual blood relationships but can also include ties of money, power, love or hatred. In other words, these relationships are the emotional bonds or obstacles between the characters. The nature of each relationship should be noted on the storymap as well.

During this process, more detail may be added to the major roles. New roles (major and minor) may suggest themselves. This is perfectly normal. If all is proceeding well, there should be a growing synergy amongst the players that will produce new and interesting ideas. Don’t be afraid to experiment.

If characters are the building blocks of a storymap, relationships are the mortar that holds them together. It is these relationships that provide context to the characters, which gives meaning to the choices that the characters make. It does not matter how interesting a character is. If his relationships are lackluster, he will ultimately fail as a character. So, in addition to having interesting characters, a storymap must also have interesting relationships.

So then, what makes for an interesting relationship? Again, a precise definition is elusive, varying from person to person. However, there are some common threads that interesting relationships share.

First, interesting relationships are relevant to the story. Every story has certain conflicts that are being resolved. If a relationship is not relevant to one of these conflicts, then it should be ignored. It is not interesting. For example, this means that you should ignore the relationship between your character and his greengrocer. Certainly they may chat every other week, but if their relationship is not relevant, then it is not interesting.

Second, interesting relationships draw on commonly held values. Part of what makes a relationship interesting is how well it resonates with the audience. This resonance is based on the values of the audience. So, for example, the relationship between a father and son has resonance; nearly every person understands this sort of relationship. Other relationships may have different strengths for different people or cultures. A Christian may weep when reading of the martyrdom of Latimer and Ridley, for he understands the nature and intensity of their relationship to their God. An atheist reads the same story and sees only folly; his value system does not see the merit in dying for a fable. So, when you are constructing your relationships, be sure that your fellow players will understand the underlying values, or be prepared to discard them.

Establishing interesting relationships is vital, for it is from these relationships that conflicts gain their strength.

Storymap Preparation--Assign Roles

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Usually by this point players will have already staked out a certain role or roles. However, now is the time to make official any role assignments that have been claimed and to divide the rest of the roles among the players as desired. A player can play more than one role if he so desires. Any roles not taken by a player are given to the Narrator.

Storymap Preparation--Generate Characters' Game Stats

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Once your group has created the storymap, each player will need to determine the Virtue, Attributes and Traits that will define his characters.

Assign Virtue
Virtue is a declaration of the character’s overall allegiance to good or evil. Not only does Virtue establish a character’s role in a story and influence reactions to the character, it also determines the cost of Traits purchased for the character. The player should choose a Virtue rating that is appropriate to the character. Prime/Vespers is in the middle, while Lauds/Compline and Matins grow progressively evil and Terce/None and Sext grow progressively good. The Devil’s Hour only functions as a die result; it is not permitted as a Virtue choice.

Purchase Traits
Every character will have one or more moral Traits that are central to that character’s personality. These can be almost any personality trait and can include any virtue or vice. Here are some examples.

Brave
Cowardly
Obsessed
Guided
Compassionate
Sadistic
Obedient
Rebellious
Violent
Lecherous
Principled
Overconfident

Not only do Traits provide a roleplaying guide for the players, they can be used during conflict resolution to change the potential outcome.

Traits are rated using clock faces. The darker hours (Matins and Lauds/Compline) represent evil Traits and the lighter hours (Terce/None and Sext) represent good Traits. The darker the hour, the more intense the evil. Conversely, the lighter the hour, the more intense the good. There are no Prime/Vespers Traits.

Each character begins with five points to purchase Traits. Some of these Traits will be suggested by the relationships on the storymap, while others may be determined by the player’s interpretation of the character. A Trait is purchased for one point and can be of any legitimate face. In other words, a Matins Trait does not cost any more than a Lauds/Compline Trait.

Purchase Inspiration and Corruption
Inspiration and Corruption (collectively abbreviated I/C) measure the influence of Good and Evil of the character. As the character is affected by evil or performs evil acts, his Corruption increases. In the same way, a character’s Inspiration increases when he does good or is affected by good. Inspiration and Corruption are not tracked using clock faces; instead, they are each measured on a numeric scale of 0 to 5. (The effects of I/C are described in detail in a later section.)

Any points not spent on Traits must be spent on I/C at a cost of 1 point per point of Inspiration or Corruption purchased.

Purchase Attributes
The whole of a character’s effectiveness is summed up in his Attributes. All conflict resolution begins with one of the three Attributes.

Force—This is the ability to impose your will and desires on another person or entity. This does include a lot of fighting (i.e. I impose upon you my desire for you to feel pain and/or die) but it can also apply to intimidation or any other activity that is a direct imposition of force on someone else. Force is rarely subtle or hidden. Rather, it is usually fairly blatant and immediately effective.

Insight—This is the ability to be deceitful, manipulative, perceptive, wise, intelligent, and empathetic. Insight can also be used to counteract someone else’s use of Insight (e.g. hiding your true emotions from someone). Insight is usually more subtle than Force and also usually takes longer to be effective, but it can be more powerful in the long run, because it subverts the will, rather than breaking it.

Determination—This is the ability to impose your will on yourself. Ordinarily this is used to defend against someone else’s actions (e.g. resisting torture, avoiding seduction) based on pure willpower. However, it can also be used for actions based on stubbornness or endurance (e.g. crossing a desert on foot, wearing out an opponent in combat)

The player is given another five points to assign values to the character’s Attributes. The cost for an Attribute is as follows:

Name Cost
Sext: 4
Terce/None: 3
Prime/Vespers: 2
Lauds/Compline: 1
Matins: 0

Any points not spent in this step are lost.

Here are some questions to assist in the assigning of Attributes.

Force—Is your character physically strong? Is he intimidating? Does he have a forceful presence? Do people obey him out of fear? Is he a vicious fighter? These kinds of factors contribute to a high Force.

Insight—Is your character intelligent? Is he wise? Is he a good manipulator? An excellent tactician? A schemer? Perceptive? These kinds of factors contribute to a high Insight.

Determination—Is your character patient? Does he endure pain well? Does he have an iron will? Does he hold to his principles? These kinds of factors contribute to a high Determination.

Storymap Preparation--Considerations for Character Generation

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Here are some things to remember in order to avoid potential hang-ups in this process.

In Legends of Alyria, you are not your character. You should not approach character generation as a method of creating an alter ego. Rather, you are crafting the character whose story you are going to write and witness. Part of that process demands that you, as the player, sit in judgment on your character. Your character may believe things that you do not. He may think that murder is okay or that theft from the rich isn’t so bad. You, however, will mark down a Lauds/Compline in “Thief” or a Matins in “Murderous”. You will have to judge your character.

When choosing your character’s Attributes, remember that they are relative measurements, not absolutes. When you select your character’s clock faces in each Attribute, you are not defining the specifics of his physical and mental abilities. A Sext Force does not mean that your character is able to bench press a certain amount of weight. Rather, it shows how forceful your character is in relationship to the other characters in the storymap. This is important for two reasons. First, don’t let your Attributes affect your conception of your physical or mental abilities. A character with a Matins Insight could be quite intelligent, but he is just not able to apply his intelligence effectively in the context of the storymap. Second, by selecting certain Attributes, you are choosing your character’s general demeanor and communicating to the other players. Consider the difference between a villain with a high Force and a villain with a high Insight. A character with a high Force is probably going to be throwing his weight around a lot. In contrast, a villain with a high Insight is probably going to be more of a schemer, or perhaps an underhanded character.

When selecting the proper values for Virtues and Traits, remember to assign them based on your judgment as a player, not on your character’s evaluation of the matter. After all, your character might be deceiving himself, but it is your job as a player to be honest. This is particularly important with Traits. Ask yourself, “Would I want to be on the receiving end of this Trait?” If your answer is “No”, then the Trait should probably be Lauds/Compline or even Matins, regardless of what the character might think about it.

Storymap Preparation--Character Exposition

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By now, it should be obvious that Legends of Alyria does not have anything resembling an equipment list or a chart of weapons. Moreover, the information on the various cultures is intentionally vague, with only hints at the appearance of characters within these imaginary cultures. However, this does not mean that the way that a character is dressed, what he is called, or what weapons he wields are unimportant. Quite the contrary. In Legends of Alyria, these and other details about the character are perfect opportunities to express the character’s nature.

Here is a simple example. Imagine a tall man, wearing old clothes and wrapped in a worn black cloak. He wears an eye patch over his left eye, but his remaining eye is dark and piercing. At his belt is a long dagger and what appears to be a strangling cord. His voice is low and gravely as he rasps out his name: “The name’s Rat.”

This is not a lengthy description, but the details that are provided paint a vivid picture, not only of the character’s appearance but also his personality and character. Rat is most likely a thief and cutthroat who has seen many desperate days. He is probably not possessed of a strong morality and would be willing to do dirty deeds for very little money.

On the other hand, all those traits could have been chosen for irony. After all, Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings is first described as a shifty, mysterious character, whose goals and purposes are unknown. Nevertheless, he turns out to be a fast friend and have noble character and intentions. As Tolkien put it, “All that is gold does not glitter.”

Either way, the traits that are selected to describe a character are important means of providing character exposition. Through the various details that you give him, you are telling the other players how they should perceive this character.

This is particularly important when naming a character. Alyria does not have an invented language or a particular linguistic feel. Rather, names should be chosen for symbolic meaning, providing additional character exposition. So, for example, even the name “Rat” expresses something about the character.

Now, it is true that you should work within the broad parameters established by the setting of your story. For example, all Arkites should have some sort of mask. However, do not feel bound to some form of cultural norm. Instead, you should create your character so that every detail about him describes his inner nature, thus adding to the depth and enjoyment of the story.

Storymap Preparation--Institutions or Groups as Characters

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Some “characters” in a storymap are not individuals but are actually representative of a group or institution. For example, a storymap might include the Citadel as a “character”. This can be useful for a few reasons.

First, it allows a character to use the I/C transfer rules to maximum effect, either by receiving I/C from the group or by transferring to the group. For example, imagine a prophet from the wilderness entering the Citadel and preaching a message of repentance. This could be gamed out mechanically as a transfer of Inspiration from the prophet to the Citadel.

Secondly, having a group as a character provides the necessary Attributes and Traits in case another character seeks to perform some action opposed by the group. A variation of this method can be used to determine the effects of ongoing actions between two groups. For example, a storymap that includes a war between two villages could occasionally use a Force vs. Force roll to determine the ongoing status of the war. This is a quick and easy way of providing a dynamic background without overwhelming the primary status of the players as the authors of the story.

Third, the group’s Attributes and Traits can be used for any individual who is a part of that group who is not otherwise included in the storymap. For instance, a nameless Citadel soldier might use the Citadel’s Attributes and Traits if he were ever part of a conflict resolution. Any I/C spent by one of these minor characters is drawn from the group’s pool of I/C.

Finally, including groups as characters allows for the formation of relationships with these groups or their interrelationships. For example, a storymap might include the Ark and the Citadel as well as an “At war” relationship so that another character could have a relationship to the “At war” relationship. (See Relationships for more information.)

