Politics

Global

The central politic of to’Ren is mutual aid. This is so widely understood that the overwhelming majority of beings will sacrifice their own lives for the sake of their communities. Examples of this are so commonplace as to be wholly unworthy of mentioning, but for the sake of understanding, some examples are shared here. 

Trees, when they encounter a new disease, will immediately cease all growth functions and divert all resources to finding an effective antibody. Should a tree find an effective antibody, they will not go into full-scale production of that antibody for personal defense. Instead, they will begin producing pheromones coded with the instructions to make that antibody, and dumping those pheremones into the air, so that other trees can begin production of the antibody and increase the forest’s overall defense against the disease. 

There is an incomprehensibly vast, interconnected network of subterranean life that wraps most of the globe. This network is capable of utilizing similar neurotransmitters to those in animal brains, but have the added benefit of having transmitter cells which lack cell walls, allowing a hybrid of electrical and chemical communication which operates globally at only slightly less than the speed of light. This network provides a ranging host of mutual aid services, ranging from supporting plants by making trace nutrients available and allowing stationary beings such as plants to share vast amounts of carbon for medical support following injury, all the way to providing a global communication network for beings capable of interfacing with the network. Beings deeply connected to this network are able to travel globally using a method of allowing the local fungi to consume their bodies and consciousness and regrow both at another point in the network. 

On more purely animal levels, this politic of mutual aid expresses in the injured deer who will turn to face the tiger. It expresses in the way that the various species native to to’Ren have history beyond measure of offering aid in times of need, and sharing freely with travelers. It expresses today in the vibrant gift economies of the Elves in Doroneth and Gnomes of Gwaroon, where despite the Empire’s occupation and exploitation, the backbone of the societies remains the ancient practice of finding a meaningful role for yourself in the community, and contributing in a substantive way without immediate compensation. 

It expresses in the monetary economies of Baeo and Groast, where finances are used to track trade, but each person’s financial wealth returns to the collective upon their death, and each new generation inherits an exact division of the previous year’s estate. 

Nowhere in the two-legged does this global politic of mutual aid express as deeply as in the free territories of ale’Keli. While quite similar to the economies of Gwaroon and Doroneth, ale’Keli’s unconquered status has tempered the investment in that way of life into a fine and rugged blade. The Free Peoples undertake their work with a drive and passion unmatched anywhere in the world, and the fierce pride in the eyes of any given worker cleaning a street illuminates the depth of their commitment to a free world. ale’Keli operates on a broad gift economy which supplies every aspect of a whole and healthy life. Housing, medical care, food, clothing, common entertainment, and standard equipment and supplies are entirely given. They are emphatically not free, as any new-comer who makes the mistake of phrasing it as such is immediately reminded. They cost everything, and the recipient of a shirt or a house in ale’Keli is forever in debt to their community. But it is true that anyone can walk into any store and meet their basic needs without offering anything in immediate payment. This system is supplanted by a Time Bank where people trade in luxuries. There is an entire Time Bank economy, in which one can procure items such as caviar or complex specialty games or toys for the amount of one’s own time that it took the craftspeople to make them. This entire economy is secondary to the central gift economy, so all free people contribute to their communities freely and substantively, and all people are accountable for their time. Time Banking is auxiliary to, never at the expense of, the gift economy. 

While this in-depth examination of Kelian economics may seem overly zoomed-in, it is shared here to demonstrate how the broader politic of mutual aid expresses for an advanced civilization. The people of ale’Keli behave within the same politic as the mushrooms and the trees. One could argue that they are part of the same body politic, and embody the practices established by millennia of consensus practice by millions of species. Bear this baseline politic in mind, as it is essential to understand how normal, well-established, and widespread this politic is in order to understand how problematic the deviations from it to come are.

Atrian Empire

to’Ren had seen local governments and leaderships rise and fall for millenia, but nothing like the Atrian Empire. The Atrian Empire is a human empire, based in ta’Ot. Originally a political faction within the messy but generally democratic council systems of old ta’Ot, the Atrians gained prominence through a combination of public weaponization of their faith and private control of banking systems.  The Atrians were the first in to’Ren to practice slavery, albeit secretly in the beginning. They captured some 100 elves, and forced them to the task of industrializing magic. This gave the Atrians a series of progressively more devious weapons, which could be wielded by their Knights, the Zealots. It later turned out that these weapons could be wielded by anyone, but that was a jealousy kept secret for a hundred years, and by the time it became more widely known, most of the continent had been converted by the flaming swards of the Atrian Zealots. The Empire started in northern Toven, and it’s control remains largely unquestioned there. It has spread across the known world, with the two deeply notable exceptions of Groast, the Dwarven mountain lands, and ale’Keli, formerly known as the Pirate Isles, now known as the Free Isles or more often simply Keli.

