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| Kôhp
Nyr Kôhpitol Royale |
Bridgeville
Majin Dûcton |
Aarunvale
Hilldale Forestvale |
Fyr Kôhpitol
Kôl Bhyd Outpost |
Bridgeville
The land: Bridgeville
is itself a peculiarity of the kingdom: it is the only city to stand astride
a river. The Royale and Red Rivers merge just outside the northern
walls of the city, and divide Bridgeville neatly in two. The Bridge
of Bridgeville is renown throughout the world; for over five centuries
it has withstood the tests of time without the slightest need of repair.
The skies directly above the Bridge are always clear, as if the gods themselves
have maintained this as their window unto the world. Bridgeville
lies just a day's travel southeast of Royale, midway between that city
and the village of Forestvale, and just a few kilometres from the western
edge of the Golden Forest. Both the foresting and fishing industries
thrive in Bridgeville, assuring its economic stability and importance.
Woodcarvers and crafters from all over the world come to apprentice in
Bridgeville. The city is not, however, much of a transportation center:
the Scar, which lies a day's travel to the south along the River Sern is
treacherous and impassable chasm filled with waterfalls and horrible rapids.
Bridgeville is the second largest city of Stephen, bested only by the metropolis
of Near Capital. Still, at nearly 50,000 inhabitants, Bridgeville
is a large and rather profitable duchy.
The lord: Duke
Marcus Guillame is a gluttonous and hedonistic man, an opportunist riding
upon the large and prestigious line of the Guillame family and the great
tax revenue of a prosperous city. Duke Guillame is hardly concerned
with the well-being of his people or the justice of his courts and militia:
he leaves such petty an political concerns to his mayor, Octavius LeVea.
While Marcus Guillame
wastes his days and his duchy's money in grandiose balls and drunken orgies,
LeVea is always hard at work attempting to keep the raucous city of Bridgeville
in check. His greatest enemy is the towering Thieves’ Guild, led
by the infamous Immortal Darkness, a mythical assassin and thief who seems
to be truly immortal. Against such formidable odds, Octavius rules
Bridgeville with an iron fist: the Watch is brutal, and justice in the
city's courts equally so.
The people: Despite
its size and thriving economy, the people of Bridgeville are not nearly
as metropolitan and diverse as those of Nyr Kôhpitol. Foreigners
and non-humans are regarded with suspicion at best, and more typically
severe prejudice. The prosperity of recent times has done something
to relax these racial attitudes, but the strict and severe hand of Watch
is as blind as ever. The resident nobility of Guillame's duchy, many
of whom reside in the city proper near the Duke himself, often copy his
flippant and hedonistic practices.
Majin
The land: Majin is
a city of magic, teeming with mages, wizards and scribes. Aside from
the great and ancient city of Rackash far to the south in Ruûn, Majin
is the greatest human center of magic study and practice, boasting seven
large magical academies, whose headmasters also serve as the city's ruling
body. Majin is large and wealthy enough to be walled, but as one
approaches the city, even from a great distance, a great number of colorful
spires can be seen towering above the city walls. The city itself
is orderly and clean, constantly humming with a strange magical energy
that infuses the air. Only far to the south, in the ancient city
of Rackash can such an amount of human magic be found nestled in a single
place. This is not to necessarily state that the commonfolk of Majin
are everyday spellcasters or any more educated than their fellow citizens
of Stephen, but they do tend to be content in the their prosperous and
well-run city, and more tolerant, even jaded and difficult to impress,
with the strange and magical.
The lord: Unlike
any of the other duchies of Stephen, Majin and its surrounding lands is
ruled by a council of powerful wizards, the Conseil. The Conseil
is composed not of democratically elected representatives, but simply of
the headmasters of the seven dominant academies of Majin, or the headmaster's
designated representative. The Conseil is a dutiful, if often
verbose and conservative, ruling body, meeting at least weekly to discuss
matters of both practical, political and magical importance. A speaker
of the Conseil, the Conseilor is elected by the council every
eleven years, and presides over their meetings to mitigate disputes and
lead conversation. The current Conseilor is an elderly human
named Phylim, the headmaster of Gurn Academy. Phylim is somewhat
passed his prime (rumors are beginning to abound that this, his fourth
term, will be his last). But Phylim is still respected and saught-after
for his incredible wealth of alchemeic and historical knowledge.