At the same time, I would advise using group characters sparingly. Often, these groups exist only as background setting and do not need to be fleshed out in order for the storymap to be complete. Also, relationships with groups tend to be less intense than relationships with individuals, thus providing less driving force to the characters and providing less interest to the players.

Storymap Preparation--Create the Priming Event

1990-01-01T00:57:00.000-06:00

Every story starts somewhere. Something sets the tangled web of relationships and emotions spinning into motion. This is called the priming event. This event is what starts the story. For example, if the central conflict is the defense of a village against dragon cultists, the priming event could be the first attack on the village or even the spotting of the column of enemy troops. Whatever it is, the priming event must occur just prior to the events of play. It establishes the immediate situation, provides the context for initial character actions, and places strain on the relationships sketched out on the storymap.

The priming event has a simple purpose in a storymap. Like a detonator attached to a stick of dynamite, the priming event triggers the explosive conflicts bound up within the storymap. The one feature that all good priming events share is that they must require the characters to take some sort of action. Notice that the priming event should not require a specific sort of action. Rather, it should require the characters to make their first decisions. For example, the priming event in “Blood of Haven” is the arrival of the tortured farmer with the news of monsters in the mountains. Uriel’s hand has been tipped. How will he react? Victor and Jochebed have decisions to make as well. Do they realize that this is Uriel’s handiwork? If so, do they attempt to reconcile with Uriel? Do they rally the villagers? Do they try to murder Uriel before he can attack? And who says that they need to pursue the same action? If one seeks to reconcile with Uriel and the other wishes to see him dead, conflict arises between them, which is intensified by their common bond of having lied to the village by banishing Uriel instead of killing him. All sorts of possibilities unfold from a simple event.

Preparing the Clock

1990-01-01T00:56:00.000-06:00

The game system used by Legends of Alyria is unusual among roleplaying games in that it eschews numbers in favor of clock faces. The different results are based on the Liturgy of the Hours which is observed by the Keepers of Alyria. Every three hours, a special service (or Office) is held to worship Pheric throughout the day. The Chosen claim that this liturgical structure was actually stolen from them, but who believes heretics?

Here are the Offices of the Liturgy of the Hours:
Matins 12 a.m. (midnight)
Lauds 3 a.m.
Prime 6 a.m.
Terce 9 a.m.
Sext 12 p.m. (noon)
None 3 p.m.
Vespers 6 p.m.
Compline 9 p.m.
Devil’s Hour

For the purposes of this game, the Offices are ranked as follows:

Sext
Terce/None
Prime/Vespers
Lauds/Compline
Matins
Devil’s Hour

The higher Offices on this list beat the lower Offices. For example, if a player is rolling against an Attribute that is rated at Prime, a roll of Prime/Vespers, Terce/None, or Sext will count as a success.

Notice that this makes certain offices, such as Lauds and Compline, equivalent from a game perspective. However, when creating a character, you should still pick which office to use. Offices from the morning (Lauds, Prime, and Terce) can be used to indicate an Attribute that is tending to increase in strength or a Trait that will probably be moved in the direction of Good. In the same way, the evening Offices (None, Vespers, and Compline) can be used to indicate an Attribute that is tending to decrease in strength or a Trait that will probably be moved in the direction of Evil.

In order to play Legends of Alyria, you will need to create a couple of Clock Dice, which are ten-sided dice with Clock faces instead of numbers. I recommend having at least two prepared. Here are the number of each Office that you will need on each die:

Prime/Vespers 3 sides
Terce/None 2 sides
Lauds/Compline 2 sides
Sext 1 side
Matins 1 side
Devil’s Hour 1 side

Alternately, if you do not feel like vandalizing your dice, you can roll a regular ten-sided die and use the following chart:

Sext 10
Terce/None 8-9
Prime/Vespers 5-7
Lauds/Compline 3-4
Matins 2
Devil’s Hour 1

Conflict Resolution

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Legends of Alyria assumes the use of this conflict resolution system for all conflicts, both combat and non-combat. This means that scenes frequently resolved through pure roleplaying in other systems will require a roll in Legends of Alyria. This could include any of the following situations:

A holy warrior being tempted by a prostitute
Two characters debating in a council of war
A thief trying to talk his way past a guard

In cases like these, if the die roll dictates a certain result, the players of the characters must conform their roleplaying to the result given, even if it goes against the player’s better judgment. For example, if the thief wins the conflict, then the guard must let him pass, even if the guard’s player does not want to do so.
This is important to remember, because the conflicts in Legends of Alyria are frequently non-physical in nature, and it is important that the system be applied to all conflicts equally.

Here are the steps of conflict resolution:

1. Establish tension level of conflict
2. Determine character goal and Attribute
3. Use I/C if desired
4. Activate any appropriate Traits
5. Roll dice and evaluate results
6. Award I/C

Conflict Resolution--Establish Tension Level

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The first step in resolving a conflict is for the group to establish the tension level of the conflict. The tension level determines the number of successful die rolls (or “exchanges”) that a character needs in order to win the conflict. The three tension levels are as follows:

Low: 1 die roll
Medium: 2 die rolls
High: 3 die rolls

Normally the Narrator is responsible for establishing the tension level, but this may vary in different groups. See the Narration section for more details.

Example: Sirus is facing off against a dragon on the deck of a mist ship. The conflict being resolved is their combat. The Narrator decides that this is a climactic moment in the story and establishes the tension level as being “high”. Sirius will need to win three exchanges in order to triumph over the dragon

Example: Selena, resplendent in her shimmering evening gown, is attending a ball in the home of one of the Citadel’s High Lords. She is hoping to make use of her influence to affect the current policies towards the Restored in the Citadel. However, her political rival Tenebros is at the ball as well. The two begin to engage in verbal sparring over political matters. The Narrator decides that this is not a particularly significant part of the story and sets the tension level as “low”. Selena will only need to win one exchange to succeed against Tenebros.

Conflict Resolution--Determine Character Goal and Attribute

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The next step in resolving a conflict is determining the goal for each opposing side and which Attribute each is using. Usually more than one Attribute could theoretically apply. In this case, the player can choose the Attribute he wishes to use. However, the narration of the resulting action must take the choice of Attribute into account. The chosen Attribute sets the target face for the opponent. So, if a character chooses an Attribute with a Prime/Vespers rating, the opponent will have to roll a Prime/Vespers or better on his Clock Die.

A player cannot alter his goal and Attribute during the conflict.

Example: Both Sirus and the dragon have similar goals: kill and incapacitate the other. Sirus could use his Force Attribute to accomplish this (e.g. calling on the power of his Keeper-tech implants), his Insight (e.g. determining a weakness in the dragon’s defenses and using it) or even his Determination (e.g. defending himself while waiting for the already wounded dragon to exhaust itself). Sirus chooses to use his Force Attribute, which is rated at Terce/None. The dragon also opts to use Force, which is rated at Full. If nothing else changes, Sirus will need to roll a Sext to win, while the dragon can succeed with a Terce/None or Sext.

Example: Selena wants to disengage gracefully from the heated political discussion. She could use Force (e.g. display a weapon or make a thinly-veiled threat to get Tenebros to back off), Insight (e.g. dazzle Tenebros with a show of wit and sweep away, leaving him spluttering) or Determination (e.g. leaving with dignity, pushing past Tenebros and ignoring any further comments from him). Selena chooses Insight to dazzle her opponent’s wit. With an Insight of Sext, Tenebros will have to get lucky and roll a Sext to win. In contrast, Tenebros chooses Force to intimidate Selena, but his Prime/Vespers rating should be easy to beat.

Conflict Resolution--Use of Inspiration or Corruption

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At this point, either opponent may spend a point of I/C to resolve the conflict without rolling the dice. If Inspiration is spent, the conflict is resolved in some way that favors Good. Corruption, however, resolves the conflict for Evil. Again, note that this is not character subjective. The resolution is not good or bad for the character spending the I/C. Rather, it is based on the overall situation. Inspiration swings the overall situation toward Good, while Corruption swings the overall situation towards Evil. The opposing player can cancel this effect by paying a point of I/C himself. Inspiration will cancel Corruption and Corruption will cancel Inspiration.

This opportunity only exists before Traits are activated for the first exchange. After that point, this option is no longer available.

Example: Selena’s player is ready to roll dice, but Tenebros’s player has other plans. Grinning broadly, he spends a point of Corruption. Selena does not have any Inspiration to spend so the conflict is resolved in the favor of Evil. Tenebros begins to rail against her, calling into question her intelligence and parentage. She tries to deflect his cruel, cutting words but quails under his verbal assault. Finally, she breaks into tears and rushes from the room, followed by his mocking laughter.

Conflict Resolution--Activate Traits

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The use of certain Traits (called activating the Trait) can affect the outcome of a conflict by changing the target face for one of the opponents. Each player may activate one Trait per exchange, which can be from either character. However, the Trait being activated must be able to apply to the conflict at hand. When a player activates a Trait, he may change one of the target faces to that of the Trait being activated for the duration of one exchange.

If both players try to change an Attribute by activating Traits, their efforts cancel each other and the value of the original Attribute is used.

Ordinarily, a Trait may only be activated once per conflict, even if the opposing character activated it. However, a Trait may be activated additional times in a conflict by spending I/C. A character must spend Inspiration to reactivate a good Trait that he has or an evil Trait that his opponent has. Conversely, a character must spend Corruption to reactivate an evil Trait that he has or a good Trait that his opponent has. The cost in I/C is equal to the number of times that the Trait has already been activated in this conflict.

Example: Sirus has the Driven Trait at Lauds/Compline, representing his willingness to do anything to achieve his goal. Sirus’s player determines that this dragon is an obstacle to his goals, so the Trait fits. Sirus’s player decides to give the face to the dragon, so its Force is temporarily reduced to Lauds/Compline. If the conflict continues to another exchange, the dragon’s Force will return to its normal value. Since this is the first time that he has activated this Trait in this conflict, it is free to him. If he wishes to activate this Trait again at a later point in the conflict, he will be required to pay 1 point of Corruption, since the Trait is evil.

Conflict Resolution--Roll Dice and Evaluate Results

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Assuming that no one spends I/C to resolve the conflict, both sides now roll a Clock Die. The die roll is a success if it is greater than or equal to the target moon phase. If one side succeeds but the other side does not, then the successful side wins the die roll. If both sides succeed, then the side with the higher temporary Attribute wins the die roll. Failure by both sides leads to an inconclusive result.

Sext—Rolling Sext is very good. Anyone who rolls Sext automatically wins the exchange if his opponent did not roll Sext. If both sides roll Sext, then resolve by comparing temporary Attribute values as normal.

Devil’s Hour—Rolling Devil’s Hour is very bad. This is automatic failure and the character making the roll should be assumed to have seriously botched some aspect of his action. If both sides roll the Devil's Hour, both sides fail miserably.