The Empire maintains military occupation throughout Baeo, Gwaroon, and Doroneth. It has outposts and claims allegiance from Draketh and ma’Resh, though those claims are somewhat dubious, due to both the geography of those regions and the temperaments of their inhabitants, being predominantly Drow and Orcs, respectively.

The combined challenges of the Spine, the Torgai, and Torest made it difficult for the Empire to bring the full weight of their hand to bear on Groast, and the organized resistance efforts of the Free peoples have thus far prevented ale’Keli from being conquered. But all the geographic barriers and organized resistance would have fallen, were it not for certain other circumstances which have curtailed the Empire’s might.

The Empire sees the entire world as subject to their authority, and their devotion is to be fed at all costs. This led them to effectively enslave a vast majority of the population (though religious fervor prevented most of the human slaves and many others from seeing it as such.) During this time, the ecology of ta’Ot was shifted to a point of apocalyptic sparsity. Atrian agricultural methods are pure slash-and-burn, stripping field, forests, and sea alike of anything that would feed the ever-widening maw of their hungry God. Over time, this stretched the empire thin. All the land south of Rush has become a veritable hellscape; the extractive farming of the empire eroding the tenuous grasp that plants had spent millenia gaining on that baking-hot land. While maps still paint the coasts green, the desert has crept further and further west, and living trees are now a rare thing. Since the empire was built on the produce of that land, it has struggled more and more each year to feed it’s own populace. The only arable land east of the Spine is now the thin strip north of Rush, which is heavily occupied by trolls who have no love at all for the Empire. The cost in the lives of enslaved people forced to farm there has earned that land the colloquial name “the blood farms.” 

The Empire’s once-iron grasp on Toven, the largest land mass in to’Ren, has been starved down to a bony stranglehold. As their power has waned, so has their devotion and insistence on keeping it waxed. West of the Spine, the Empire is better fed from the occupied territories of Baeo and the Torgai, but less organized, and perhaps less devout. The only exception to this is the rebuilt garrison at Nightwatch, which remains the spiritual and military heart of the Zealot order, and perceives it’s self as the only line of defense between all of to’Ren and spiritual damnation. 

The Empire united the humans of to’Ren. Sometimes overtly, and sometimes with dogwhistles, the Atrians painted humans as superior and more spiritually deserving in every way. Overwhelmingly, the humans of to’Ren rallied behind, or at least tacitly supported and benefited, from the Empire. While some humans were enslaved, usually as nominal “punishment for crimes”, it was not the norm and humanity was, for a time, synonymous with the Empire. There were always groups of resistance within the impoverished humans, largely in ta’Ot it’s self, but they were few and far between, and had no impact on the Empire’s span or on the other species’ perception of the Empire. 

As the empire has slowly starved to death, allegiance to the empire within the human population has fallen dramatically. While the average resident of Tisane or Pa’en will still publicly pledge allegiance to the empire, it is less and less genuine for many. That said, the support for the empire has also crystalized in the population of humans. Many remember fondly the Glory Days of the empire’s strength, when slave labor and conquest made goods and services cheap for human citizens, and they could live in pride and privilege, looking down on the uncivilized species who the empire was in the process of enlightening. These proud imperialists hate the “traitors” who have lost their love of the empire, and view them as the reason for the shortages. There is a strong sentiment that if only everything could could go back to the way it was, things would be perfect. 

Opinions on the empire now create a stark binary in the population of to’Ren. The resistance constitutes the overwhelming majority of species. The Free Territories of ale’Keli are a melting pot of organized resistance, and in the rest of to’Ren one can basically count on any non-human being opposed to the Empire, with the exception of long-enslaved peoples, devout converts, and a few Orcic communities. There are growing contingents of humans who oppose the Empire, with various levels of integration or implementation of that opposition. 

Support for the Empire is overwhelmingly human. Odds are good that any human you meet supports the Empire, even if they voice criticisms now. They have been benefiting from the structural hierarchies of the Empire for generations, so even their opposition is tempered by their elevated status within the Empire. 

ale’Keli

ale’Keli was, for most of history, a pirate community. A rough place, it also had a hard-to-spot kind of egalitarianism. Perhaps this grew from the long-standing pirate tradition of mutinying against captains who were deemed unfit. For most of pirate history and lore, this was entirely informal, but recent pirate tradition stated that the captaincy was an elected position. The need for efficiency in decision making was understood, but the decision of who had the authority to make those quick decisions was entirely collective. Sometimes older pirates were given a bit more than a vote in those decisions, and sometimes someone who had been grievously wronged by a captain was given a bit more than a vote. So it was not a majority-rules system, though voting was a part of it. Beyond that, a single well-respected crew member often had the ability, through sheer drama, to interrupt the entire process of voting for a captain, or anything else. In this way, there was a raw form of consensus in the pirate tradition.