The people:
The people of Majin are a contented and equitable lot, no more educated
than the average commoner, but much more tolerant than most stephenians.
They are constantly surrounded by magical feats ad powers, from the mundane
and awkward use of an apprentice's first cantrip, to the awesome
magical prowess of the headmasters of the academies. The courts and
watch of Majin reflect this attitude: they are rather lax, but attentive
and fair handed.
Of particular note in Majin
is Madame's Böv's Magic Shop. Madame Böv is mystical
and rootless woman, who some suspect to be older than the city itself,
for her rather tiny and inconspicuous shop has sat on it's corner for as
long as anyone can remember. The simple demeanor and diminutive size
of Madame's Böv's shop is offset enormously by two things: its patrons,
some of the most affluent, and influential, adventurers and spellcasters
in Stephen, and its wares: an enormous variety of magical items, from simple
magically-enhanced swords and daggers, to the most rare even unique items
of magic and mysticism. However, all of these extravagant wares are
not without their extravagant costs: any item with Madame Böv may
have - if she has it - will cost at least 10 times it XP-value,
according to the DMG. In addition to this enormous price, the Magic
Shop is nothing like the modern supermarket: Madame Böv has only a
base 30% of having any one item in stock at any given time. The DM
may modify this for certain items. For example, potions of healing
may be fairly easy to obtain or at least produce, and one can count on
Madame Böv having one or two lying about at any time, but elfin chain
mail, or boots of striding may quite a bit more difficult to obtain.
If a PC is patient, he may wait until Madame can obtain the item he needs;
Madame Böv's chance of procuring any requested item gains 5% cumulatively
every month. If a PC is lacking patience, but dripping with gold,
Madame can attempt to construct a special item for him. These items
cost at least 20 times their XP value in the DMG, but they
will be of the highest quality, no matter how long it may take Madame to
construct a perfect item.
Dûcton
The land: Dûcton
is a sleepy little town nestled between the Forest of the Druid and the
Forest of the Unicorn, well off the beaten path of the Pilgrim's Way.
To the west, a branch of the Mountains of the Unknown towers over the town
like a great grey giant; to the east, a young and verdant valley runs between
the forest to reach the Dale Prairies in the heart of Stephen.
Dûcton is mainly a farming village, slow and quiet, but its tranquility
has made it a favorite place for those of means to "get away". A
number of retired adventurers, great mercenaries and aging noblemen have
made Dûcton their home, or at least have constructed a ridiculously
large estate upon the borders of the town in which they spend a few care-free
weeks every year to unwind from the hassles of courtly life or the harrows
of local politics. Small castles and simple estates dot the landscape
surrounding Dûcton, and for brief times during the year, usually
towards the end of the summer, the sleepy town becomes a raucous center
of noblemen and their households, visiting for their annual rest.
The lord: Duke Alorn
Hutchet knew a good thing when he saw one, both in the quiet serenity of
his chosen duchy, and in the horrendous taxes he levies on the nobility
during their annual visits. Duke Hutchet is a fair man, and actually
rather kind to his peasants and the resident nobility. He is never
so scrupulous, however, not to take advantage of the great wealth the visiting
noblemen bring to the otherwise backwater duchy of Dûcton.
The people:
The permanent inhabitants of Dûcton, that is its few farmers and
native-born commoners and merchants, are a quiet people intent on being
happy with their simple lots in life. They view their annual visitors
and all their unnecessary energy with disdain: a necessary evil to be tolerated.
The visiting nobility seems to take delight in the simplistic ways of the
people of Dûcton, and in their self-righteousness cannot see the
ironic smirk that seems to flash over the face of a common milkmaid.