If a character succeeds by rolling Sext or by having his opponent roll Devil’s Hour, then the die roll counts as two successful exchanges towards the number of exchanges needed to win, as set by the tension level. If a character succeeds by rolling Sext and his opponent rolls the Devil’s Hour, then the die roll counts as three successful exchanges (i.e. he wins immediately).

The result of the exchange should then be narrated. (For more details on this process, see “The Art of Narration” below.) Final success may not be narrated until the character has won enough exchanges to meet the tension level. If final success has not been achieved, then return to Trait Activation for the next exchange.

Conflict Resolution--Award I/C

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Once the conflict is completed, then the characters are awarded I/C by the same player that set the tension level (normally the Narrator). The amount of I/C to be awarded is determined by the tension level.

Low: 1
Medium: 2
High: 3

The I/C listed on the chart is divided between the two characters in any way that the awarding player desires. Please note that the amount of I/C on the chart is the total amount to be awarded, not the total amount per character. So, for example, at the end of a High Tension conflict, the awarding player will hand out 3 points of I/C.

When dividing this I/C award, the awarding player should consider what sorts of choices were made by the characters and which Traits were activated. A character pursuing an evil course or employing an evil Trait (even if it was activated against his will) should be given Corruption, whereas a character using a good Trait or pursuing a good course should be awarded Inspiration.

It is best to think of the I/C award as a method for the awarding player to comment on the choices of the characters and the outcome of their conflict. Again, this calls for the player to pass judgment on the characters. The characters’ opinions are unimportant in making this determination. The awarding player judges the characters’ actions and makes awards as he sees fit.

Spending Inspiration and Corruption

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Inspiration and Corruption can be spent for a number of different effects.

As noted earlier, I/C can be spent to resolve a conflict without using a die roll.
One point of Inspiration can be spent to remove one point of Corruption, and vice versa.

Inspiration can be spent to weaken evil Traits or strengthen good Traits. Corruption can be spent to weaken good Traits or strengthen evil Traits. The cost for this is 1 point plus 1 added point for each shift between the new Trait value and the character’s Virtue. So, for example, a character with a Terce/None Virtue would have to spend 2 points to raise a Terce/None Trait to a Sext Trait (the base of 1 point plus the one phase shift from Terce/None to Sext). A Trait can only shift one clockface at a time. Any Trait that is changed to Prime/Vespers is removed from the character sheet. It has become too weak to be relevant to the character anymore.

If an I/C meter fills up, all the points must be spent immediately and the character’s Virtue shifts one phase. Inspiration shifts Virtue towards Sext and Corruption shifts Virtue towards Matins.

I/C can be transferred between willing characters. This can be used to simulate the effects of bad counsel, encouraging words, a blessing or curse, or other such actions. Simply roleplay the actions that are causing the transfer and then exchange points as desired.

Narrating the Game

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Most roleplaying games assume that one player needs to be given additional authority to run the game. Commonly known as the Game Master but also known by a host of other names, this player is the ultimate arbiter of the rules and is responsible for the planning and execution of game sessions. However, it should be obvious by now that such a position does not make sense in Legends of Alyria, where such authority is explicitly given to the players. So why does the game call for a Narrator position?

In discussing roleplaying games, Ron Edwards has used the analogy of a gaming group as a band. In his analogy, the Narrator is the bass player. He is not the center of attention. Rather, he is the one who lays down the basic rhythm that everyone else builds upon. So, in Legends of Alyria, the Narrator establishes the mood and pace of the game. He helps mold player desires into a useable storymap. He is the one responsible for scene framing. He plays the unassigned characters from the storymap, as well as any incidental characters. He does make rules decisions. Through it all, he is laying the foundation for the game that the other players build upon.

Having a single voice speaking to these issues can be helpful in a gaming group. An impartial arbiter can go a long way towards avoiding needless strife in the group. However, some groups may not feel the need for a permanent Narrator. After all, most games do not have such a player. Rather, the players gather as equals, all agreeing to submit to the rules of the game. Perhaps one individual’s knowledge of the rules is superior, and the others defer to his knowledge, but this does not make that person in charge of the group. The rules are in charge.
There is no reason why Legends of Alyria cannot be run in this fashion. As long as the group is capable of laying its foundations together, they may not need a single “bass player”. However, there is still the need for the Narrator’s functions to be performed. I see two possible ways of structuring such a group. The first is to function by group consensus. The second is by using a “rotating Narrator” approach, where a player without an active character in the scene becomes the Narrator for that scene. Either way could produce rewarding results.

Regardless of how the Narrator issue is handled in your group, someone must perform his functions. The rest of this chapter is dedicated to explaining what a Narrator is supposed to do. Just remember, as you are reading this, that any or all of these functions can be performed by any of the players, and that discarding the Narrator position altogether can be a good way for you to play Legends of Alyria.

Narrating the Game--Reading the Dice

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When all is said and done, the only concrete information that the Legends of Alyria system provides is this: which character succeeded? However, this still leaves an important question: what actually happened? The system provides no guidance to the Narrator…or does it? By taking into account several different factors, the Narrator can find guidance from the system to structure his narration.

The most obvious factors to consider when interpreting a dice roll are the stated intents of the characters in conflict and their success or failure. However, there are several other factors that have a certain measure of influence. In order of importance, they are as follows:

Traits activated
Attributes chosen
adjusted Attribute clock face
current Attribute clock face
actual dice rolls

So, with all this in mind, let’s work through several possible dice rolls for a sample exchange. Try figuring out your own interpretation before reading mine.

Situation: Sirius and the dragon are squared off. Both are using Force and, additionally, Sirius has activated his Driven Trait. Sirus has a Terce/None rating and the dragon is functioning with a Lauds/Compline rating from Sirus’s Driven Trait, despite having a Force of Sext.

Sirius: Prime/Vespers (success) Dragon: Prime/Vespers (failed)

Due to the dice rolls, I see that Sirius will win the conflict. However, I also should take into account the dragon’s actual Force of Sext and the fact that the dice rolls are exactly the same. Therefore I might decide that Sirius inflicts deadly injury to the dragon but does not actually drive it off. Additionally, I need to factor in Sirius’s use of his Driven Trait. So I might end up narrating Sirius’s determined assault on the dragon, rolling under its deadly flame to tear at its exoskeleton with his power gauntlets.

Sirius: Matins (failed) Dragon: Terce/None (success)

The dragon obviously wins this conflict. Additionally the wide margin between the dice results speaks for a hefty draconian victory. So I narrate Sirius’ getting caught in the dragon’s fiery breath, which knocks him backwards and burns him severely. Still, he drags himself back to his feet and spits at the dragon (as a result of using his Driven Trait).

Sirius: Prime/Vespers (success) Dragon: Devil’s Hour (critical failure)

Sirius wins and wins big. Indeed, this result would count as two successful exchanges. As the dragon opens its mouth to breathe fire, Sirius grabs a fallen spar and hurls it like a spear into the gaping maw. As the dragon reels backwards, Sirius levels a blast at it from his power gauntlets, blasting it backward off the mist ship.

Sirius: Devil’s Hour (critical failure) Dragon: Sext (critical success)

This is the worst possible result for Sirius. The dragon is credited with three successful exchanges and has its way with him. Since this is a combat situation, Sirius should probably die. At the very least he should be seriously maimed. Sirius’ player decides that a horrible death would be a good way to end Sirius’ career, so I narrate the dragon’s renewed assault on Sirius. Then, the dragon’s tail whips around, impaling Sirius. As Sirius struggles to slide off the dragon’s tail, a beam of sickly green light blazes from the dragon’s eyes. Sirius disintegrates. A single metal gauntlet clatters to the deck. The dragon roars in triumph.

Narrating the Game--Narration

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The last section explained how to interpret the dice. This section answers the question, “Who gets to interpret the dice?” As always, there are several different possibilities, and the gaming group should determine which option they are using before the game starts.

The Narrator narrates This is probably the simplest answer. Whoever is acting as the Narrator gets to interpret the dice and determine the outcome of the conflict, although he must keep in mind the stated goals of the characters in conflict. The primary advantage of this method is that it allows for a certain amount of consistency and neutrality in interpretation. Also this method allows the Narrator to maintain a measure of control over game events in order to emphasize certain themes or moods. The primary disadvantage of this method is that it can limit the other players’ input into conflict resolution.

The Narrator assigns If this option is chosen, then the Narrator is responsible for deciding who narrates the outcome of the conflict. This should not be an arbitrary selection. Rather, the Narrator should choose someone based on the social needs of the players. For instance, this can be a good tool to provide spotlight time to a player who has not had much opportunity to contribute to the game or who is less assertive than some of the other players.

The winner narrates If this option is used, whoever won the conflict gets to narrate the outcome. This method ensures that the winner gets what he is wanting, although it can also have the possibility of overriding the loser’s desires too much.

The loser narrates This is an unusual option. The loser must interpret the dice and narrate, taking into account the winner’s stated goals. The primary advantage of this method is that it keeps both the players involved in the narration of the conflict resolution. The primary disadvantage is that many players may not want to narrate their characters’ failures.

The higher roller narrates Let the dice decide! In this method, whoever rolled the highest clock face, regardless of victory, gets to narrate. The primary benefit of this method is that neither party is automatically excluded from being able to narrate the results of the conflict. The primary disadvantage is that the narrator will still usually be the winner.

Narrating the Game--Character Death

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Character death is a special case in narration. With few exceptions, when a character dies, he leaves the stage, never to return. Such a momentous occasion should not occur randomly. Moreover, once the character has exited the story, the player who was controlling him is probably without a further role in the story. At best, he must take over another character or introduce a new one. Because of these reasons, the gaming group should determine who is allowed to narrate a character’s death.

One answer is constant. The player controlling the character may always choose to end the character’s life. This does not need to be the result of a die roll at all. It could even be the result of a successful die roll. Just think of Darth Vader hurling the Emperor into the chasm at the cost of his own life. For that matter, think of Gollum seizing the Ring from Frodo on the edge of the Cracks of Doom.

However, the gaming group must determine if anyone besides the character’s player is allowed to call for a character’s death.

Narrator determination When using this option, only the Narrator may determine that a character has died as the result of a conflict. The primary advantage of this method is that the determination is made by a neutral party.

Winner determination When using this option, whoever wins the conflict may determine that the losing party has died, if the conflict would allow for such an outcome. This option gives players a lot of power over characters that do not belong to them, so this option should be chosen with care.

When Devil’s Hour is rolled This option is a restricted version of the “Winner Determination” method. When using this method, the winner can narrate the losing character’s death only if the losing player rolled Devil’s Hour. A variation on this method is to allow the winner to narrate the losing character’s death if the losing player rolled a Devil’s Hour and the winning player rolled a Sext.

Player Veto
In addition to determine who is allowed to narrate a character’s death, the group should also determine if they will allow “player veto” on a character’s death. Simply put, using the option allows a player to negate a narration of his character’s death. This veto can only be overridden by unanimous agreement by the rest of the group. Allowing this veto can be a helpful safety net for uncertain players, although it is probably not necessary with the restrictive “Devil’s Hour” method outlined above. On the other hand, having your entire gaming group tell you that your character should die might be an unpleasant experience. At least the rules are impersonal.

Playing after death
So your character died? Now what do you do? Don’t fret. There are lots of options for the characterless player to consider.

The most obvious answer is that he could take over play of an extra main character. This will get him back in the game the quickest. Of course, since the player may interpret the existing character in a different manner than the current player, this must be done with care to avoid major character changes.

Another option is for the player to create a new character to introduce into the story. The easiest way to do this is to make an incidental character into a main character, although introducing a brand-new character can work well also. Since character creation is so quick in Legends of Alyria, this should get him back into the game pretty quickly as well. Of course, it may be challenging to add a new character into an existing storymap, particularly if the climax of the story is approaching.

The player could also take over the roles of all the incidental characters. Having a player devoted to the incidental characters can be very freeing for a Narrator, leaving him to focus on coordinating gameplay. Of course, other Narrators like being able to roleplay the incidental characters and would not like to give this up.

Finally, the player can still play his dead character. Who says that the grave has to be the end of the story? The character could be Restored, healed by a Blessed or a Misbegotten with a life-giving power, or perhaps raised by a Chosen or even a dragon cultist. The character could struggle in the lands of the dead, seeking to return to the living world for just a few hours to complete his tasks. Or perhaps the character is now a ghost, haunting the other characters. Numerous possibilities exist, all of which allow for memorable play and the development of an intriguing story.

Narrating the Game--Gaining Inspiration and Corruption

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Characters change over the course of the story through earning and spending Inspiration and Corruption. Characters are often awarded I/C at the end of a conflict, as described in the Conflict rules outlined in Chapter Four. However, this is not the only way that a character can earn I/C. Chapter Three states: “As the character is affected by evil or performs evil acts, his Corruption increases. In the same way, a character’s Inspiration increases when he does good or is affected by good.” But what does this mean?

First, a character should gain I/C when his actions reflect a moral decision. If the character goes back into a burning building to rescue someone, he should gain a point of Inspiration. Likewise, if he were to turn a deaf ear to someone in true need, he should gain a point of Corruption. Obviously, these decisions should only count if they are important to the story. A character shouldn’t be allowed to go around doing random good deeds in order to maximize his Inspiration gain.

This is why a character should probably gain I/C when one of his Traits is activated during a conflict. Regardless of the final effect of the activation, the character is drawing on his moral characteristics, which should be reflected in I/C gain. In general, the activation of a Lauds/Compline or Terce/None Trait should occasionally give an I/C gain while a Matins or Sext Trait should usually give an I/C gain. This is because Matins and Sext Traits are more intense and therefore have more of an impact on the character. This I/C gain is triggered even if the opposing player activated the Trait.

Second, a character should gain I/C when he is inspired by someone’s actions or is corrupted by another’s promptings. For example, an evil counselor could provide his king with many Corruption points. (Just think of Theoden and Wormtongue from Lord of the Rings for an example of this.) By the same measure, another’s help and comfort in troubled times could provide Inspiration. (Sam provided this service for Frodo many times in Lord of the Rings.) Certain events could trigger this gain as well. Finding a murder victim or the aftermath of dragon cultist sacrifice could cause a Corruption gain, while discovering a peaceful oasis while crossing the desert could give an Inspiration gain.

Third, the supernatural intervention of Good or Evil should provide I/C. Being in the presence of a dragon could trigger a gain in Corruption. Conversely, being visited by a unicorn could trigger a gain in Inspiration. Also, places especially touched by Good or Evil could be sources of I/C. Being in the Garden could very easily provide Inspiration, while a trip to the hellish depths of the Sea of Mist could give Corruption.

All non-conflict I/C gains are determined by player choice. But which player? Again, the gaming group has some decisions to make.

Narrator determination When using this option, only the Narrator may determine that a character has gained Inspiration or Corruption. This has the advantage of being even-handed, although its weakness is that the Narrator may not fully comprehend the ramifications of a character’s choices in the way that his player might.

Narrator or Controlling Player determination When using this option, either the Narrator or the player controlling the character may determine that a character has gained Inspiration or Corruption. This option allows the controlling player to have more input into the fate of his character but does open the possibility of abuse by a player intent on controlling the story by spending I/C to avoid dice rolls.

Regardless of which option is chosen, any player should feel free to suggest that certain actions or situations deserve a gain of Inspiration or Corruption.

Narrating the Game--Scene Manipulation

1990-01-01T00:42:00.000-06:00

“Start at the beginning, and when you get to the end, stop.”—The Mad Hatter, Alice in Wonderland

One of the Narrator’s most important functions, once game play has actually begun, is scene manipulation. This includes scene framing and cutting.

Scene framing is the more fundamental skill of the two. When the Narrator is framing a scene, he is opening it by determining the participants in the scene and setting the stage for the scene. He must then determine when the meaningful part of the scene has finished, so that game play can move to the next scene.

This is where the Mad Hatter’s quote is so useful. Within it is everything that you need to know about scene framing.

Start at the beginning. Skip straight to the important material. If Thomas is going to confront his nemesis in the marketplace, there may be no need to play out the search for his nemesis from stall to stall if this is of no interest to the gaming group. Does playing through the stall-to-stall search develop Thomas’s character at all? Does it establish the mood of the scene? Does it do anything useful? If not, then start the scene at the point where Thomas discovers his nemesis by one of the fruit stands. Start at the beginning of the action, not before the action begins.

When you get to the end, stop. Every scene has a purpose. Once that purpose is fulfilled, the scene needs to end. Let’s say that Thomas confronts his nemesis, who taunts him briefly and then leaves, turning his back on Thomas. Thomas yells impotent insults at his back, but it is obvious to everyone which person got the better of the exchange. Is there a need to drag on the scene? Is Thomas going to do anything further? If not, then it is time to close the scene and move on to the next part of the story.

Sometimes a Narrator needs to run two scenes at the same time. Usually this happens because the two scenes are occurring at the same time, and the Narrator wants to build dramatic suspense. In order to do this, the Narrator must cut from scene to scene. First, he frames both scenes as described earlier in this section. Then the players in the first scene begin to play through the scene. At an appropriate moment, the Narrator pauses the action in the first scene and switches to the second scene, where the action advances until the Narrator switches back to the first scene. If the Narrator makes his cuts at high tension points in the scenes, he can magnify the tension of both scenes greatly.

Here is how cutting works. Once again, Thomas is seeking out his nemesis, who is named Random. What Thomas doesn’t know is that Random has acquired an ancient Progenitor weapon and will kill Thomas as soon as he confronts Random. However, his lover Mystaria, who is one of the Blessed, had a vision of Thomas’s death at Random’s hands. So, in one scene Thomas is seeking out Random in the marketplace again, and in the second scene Mystaria is hurrying through the streets of the Citadel, risking exposure to be able to warn her love. The Narrator opens Thomas’s scene, and they briefly play through his search through the market. Then Thomas spots Random, again at the fruit seller’s stall. Then the Narrator makes his first cut, switching to Mystaria. She is hurrying down from the Web, trying to move as quickly as possible without drawing too much attention to herself. But in her carelessness, she bowls over a Noble-born soldier who was not watching where he was going. He pulls himself to his feet, eyes blazing. Now the tension is high. Mystaria is at risk, both of being delayed and of being harmed or even killed by the soldier. Time to cut. The Narrator switches back to Thomas, who has called out to Random, demanding satisfaction in a duel. Random agrees, but Thomas demands immediate satisfaction and requires that the duel be fought immediately. Random agrees. The street begins to clear. Cut back to Mystaria. She is groveling before the Noble-born, apologizing profusely. The Noble-born kicks her once, knocking her down. Satisfied, he turns to leave, but the hood of her cloak has fallen back, revealing her eye-studded face. He turns back, unsure if he saw correctly. Mystaria cowers further. The tension is rising even more. Time to cut.

And so it goes. Back and forth, back and forth, escalating as it goes. It is a simple technique to master, but its effects are profound.

Narrating the Game--Playing the Incidental Characters

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Ideally, all the major characters in a storymap are defined at the beginning of a legend. However, there are often many minor characters that are introduced along the way. Servants, merchants, passing soldiers, beggars, other party guests. These characters are called incidental characters. They rarely play a major role in the story and tend to serve as part of the backdrop of a scene. Normally, the Narrator plays these characters. However, there is no reason why players who are not participating in a scene could not take temporary control of an incidental character. Not only does this permit a player who would otherwise be idle to participate in a scene, but it also removes a burden from the Narrator and has the potential to create a memorable minor character. This technique will not be right for all groups, but it is worth experimenting to see if it will work for your group.

Blood of Haven: A Sample Storymap

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Somewhere in the wilderness of Alyria lies the small village of Haven. It is a nowhere town in a nowhere land, content to ignore the outside world and to be left alone. The nearest town is two weeks away, which is where the farmers of Haven go to trade for items and equipment that they need. It is a hard existence, but the people of Haven are happy. After all, nothing ever happens here. Nothing at all.

But this idyllic village holds a dark secret. Twenty years ago, this village condemned a child to die. He was forced from the village and left to wander the wilderness alone. His only crime: being different. Having a strange power that the villagers both desired and feared. And so he was cast out. He should have died. Instead, sustained by his innate power, he has grown to manhood in the wilderness. Gathering an army of twisted creatures around him, he is returning to Haven for revenge.

Revenge against the village who hated him.

Revenge against the father who failed to save him.

Revenge against the woman who claimed to love him.

Blood of Haven: Background

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About twenty years ago, a little boy named Uriel was born to Victor and his wife in the small village of Haven. Uriel grew up normally and became especially close to Jochebed, the wife of the headman of the village. After Victor’s wife died, Jochebed became Uriel’s mother in everything but name. She loved Uriel dearly, and he loved her.

However, when he turned five years old, Uriel began to manifest signs of the Blessing, a strange mutation that gives great power. The villagers thought that he was dangerous and demanded that he be killed.

Jochebed did not want Uriel to be killed, but she knew that the villagers would not allow him to stay. So she browbeat Victor into exiling him into the wilderness instead. Victor was too afraid of his fellow villagers to stand up for his son but he did not want to kill him either. He agreed to the plan. One night, Victor and Jochebed smuggled Uriel out of the village and left him in the wilderness. The villagers thought that Uriel was killed. Victor was happy that Uriel would no longer trouble his position in the village and went on with his life. But Jochebed never forgot Uriel and she prayed every night that Uriel would be kept safe. Yet she resigned herself never to see him again.

Years passed. Uriel did not die. Instead, he came into his own in the wilderness among the animals, sustained by his iron will and burning desire for revenge. He learned to control his power, avoiding most of the dangerous twisting, mutating side effects of the Blessing.
Now the time is right. Uriel has gathered an army of animals that he has molded and shaped with his power. He calls these beasts his “houns”. Now he will avenge himself on the village of Haven.

All is not well in Haven, either. After her husband died, Jochebed became the leader of the village. However, she does not hold the respect of the people. Rather, Victor is slowly earning their respect. Many of the villagers look to Victor for guidance and protection instead of Jochebed. There has been no talk of ousting Jochebed yet. Not quite yet.

Victor is enjoying his growing prestige in the village. He likes having people look to him for leadership. But his rise in status has only increased his fear that his secret will be discovered. If the villagers were to discover that he had not killed his son…. The possibility is too horrifying to contemplate. He might be driven to desperate means to keep this secret safe.

The youth are also restless. They sense that "Grandma" Jochebed is losing the reins of power and are not pleased. The quiet, happy village is about ready to explode from the underlying power struggle that is slowly unfolding.

Blood of Haven: Dramatis Personae

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These are the various characters and groups that are part of the Blood of Haven scenario.

Uriel
Uriel is a dark, brooding young man in his early twenties. Although he has managed to avoid serious disfigurement from the Blessing, he is still somewhat deformed by its use. Therefore he wears a long black cloak to conceal the worst of his deformities.

Uriel’s goal is simple. He seeks revenge on those who cast him out. He has suffered long in the wilderness, and he wishes to inflict his rage on those who harmed him. Especially Victor and Jochebed. They said that they loved him. If they truly loved him, why did they abandon him to die? Thoughts of vengeance burn within his soul.

And yet… Uriel has been alone for so long, and he longs for someone who would care for him. If someone were to reach out to him, to love him, it could be his salvation.

But who could love the monster that he has become?

Uriel
Virtue: Compline

Attributes
Determination:Terce
Insight: Compline
Force: Compline

Traits
Hatred of Villagers: Compline
Love of Jocabed:Terce
Contempt of Victor: Matins

I/C: Uriel begins the game with two points of Corruption

Uriel is Blessed and is subject to the rules for the Blessed.

Jochebed
Jochebed is an elderly woman who has lived her entire life in Haven. She has seen much hardship in her life that has been etched on her careworn face. Yet laugh lines also crease her face, and she often has a smile for her neighbors. She had been married to the headman of Haven, and when he died, she took over his role. She has ruled Haven for many years. Some would call her wise.

But times are changing. Jochebed’s health is failing, and, in the minds of some, Haven is not prospering as it once was. These folks would like to see a change in leadership to someone stronger, more determined. Someone like Victor. Already Jochebed’s support among the farmers of Haven is waning.

Yet the youth of Haven still rally around her, calling her “Grandma Jochebed”. She mothers them all, desperately trying to assuage the guilt that she bears in her heart for abandoning Uriel in the wilderness. For every child that she touches, she is trying to atone for the one that she gave away.

Jochebed
Virtue:Terce

Attributes
Determination: Prime
Insight: Prime
Force: Compline

Traits
Love of Uriel: Terce
Devotion to Villagers: Terce
Guilty: Compline

I/C: Jochebed begins the game with two points of Inspiration.

Victor
Victor is also in his sixties, yet he is still in the prime of his health. He makes for a striking figure as he strides through town. Although Jochebed rules in Haven, the villagers are looking more and more to Victor for leadership and guidance. After all, he is everything that they are wanting in a leader. For his part, Victor loves the village of Haven and truly believes that he would be able to lead Haven into a new prosperity. But his growing popularity only deepens his fear that his dark secret will be discovered. Most of the village has decided to overlook his fathering of a Blessed freak, and everyone thinks that he killed Uriel once he discovered the truth. If the village learned that he had spared Uriel, then he would be an outcast. Only Jochebed knows the truth. But what will he do, now that Uriel has returned?

Victor possesses of an ancient fletchette gun that fires a burst of tiny darts. Most of the rest of the villagers possess only knives and pitchforks, with perhaps the occasional sword. Of course, this weapon only increases Victor’s status in the eyes of the villagers. Like all forms of technology in Legends of Alyria, there are no special rules for this gun. Rather, treat it like a special effect for narration. If Victor wins an exchange in a combat-related conflict, he can narrate his use of the gun.

Victor
Virtue: Vespers

Attributes
Determination: Lauds
Insight: Compline
Force: Terce

Traits
Cowardice: Matins
Devotion to Villagers: Terce

I/C: Victor begins the game with two points of Corruption and one point of Inspiration.

Villagers
These are the statistics for an average villager. These can be used if an extra NPC needs to be created or if one of the PCs ends up in conflict with a villager.

The villagers exist mostly at a medieval technology level. They are armed with weapons improvised from farming implements. However, the village does own a single solar powered tractor which is used to plow the fields.

Like Victor's flechette gun, there are no special rules for the villagers' weapons or for the tractor, aside from the narration possibilities.

Villagers
Virtue: Vespers

Attributes
Determination: None
Insight: Compline
Force: Compline

Traits
Devoted to Village: None

I/C: The villagers as a group have two points of Inspiration and two points of Corruption. Any points of I/C spent by a given villager are taken from this common pool.

Houns
The houns are the monsters that Uriel has created to destroy Haven. They are large, panther-like creatures that are capable of moderately intelligent thought and speech, although only Uriel can understand them.

Houns
Virtue: Compline

Attributes
Determination: Lauds
Insight: Matins
Force: Sext

Traits
Loyalty to Uriel: Terce
Sadistic: Matins

I/C: The houns as a group have three points of Corruption. Any points of Corruption spent by a given houn are taken from this common pool.

Blood of Haven: Storymap

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Blood of Haven: Priming Event

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The situation at the beginning of the scenario is grim for Haven. The village lies in the middle of a wide valley with only a couple of passes that lead over the surrounding mountain ranges. Uriel has already sealed off these passes and is considering his next move.

However, his hand is forced. A party of farmers sets out from Haven for Longville, a trading post approximately a week’s travel away. They are attacked by houns at the pass and are overwhelmed. Only one farmer escapes from the ambush to return to Haven with the news.

And so, as the story opens, the remaining farmer from the caravan staggers into Haven. He is delirious, raving about monstrous creatures in the mountains. At the same time, Uriel receives word from his patrol that the first blow has been struck.
At this point, the players must take over. How do Jochebed and Victor react? What do the villagers do? For that matter, how does Uriel react? If he had planned to attack Haven, he might be happy with this turn of events. But what if he had something else in mind? Has he already lost control of his schemes?

Designer's Notes

1990-01-01T00:31:00.000-06:00

It has been seven years since I started this project. Seven years. I can’t believe it. During that time, I have added five children to my family, moved from Pennsylvania to Illinois, and lost my mother. I have written a wargame called Junk, which failed commercially, as well as writing for Little Fears, a roleplaying game from Key 20 Publishing. Along the way, I have learned much more about roleplaying games and game design than I knew when I started. In some ways, I wish that I had known more when I had started this project. Perhaps I could have avoided making so many of the mistakes that I made. But isn’t that the nature of all things? We come to the end and think of all the ways that we could have done better. Maybe it’s just me. Oh well. It is a good way to learn contentment.

And I am happy with what I have produced.

When I look over the “Dreaming Out Loud” game journal that I kept, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I see all the places where I have failed to achieve all the secondary goals that I wanted. I see a designer who was shooting for the moon with stars in his eyes. I see a designer still struggling with theory and incorporating it imperfectly into his design.

And yet… I go back to my first goals and consider them.

First, I wanted to design a game in which both swords and robots would make sense. At first this was a result of fanboy enthusiasm and too much Final Fantasy VII, but after rereading the science fantasy of Book of the New Sun, I saw the potential depth of such an approach. That was my goal, and I think that I have achieved it.

I also wanted to design a game that returned to the roots of high fantasy, especially as embodied in Lord of the Rings. In my opinion, fantasy has become too self-referential and is beginning to stagger under the weight of the genre assumptions that are associated with it. Can it really be high fantasy if it does not have elves and dwarves? I wanted to strip away the genre conventions and return to the core concerns of high fantasy. The primal conflict between Good and Evil. True nobility. Darkness and despair. Wonder and beauty. Moral strength winning the day. I wanted a game that rose to these heights and plumbed these depths. I think that I can say that I have succeeded. Not perfectly, to be sure, but I think that I have provided the tools to you to create such stories.

Yes, to you. A roleplaying game is not a world. A roleplaying game is not a story. The contents of these pages are merely a toolkit for your gaming group to use to create your own stories. Your own legends. You see, the secret of Legends of Alyria is that all the legends are your own. I have handed you the canvas and the paints. It is up to you to paint.

In one of my early “Dreaming Out Loud” columns, I talked about letting go of my baby. “Right now I am weaving my tale of monsters and dragons, of dark cities and mist-shrouded forests, of struggling heroes, of wars for land, of wars for souls. You listen enraptured (I hope) as I spin my tale and dream my dreams. But someday there will be a book. You will buy it and take it home with you. And in that instant, the baton changes hands. I am no longer telling the story. I have taken it as far as I can, and now it is your turn to weave your stories. It is no longer my game. It is your game, and what right do I have to tell you what to do with your game?”

That time is now. This is the end. I’ve said my piece. I’ve told my tales. I hope that you have enjoyed them.

What lies ahead is up to you.

Designer's Notes--Sources of Inspiration

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For those of you who are curious, here are some of my sources of inspiration, along with some commentary.

Books
Gibson, William Virtual Light. In general, I appreciate Gibson for the hard-edged street poetry of his stories as well as his proto-awareness of true spirituality. However, I put Virtual Light on the list because Gibson’s portrayal of the community on the Golden Gate Bridge was inspirational for the Web.

McCaffrey, Ann. The Dragonriders of Pern series. I find it ironic that I only realized the influence of this series fairly late into design. Yet, as I think about it, many of the elements of Alyria are present in this series. The wandering planet and the Thread must have been stirring in my subconscious as I crafted the Outsiders.

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Lord of the Rings. This one is the classic, of course, and stands as one of the two major literary influences on Legends of Alyria. However, I include it not just because it is the classic modern fantasy novel but because it exemplifies all the values that Legends of Alyria stands for. In Frodo you see the true hero: scared, weak, alone, yet struggling forward through the pain so that others might not suffer.

Vance, Jack. The Dragon Masters. I believe that this is the first story by Jack Vance that I ever read, so it is not surprising that I only realized its influence late into design. This story features a colony of humans, cut off from Earth, and suffering under the repeated assaults of a deadly enemy that hails from a red star.

Vance, Jack. The Dying Earth. When I began design work on Legends of Alyria, I had only read one story from this book. I have since had the pleasure of reading all of Vance’s Dying Earth stories. While the Cugel series is perhaps more enjoyable, this first collection captures the technofantasy and alien nature that I have tried to infuse into Alyria.

Vance, Jack. The Last Castle. Another Vance novella that is worth reading. The depictions of a stagnant, decadent society could be useful for certain interpretations of either the Citadel or the Ark.

Vance, Jack. The Miracle Workers. Another excellent novella by Vance that I had read many years before beginning work on Legends of Alyria. I reread it while I was writing Legends of Alyria and I immediately saw the roots of the “technology as superstition” mentality in Legends of Alyria.

Wolfe, Gene The Book of the New Sun. The other major influence on Legends of Alyria. Gene Wolfe crafts such an alien world in this book that it is a wonder to read. However, the major influences on Legends of Alyria were in its blurring of the lines between magic and science to the point of irrelevance and its unashamed religious references.

Wolfe, Gene The Book of the Long Sun. This was only a minor influence on Legends of Alyria, but it is required reading in order to understand The Book of the Short Sun, which is the sequel series.

Wolfe, Gene The Book of the Short Sun. When I first read this series, it seemed like a Legends of Alyria solo game transcribed into book form. The protagonist strikes me as the perfect Legends of Alyria character, and the story revolves around the good and evil which are bound in the heart of man. A complex narrative, to be sure, but well worth the effort.

Computer Games
Final Fantasy VII. My experiences playing this game prompted the initial design work on Legends of Alyria. I enjoyed the game but kept asking myself, “If all these enemies are using guns and science, why am I using a sword and magic?” It didn’t make any sense. And so I decided to make a world where it would make sense. Also, the city of Midgard provided part of the visual inspiration for the Citadel.

Thief: The Dark Project. Another game that I have greatly enjoyed. Its contribution to Legends of Alyria is through its dark mechanistic atmosphere, which directly affected my conception of the Citadel.

Music
Enya “Tempus Vernum” from A Day Without Rain. This one was suggested by my friend and colleague, Jason Blair of Human Head Studios. It conveys to me the feeling of intensity within the setting, or perhaps an image of a storm rolling off the Sea of Mist.

Delerium Reflections I. Scarlet Jester suggested the work of Delerium to me as inspiration for Legends of Alyria. Their dark ambient sound is a great match for the somber world of Alyria, particularly the Citadel and the Ark.

Movies
Akira. I honestly do not remember how much of my ideas for the Blessed predated my watching this movie, but, if nothing else, it definitely confirmed the effectiveness of my ideas. As I watched, I thought to myself, “The Blessing looks like that.”

Blade Runner. Obviously, the opening sequence and the overall atmosphere heavily influenced the Citadel. In addition, the plight of the replicants in this movie inspired the Restored.

Roleplaying Games
Amber Diceless Roleplaying. I have never actually had the opportunity to play Amber, although I have read the books several times. Back when Legends of Alyria was going to be a diceless game, I read the Amber RPG several times, studying its system. Something that stuck with me was how its attributes were not purely physical, mental, or spiritual. Instead, they covered certain aspects of a character that included both physical and mental capability. This carried over into Legends of Alyria, where Attributes act in a similar way.

Everway. Another game that I have never played. (You will find that refrain repeated frequently in this list.) However, Everway introduced me to the idea of a system based on symbols instead of numbers. In addition, I found that its inclusion of a GM tutorial was invaluable. The inclusion of most of the tutorial material in this game is a direct result of experiencing the friendly, conversational Everway tutorial.

Nobilis. This is one of my all-time favorite roleplaying games. Even though, I discovered it long after the conceptual work on Legends of Alyria was finished, I have noticed some stylistic bleed from Nobilis to Legends of Alyria. Specifically, Nobilis taught me that a setting does not need to be exhaustive to be complete. In addition, the Hogshead edition of Nobilis strove to be not only a quality game but also a beautiful artifact. I do not know if Legends of Alyria will ever appear in a hardcopy form, but in my mind, it is a beautiful tome like Nobilis.

Sorcerer. I honestly do not remember when the idea of a storymap first entered my head, but I know that my exposure to Sorcerer and its designer, Ron Edwards, has only helped. I lurked on the Sorcerer forum on the Gaming Outpost and later the Adept Press forum on the Forge, gleaning much valuable insight into story-based play in general and relationship maps in specific. If Everway inspired the inclusion of tutorial material in this game, Sorcerer informed their content.

Theatrix. Again, I have never played Theatrix. However, Theatrix’s use of plot points that players could spend to force an outcome to a conflict or establish a fact was a major influence on the Inspiration/Corruption mechanic used by Legends of Alyria.

Unknown Armies. Although I enjoy this roleplaying game quite a bit, its only contribution to Legends of Alyria was in the form of the “Jailbreak” scenario from the One Shots supplement. This scenario is set up differently than most roleplaying scenarios, since players run all the characters in the scenario. Player versus player conflict is assured and, in fact, forms the core of the scenario. Since Legends of Alyria storymaps function in a similar way, it is good to know that someone else thinks that this is a valid way to construct a scenario. Having that “someone” be Greg Stolze is nice, too.

Universalis. This is an unusual entry. Universalis was initially inspired by a discussion on the Alyria forum on the Forge that quickly developed in its own direction. However, as I read through the rules, I was impressed by the concept of Gimmicks, which allow on-the-fly customization of the rules of the game. Legends of Alyria is not nearly this customizable. However, the options presented in the section on Game Narration were an attempt to provide a level of customization to the game, allowing each gaming group to set certain preferences.

Appendix 1: Multiverser interfacing rules

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Appendix 1: Multiverser Conversion Notes
By M. Joseph Young and Seth Ben-Ezra

(A note from Seth: many moons ago I emailed M.J. Young with a question about dice probabilities. This was the first in a long correspondence. I have been a co-moderator of a gaming email list with him. We have both written columns for the Gaming Outpost. We have interacted on the Forge. Sadly, I have never met him. However, for quite some time we have been planning these cross-over rules. M.J.'s game, Multiverser, is a game starring "versers" who leap from world to world, unable to die. As a result, they are able to explore a broad variety of worlds, bringing their experience, training, and equipment from world to world. Of course, there's no guarantee that any of it will work on your next world, but finding that out is part of the fun. Although Multiverser is administered by a corporation, Multiverser is actually owned by its creators (E.R. Jones and M.J. Young), so it lands well within the pale of independent roleplaying games. And, even if it did not, it is good to help your friends. It is our hope that this ruleset would allow for entirely new kinds of stories to be told in both Legends of Alyria and Multiverser.)

Multiverser is a game of many worlds, in which player characters travel from universe to universe. It is one of the stated objectives of the game to make possible play in other game worlds governed by other game systems, in such a manner that the integrity of the Multiverser player character is maintained, but the integrity, both feeling and system, of the other game is also preserved.

Legends of Alyria is a fantasy game providing a world and system targeted to promoting narrativist play. The game excels at creating stories built on personal and moral conflicts and issues. It breaks many conventions both of traditional role playing games and of familiar fantasy settings.

These rules are designed to enable Multiverser player characters to enter the world of Legends of Alyria, have adventures within it of the sort for which Legends of Alyria is designed, and take skills and equipment from that world into other universes beyond. It is expected that the referee will have the rules of both Legends of Alyria and Multiverser to utilize this material. These rules will give information in the order deemed most useful for bringing Multiverser characters into Legends of Alyria, facilitating play consistent with that game, and continuing into the multiverse beyond. As part of that, treatment of bias, skills, attributes, and equipment will all be addressed, as well as converting Legends of Alyria characters and creatures to Multiverser terms, and understanding which Multiverser rules do and do not apply while in Legends of Alyria.

Note: to minimize confusion in what follows, these conventions will be used. Alyria will mean the world, while Legends of Alyria refers to the Legends of Alyria game or game system. Character will mean any creature from either game system. Alyrian or indig will be used to distinguish aspects that apply only to characters or objects native to Alyria, and verser will be used for Multiverser player and non-player characters visiting this world and any objects or abilities they bring with them. Multiverser mechanics may sometimes be indicated by the letters MV in front of them.

The Darkship: A Tale of Alyria
Written by M. Joseph Young
It had been like the fulfillment of a dream. When he first found the spaceship–the darkship, as the indigs called it–it looked like an impossible task, a fixer-upper for a rocket scientist half-buried in the wilderness of a world that had fallen into primitive superstition. Its technology was unlike anything he had seen, with nanite systems analysis, antimatter power supply, and an interstellar drive whose function was still unclear to him despite having learned to repair and operate it. He had watched a generation of Alyrians grow old while he worked on making it functional, but eventually he believed it spaceworthy.

Getting a crew had been an even greater challenge. Columbus thought he had the dregs, with a crew of debtors and criminals. The gang he had raised had few humans, with several of the mutants they called Misbegotten, a couple of those Restored walking dead, and that psionic Blessed girl who made everyone nervous. They spoke in terms of crossing the Sea of Darkness or flying into Deep Heaven, unable to grasp simple ideas of space flight as just another form of travel. They did not trust or like each other, and he had spent much of his time maintaining peace (order would be too strong a word) among his misfit crew. But they had the skills he needed to make this trip, and had been willing— for their own unspoken reasons— to go with him.

He could not count the tense moments along the way. Would the ship get off the ground, escape the gravity well, hold together under those stresses? He could easily avoid the Weeping Moon, but had worried how long or wide a trail of Outsiders might drag behind it, and whether they would infect the ship.

Engaging the interstellar drive–well, he put it off for three days for no better reason than that he wanted to run the tests once more, once more, before taking that risk.

Now here they were in orbit above another planet. Systems indicated radio frequency broadcasts, although they had not yet deciphered the transmission encoding. Something intelligent was down there, and whether it was human, alien, or machine, long-cherished beliefs of his Alyrian crew were about to be challenged yet again.

Tech Bias
Setting the tech bias in Alyria is particularly difficult. The vast majority of Alyrians have a bias around 4@1; they would understand the concept of tossing a rope over a beam to help lift a load, but would not understand how to use a pulley for the same function. However, as in most worlds, there are many indigs whose abilities are well above this mark. More complicating, this is a type of post-apocalyptic world, in which more advanced but forgotten technology from an earlier age exists and operates, but is not understood by the current indigs.

The referee could decide that the bias in the universe has fallen, such that no one anywhere understands any of the technology which existed prior to the calamity, but automated @0 control systems allow specially trained individuals with superior ability to learn to operate these devices by "pushing the right buttons", as it were. This would place the bias at perhaps 9@8, for those rare individuals who understand how to work in electricity. 9@8 is the level for primitive radio systems, which although not mentioned in the text are not inconsistent with the primitive understanding of some of the indigs. Although the game is playable this way, and a curve of 17 will limit verser skill use, the world as envisioned by the designer would allow indigs to discover and understand its lost technology, requiring a higher bias.

It better fits the design intent for the bias in the universe to be at least 14@7 (the minimum level for interstellar travel and minimum curve for nanite technology, it would support hyperspace drives but not jump drives), although none of the indigs on this planet have skills above 9@8. This supposes that humans or other creatures might still exist elsewhere in the universe retaining such knowledge, but that the knowledge is not found among Alyrians. This is functionally the same for the Alyrians, but gives a higher chance of success in skill learning to the verser. It also opens up the use of higher level tech skills, and the possibility that the verser could learn to make the lost technology of Alyria while present. (If the bias is low, the verser could examine the equipment and use it as an example, but could not acquire the skills to design such technology until leaving Legends of Alyria.)

It is possible that operation and repair skills are not @0 skills, but actually confer bias on the users. Alyrians with higher tech bias is a difficult concept, as there is no inherent reason why they could not learn to make much of the technology which they currently only use. However, it is within the design concept that there are religious and social reasons for their failure to comprehend such principles. This brings out the nature of those indigs who keep the technology, that is, that they have to a sufficient knowledge base to understand the operation and maintenance of these technologies, but are impeded by religious or social taboos which prevent consideration of the application of that knowledge to creation of additional devices.
This is left to the discretion of the referee. Versers can learn and use any technology within the curve. We recommend a 14@7 bias, a curve of 21. Note that the curve is most important in this conversion. For reasons discussed below, bias level will not impact chance of successful skill use.

Psi Bias
It is clear that two groups of Alyrians have psionic abilities, the Misbegotten and the Blessed. Although it might appear at first glance that the Blessed are using supernatural power (thus magic), it is intended that this power comes from within the individual, not from a supernatural realm. Psionic abilities appear to run through 14@10, possibly as high as 15@9 (no Alyrian has the power to create life). The bias should be set at least so high.
However, within Alyria it is not possible to learn such abilities. They are genetic mutations; characters are born with them or do not have them. Although the powers of the Blessed have some flexibility, they cannot learn or teach skills as such. Thus although versers can use any psionic abilities they already possess within the curve, they cannot learn new abilities either by observing the use by others or by experimenting on their own. They may observe such use as examples for the future, but they cannot learn the skills while in Legends of Alyria. Because of this, only the curve (24) matters, in that it excludes 15@10 skills.

Mag Bias
The unicorns and the dragons are supernatural creatures within Legends of Alyria, manifestations of the supernatural good and evil–or in Multiverser terms, the unicorns are minions of alliance powers, and the dragons minions of anarch powers. Their presence alone would suggest that the bias is high. It is not only their presence that does so. The Gifted are those empowered to use supernatural power within Alyria, and those gifts can do anything. The mag bias is 15@10, a curve of 25.

However, there is no native magic in Alyria apart from these gifts, and the gifts are always either alliance or anarch. There are no arcane powers in the world, and no neutral powers. It is recommended that arcane magic be power blocked, particularly if the versers are strong in this area, as significant levels of unaffiliated magic could spoil some of the moral tension in the game. Further, although those using neutral holy magic will have access to their powers, any such use will call attention to the character such that unicorns and dragons will want to prod the character to their side–gently at first, through circumstance and proxy, but eventually through blatant confrontation, demanding that the verser choose sides. Any magic use in Alyria will draw such supernatural attention, as the unicorns and dragons consider such things their province; thus the verser who uses magic will make himself a focal point for supernatural events.

Alyria has an alliance affiliation. It would appear at first glance to be neutral, since good and evil powers appear balanced; yet it cannot be neutral, since neutral powers are quashed. It is the design intent that good be victorious, despite the horrors which exist here.
It should also be noted of the gifts, as with the powers of the Blessed and the Misbegotten, that they cannot be learned or taught. They are given by the unicorns or dragons, or not. Once they are given, they are used as skills by the Gifted; but versers cannot learn any magic skills in this world. They may use such holy magic skills as they already know, and may study the use of gifts as an example for learning in another universe, but cannot learn magic while here. It is possible that a verser might be given a gift. Gifts may also be taken away while in Alyria, if the recipient is not pleasing to the giver, particularly in the use of the gift. Once the Gifted leaves Legends of Alyria, the gift is translated as any other skill to Multiverser terms, but is always connected to the giver.

Bod Bias
The dragons and the unicorns are spirit beings, supernatural in nature. However, they exist within Alyria, in definable locations, and are seen by believers and sometimes by unbelievers. These beings have the ability to shift between corporeal and spirit form, but this ability is probably not a body ability of an indigenous creature but a magical ability of a supernatural visitor. The dragons clearly have physical bodies; they also have the ability to invade dreams. The unicorns, conversely, are often seen as visions, but rarely ever physically contact anyone in a body-to-body sense. However, they have been known to physically strike down evildoers. Such magical transformations between forms are within the mag bias, and these creatures are clearly magical, so it is best to ignore these abilities in setting the bod bias.
Apart from this, the Misbegotten are the indigs with the highest bod skills. These range into the upper 12@ invulnerabilities. No creature in Alyria actually morphs (there are no bullfrogs or butterflies), and there are no symbionts or linkers. Thus 12@10 is a viable bias for the bod area, a high curve of 22.

The ordinary restrictions on bod bias skill learning apply, that is, a verser can only learn those skills for which he has the necessary body parts or prosthetics. The game background offers the possibility that the ripper disease which created the Misbegotten and the Blessed may still be active and virulent, surviving dormant in the indigs who are now immune to its effects. This is a decision that would have to be made within the context of play. A verser infected by the disease might mutate in a manner which caused him to grow new body parts or organs which enabled new body skills. Such changes should be consistent with the rules of Legends of Alyria, if they are allowed, and should combine extremely random development of abilities with disfigurement and deformity as presented under those rules.

Attributes
Legends of Alyria has only three attributes. The verser entering this world will create those attributes from his own.

Force is best described as the character's ability to impose his will on others directly. The specifics are not necessary, as it doesn't matter whether this is done by physical strength or personal intimidation. The verser should convert the best of his Persuasion, Strength, or Will Power to Force.

Insight has a broad range of abilities associated with it. Persuasion, Charisma, Intellect, and Intuition are all closely related to Insight, and the best of these should be used to determine that score.

Determination is both sides of the ability to keep going. Stamina, Resistance, and Will Power are all included in this score, and the verser should use the best of these. At the referee's discretion, a character with a high MV Target Value or Damage Value might use this value instead; it will be rare for one of those average scores to exceed all three of these attributes (nearly impossible for DV, as this would mean an incredibly high Density), but in the event that it does (high Agility and Intuition resulting in a high TV) this is an option.

Legends of Alyria has a five-step attribute system, named for the different prayer offices of the Liturgy of the Hours: Matins, Lauds/Compline, Prime/Vespers, Terce/None, and Sext. Sext should be reserved for superhuman attributes, such as those enhanced by cybernetics or elevated by magic or other techniques–in essence, any 3@ attribute should be converted to Sext. Similarly, 2@ attributes should all be converted to Terce/None. Attributes of 1@8 to 1@10 can be Prime/Vespers, those of 1@5 to 1@7 Lauds/Compline, and those below 1@5 should be Matins.

Although attributes do not change in Legends of Alyria, reverse conversion may be necessary in the case of associates. Use midpoint values for each phase, 1@3 for Matins, 1@6 Lauds/Compline, 1@9 Half, 2@5 Terce/None, 3@5 Sext. In the case of Terce/None and Sext particularly, thought should be given as to whether this value is representative of the character's ability. However, given that there are only three Alyrian attributes against fourteen verser attributes, quite a bit of detail is going to have to be determined. Here are some guidelines.
Each of the Alyrian attributes represents one of those attributes associated with it, but also limits the other attributes so associated. Thus if the character has a Force of Terce/None, then one of the attributes Persuasion, Strength, or Will Power is a 2@5, and neither of the other two is greater than 2@5 unless they are selected as the attribute represented by another attribute. That is, a character with a Lauds/Compline Force, Terce/None Insight, and Prime/Vespers Determination could choose to place Strength at 1@6 (for Force), Persuasion at 2@5 (for Insight), and Will Power at 1@9 (for Determination). However, if the character decided that Insight represented a high intellect at 2@5, Persuasion could not be greater than 1@6 (for Force). In making this determination, it is not suggested that it be done as an exercise in creating the most powerful possible translation of the character, but rather the one most consistent with the narrative values expressed during play in Legends of Alyria. That is, a character with a Terce/None Force who is played in the narration as physically defeating opponents in combat will use that Force score as Strength, while one who is played as intimidating through tenacity or force of personality will convert it to Will Power or Persuasion.
Once the three primary scores are connected to Multiverser equivalents, the remaining attributes should be developed much as if creating a character for ordinary Multiverser play, with one caveat. The ordinary approach involves considering for each attribute what that character's ability level is and giving that a rating. Thus the remaining attributes are derived from an interpretation of the character identity as conceived before and during play: who is this person, and what are their attributes? The one caveat is that those attributes which are related to the three Legends of Alyria attributes cannot be greater than the attribute for which they could have stood. That is, a Prime/Vespers Determination means that the character may have Will Power, Stamina, or Resistance of 1@9. If the Will Power is chosen to be 1@9, the other two scores may not be higher than that. Note that Persuasion and Will Power are each limited by two Legends of Alyria scores, unless they are selected to be represented by the higher of these.

Skills
There is a sense in which there are no skills in Legends of Alyria, and another sense in which they are integral to the character. In Legends of Alyria, resolution is always conflict resolution. Skill use is generally not considered except in that context. Thus, for example, a character's skill with a rifle only means that he is able to fire that rifle within the context of a conflict situation. If the conflict is resolved in the character's favor, he used the rifle effectively to achieve his outcome; if the conflict is resolved against him, it is up to the narration to determine whether he failed to fire the gun, hesitated too long, had the gun misfire, merely missed, or indeed successfully hit the target but lost the fight anyway. Outside of conflict situations, skill use is considered automatic.

However, skills are relevant in terms of what the character can do. That is, a verser might in conflict say, I use my psionic suggestion to convince my opponent to back down, and decide that this is an effort based on insight. Then when the dice are rolled, if the verser is successful the narration will include that he used the skill. He could not use such a power if it were not among his skills.

The skill ability level is not relevant to resolution; however, it may be that player characters with many unusual skills will attempt to overuse these for tactical advantage in ways that are not involved in conflict resolution. The better way to handle this is to recognize that Legends of Alyria gives no bonuses for tactical advantage; thus whatever the character does will not change the probability of success, but merely color the story. If somehow the player does find a way to gain tactical advantage from the heavy use of skills (e.g., using clairsentience skills to scrye on characters constantly), the referee may impose MV Skill Checks on such skills when not used in conflict resolution.

Skill Learning
Alyrians are presumed to know what they know, and as long as such knowledge is reasonable for the character it can be developed as a character ability during play. However, versers tend to try to learn as much as they can in worlds that have unusual technology, and many are always striving to learn other new skills. Multiverser rules will apply to skill learning.

No character can learn a psionic skill while in Legends of Alyria. At the referee's discretion, the ripper virus might cause such skills as mutations, but these will be limited and specific unless the character becomes one of the Blessed (in which case he is subject to the rules for that group). Also, magic skills cannot be learned in the ordinary sense, but can only be Gifted by the unicorns or the dragons; thus skill learning rules do not apply to magic or psionics.

In technology, the character is surrounded by examples. Most of these should be treated as 2@5 examples, provided (in the referee's judgment) the verser has some means of examining them adequately to understand what they are. A vial of quicksilver armor (should the character get hold of one) would require some sort of microscopic examination at least; quicksilver armor viewed on an Alyrian would not serve as an example unless the verser was able to study it in detail. Merely knowing that something is possible does not give the verser an example for how to do it. Alyrians generally do not understand their advanced technology, and so can rarely be examples of skills. The MV SAL of such examples should be adjudicated by the referee, but rarely rises above the mid professional level and is often still in the high amateur range even for those who use the technology frequently. Of considerably greater value are the archives of the Progenitors. The Scriptorium of the Ark and the records at the Core are the greatest of these. However, these archives are guarded as religious relics by indigs who do not understand them. Should the verser gain access to such material, these would be expert level examples, possibly also serving as instruction.

Although there are some incredible body skills in Alyria, these are generally consequent of genetic mutation, and so under the MV bod bias rules cannot be learned without somehow acquiring similar body parts. It is conceivable that the verser could study someone who had skills listed, and so use these as examples. The SAL of such a skill is left to the discretion of the referee.

Alyrians may instruct versers, but do not have skill in teaching. In this case, an appropriate Legends of Alyria attribute should be converted to Multiverser to serve as the MV BRA (half of which is added to the chance of success in learning).

Traits and Virtue
Legends of Alyria rules require characters to have a carefully defined collection of traits. In translating a verser to Legends of Alyria play, the traits are among the most challenging and the most interesting aspects.

The nature of the traits a character has will in some ways depend on his virtue; his virtue might not be easy to determine. However, Legends of Alyria works best for versers with a clear affiliation, such as those with significant holy magic skills. A character who is affiliated with the alliance will have a virtue of Terce/None or Sext. An anarch character will range from Matins to Lauds/Compline. Characters with neutral affiliation and those with no affiliation will be close to Prime/Vespers, Compline if they tend evil, Terce if they tend good, overall in play. A character that has been played as an agent of a supernatural power (alliance or anarch) will probably be on the extreme end, and might also have one or two Inspiration or Corruption points.

Traits should be generated consistent with the known personality of the verser and the character creation rules of Legends of Alyria. For player characters, the player and referee should discuss these traits and reach agreement. For associates, the referee should determine these with advice from the player. Traits are moral, ethical, and personal characteristics, and not skills. Because the verser does not know any Alyrians before he arrives, his traits will be general, such as Fair and Just or Closed-minded or Takes Risks. If verser associates or multiple versers are involved, relational traits become possible, such as Always Protects Claudia or Jealous of Bill. Since every trait is designed to have self-balancing application (it can be used both for and against the character) types and values of traits are not game breakers.

Versing In
The character translation is part of versing in. However, the Legends of Alyria experience is much more than entering the universe. In normal play, player characters become involved at the outset in creating the scenario in which their characters will interact. Thus it is suggested that when the character is versing into Alyria, the referee inform the player of this and proceed with the scenario design aspects, working with the player.

Also, scenarios in Legends of Alyria should have several player characters who are Alyrians. To achieve this in Multiverser play, it may be most desirable to have other players participate in the scenario design and run what are technically (in Multiverser terms) non-player characters within that setting. It is not difficult to incorporate one or two versers into a Legends of Alyria game scenario, as outsiders to the world; the game would not do as well as a gather world, precisely because it would lack the interpersonal tensions created by a good scenario. Design a scenario in which the verser will become involved in this way. The referee might also consider bringing the character in through a Zygote Experience, as the child of an Alyrian.

Versing Out
There are a few quirks to versing out of Legends of Alyria, and a few comments that should be made about certain skills and equipment.

First, it must be understood that in Legends of Alyria a character dies when the player controlling that character believes it would make the best story moment for that character. The text gives an example of a character who rolls Devil’s Hour (the equivalent of a botch) against one who rolls Sext (maximum success), and then states that in this circumstance the character may die if the player decides this would be the right moment in the story for him to do so. This understanding should be expanded. Even if the rolls were reversed–if the verser character rolls the great success against an opponent rolling a botch–it would still be within the player's discretion to narrate an outcome which included the death of his own in this case victorious character. A simple example of this might be that someone has tossed a child from the heights of the web, and the verser is below and sees it falling, leaps to catch it, makes a perfect catch, saving the child as he rolls onto another platform of the web, only to break his own neck and so verse out in the victory. In nearly any conflict resolution, it should be possible for the verser to choose to die.

The players should be made aware of this going into the world. In a sense, for the verser part of play should be about finding the best way to sacrifice his life for what he believes.
If a player chooses not to die, and so survives the scenario, the referee could do either or both of two things. First, he could have the player live through a long period of peace and quiet, or at least routine existence. This sort of play usually makes most players antsy for something to happen, and so increases the likelihood that they will do something which gives them the opportunity to move to another world. Second, the referee should (after a break and together with the players) begin planning a next story into which the player will be drawn, so that he will have another opportunity to make such a sacrifice. Multiverser does not require that the player character ever leave this world, if he wishes to stay here. Seth Ben-Ezra would be pleased to have him reside there for as long as he can continue to find interesting issues to explore.
Assuming the character verses out, there are a number of items which must be translated to Multiverser terms. In many cases the referee will have to examine the skill lists to identify an appropriate equivalent. These notes are for those cases which might not be obvious.
The technology of the ancients is envisioned by the game designer as including much that is nanotechnology. Most of the seemingly magical liquids in the game, such as the quicksilver armor, are conceived as being this, which places it at T12@9 to design, possibly with an @0 use. The referee is certainly free to place these elsewhere if he sees other options, such as the possibility that some are a T12@8 mutagenic virus or even some sort of T14@10 perpetual energy field.

Those also appear to be the most probable explanations for the Outsiders: nanite technology or, less likely, mutagenic virus. It is reasonable to suggest that contamination by the Outsiders is always rapidly fatal, so there is little danger of a verser taking them into the verse at large by accident; however, it is possible that someone might capture some and treat them as equipment. It is doubtful whether any containment would hold them for long.

The restoration process for the Restored is a nanite-based medical procedure that rehabilitates cellular structure. It is not impossible that a verser could receive this treatment, if for example he used a skill that caused him to appear dead for an extended time. Once restoration has been completed, the nanites remain in the body, existing as a sort of high-tech self-repair system. In any universe thereafter, if the bias is at least 12@4 (to support the nanite operation) whenever the character is injured or otherwise afflicted the nanites should roll a skill check against a 2@5 SAL in a Tech 12@1 Medical Diagnosis and Healing skill, which if successful should follow standard healing rules such as restoring RS/10 intensities of damage for injuries or similar relative success responses to other covered conditions such as disease or poison. The check may be made once each round, and so functions as a sort of regenerative ability.

The Restored also have an implant that controls them. The implant is probably a hard-wired mind-machine interface, T13@7, although other possibilities exist. Removal of the device from yourself (any verser character) requires a successful difficult will power check, whether or not in Legends of Alyria when the attempt is made. Safe removal outside Legends of Alyria requires skill at T13@3 Remove Mind/Machine Interface Internal Portion; removal without such skill should be adjudicated by a general effects roll, and may result in reduced non-physical attributes or certain similar botch results such as insanity. An attempt to remove the device while in Legends of Alyria should be adjudicated under Legends of Alyria rules. It is possible that one of the Restored might become a verser associate, or otherwise become infected with scriff. In the former case, it is not necessary for the Restored character to die in order to verse (as he will go with his principal).

The Gifts and the various bod and psi skills of the Misbegotten should be readily translated into Multiverser equivalents. Upon such translation they are thereafter treated as Multiverser skills. Of course, the Gifts are alliance or anarch holy magic, and the character that has such a gift will have to be given an appropriate religion score to support them.

The Dragons and the Unicorns are supernatural beings, equivalent in some sense to demons and angels, or minor deities. As such, they can be contacted from any universe and act within such universes, within the universe bias. Whether they can physically manifest themselves (corporeally) outside of Legends of Alyria, or even away from Alyria (the planet) itself, is up to the referee. However, the dream (dragon) and vision (unicorn) manifestations should be possible anywhere, bias permitting.

The Blessed are more difficult. There are several ways their gift can be handled.
One is to identify each discrete ability the Blessed character used during play and list these individually, but to give the character a 15@9 psi bias. This would mean that the character has the ability to do anything he did before and a very high chance of learning anything new.
Similarly, the referee could list those skills he could imagine that the character used at some point in life, possibly also those that he feels are in keeping with the nature of the character otherwise, as existing skills.

Another solution is to create a P15@9 catch-all power that will do anything (except create life). In this case, the Blessing would only work in very high biased worlds. The blessing is not generally delicate, yet at the same time runs great risk in very dramatic uses. To emulate this, it is recommended that these modifiers be used. If the skill is being used for something delicate, such as a telekinetic tap or slight pyrogenesis warming, it should have a sit-mod penalty against such use up to -30. The referee should have a rough notion of "ordinary" uses of the Blessing, such as flying over walls and blowing open ordinary doors. When the ordinary limits of the power are exceeded, the referee should start applying a positive die mod to the rolls up to +30 (for things like moving planets), with a stipulation on botches that any roll modified to greater than one hundred is a special sort of botch, a Blessing botch.

In any case, Blessed botches should include the Blessing botch options. One of these is that the skill works powerfully but the character receives a mark. Marks are explained in Legends of Alyria; if they clearly would impact the character's abilities, these should be noted in the weaknesses. The other is that the power works, but the character self-immolates, releasing a tremendous burst of heat energy which could be determined by 2d10+5 rolls on the Psionic and Magic Explosions Table. This ranges in damage from Damaging with a Damaging rider to Annihilating with a Dangerous rider, and in area from a two-foot radius to an entire nation. Use of Blessed powers can result in ordinary botches, except in the circumstance presented, in which die mods push the roll over one hundred.

The Blessed also have the re-roll ability, the ability to recall any die roll and roll it again as if the first had not happened. This is most easily converted to a variant of the MV P12@2 Precognitive Combat Bonus. In this interpretation, the character innately foresees his likely failure and adjusts for it before it happens. In play, if a skill check fails or botches, the player may, if desired, roll the precognitive skill. If that is successful, the player may roll for the original skill again with a –10 SM (representing the altered clock face in Legends of Alyria). In this case, a botch on any of the three rolls (including the first) always results in an Legends of Alyria-type Mark, with such other consequences as are indicated by the botch outcome. (If the first roll botches, recalling that roll eliminates the ordinary botch consequences, but creates the Mark; the Mark would not apply to that skill use without the use of the re-roll option, although if the skill being recalled is a Legends of Alyria Blessing use it would have a Mark as one of the botch options.)

It has already been suggested that versers cannot learn Legends of Alyria psionic and magic skills while in Legends of Alyria, but can use observation of such skills as an example for later mastery. In such cases it is normal for the skill to be learned as a Multiverser skill, without the Legends of Alyria limitations (but of course with the Multiverser limitations). A verser could, in theory, be given a Gift; in this case, the Gift translates to Multiverser terms as any other magic skill would. Alyrian unicorns and dragons are very serious about the terms under which they give gifts, and referees should feel free to sit-mod against success on such gifts if characters have not been living as expected by the giver.

Character Sheet and Other Resources

1990-01-01T00:29:00.000-06:00

Legends of Alyria character sheet (PDF)