These may seem like mere trivia from a millenia ago, but understanding this background is central to understanding how ale’Keli runs today. From the outside it looks like a horrific mess of a political system, especially for the size community that ale’Keli now holds. There is a General Assembly once a year, from which all power flows. In this way, it remains a direct, participatory democracy. The General Assembly is open to any member of the community, which means that this single meeting is open to some 1.3 million people. Most people do not attend the General Assembly; they chose representatives from their communities to attend. In this way, it is a representative democracy, though not exclusively since any community member can attend. The General Assembly is fairly simple- it is a clarification of Councils, and election of Council members, with a space at the end for Relevant Business. Nominees and candidates for Council positions often give brief introductions and summaries of their positions, though not always; established council members with strong reputations will often not bother. Clarification of Councils is often more contentious than Elections, because that is when the number of seats is set, and the organization of the councils themselves. This means that people can be excluded or included by de facto in the process of decreasing or increasing seats.

Beyond this, the elections are not straight numerical. In the pirate tradition, there is weight given to community Elders, and weight given to Most Affected Parties. Elder does not mean “old person,” so in effect this means that people identified collectively as Elders in the community are given more input, and Most Affected Parties generally means representatives from the Refugees Council are also given greater input. Conversely, Human defectors from the Empire are given lesser input. The varying weights of these scales are evaluated and set each year by the relevant councils.

So while this system may look messy and inefficient from the outside, from the inside, it looks even worse. On a personal level, there is constant jockeying for position, manipulation, power-plays, abuse of power, assumption of worst intent, and accusations of all sorts of non-community minded behavior. On an organizational level, the councils are often defined by intention rather than actual scope of authority, which means that every time a council does anything, it is guaranteed to step on the toes of ten other councils, who then pick up vendettas against the offending council, or use the perceived infraction to try and extract means towards their own goals.

ale’Keli could never exist in it’s current state were it not for two things. The first is the Empire. ale’Keli never wanted to be a political entity, and it only exists as such in resistance to the Empire. Almost all the trauma that expresses as the hot political mess that is ale’Kelian politics is directly traceable back to the Empire, and there are usually enough Elders around to keep people from actually coming to blows, and often enough around to get people breathing and talking again, with their focus on moving forward. Statistically, enough people remember why they are there to keep the whole mess functioning.

The other thing that holds ale’Keli together and keeps it functioning are the Bards. This likely makes no sense to anyone who is not a Bard or has not spent significant time at Tone, but enough bards distribute themselves across the Councils of ale’Keli, and engage behind the scenes, to keep things moving. They are the grease that allows the machine of ale’Keli to progress and not destroy it’s self with the heat of it’s own friction. 

Tone

Understanding the politics of Tone is not something that can be done from a text. It takes, at a minimum, three lifetimes of study. Here is laid out some of the structure of Tone’s politics, but do not make the mistake of thinking that because you have grasped the basic structures, you understand Tone or her political realities, even in the slightest. 

In order to grasp even the structures of Tone’s political system, one must understand the arc and structure of the life of every Bard. 

Progression

There are four stages to a Bard’s life. 

1. Initiation. Lasting a year and a day, Initiation is intended to be a time of purification and reflection. It retains some of this, an hour a day of meditation, simple foods, counseling to release prior misconceptions, and martial training. During Initiation, Initiates get to know the Bards, and find a Mentor. Initiates who fail to find a Mentor may stay another year, but at the end of that time they must depart. 
2. Apprenticeship. After Initiation, Apprentices spend some period of time with a Mentor. This is usually between a year and seven, though there are exceptions on both sides. Mentors must sponsor Apprentices for Audition. Audition pieces are traditionally done on The Gallows, though this is not a requirement. The Chord sits all Auditions, and should the Apprentice perform well, they are given a small brooch made of tiny pan pipes, known as ‘Bars.’ A performer who has earned their pipes is said to be ‘Barred,’ or, of course, a Bard. 
3. Bard. As full-fledged Bards, most travel widely, performing at inns and small stages. Some few gain repute, and travel the high-end circuit, from the castles of Dorest to the lofty halls of ta’Ot to the upscale club scene of ta’At. Most bounce through Tone regularly, as it feels the most like home, even to those who have permanent quarters elsewhere. 
4. Elder. Elders are still, of course, Bards, but they play a different role. Like being Barred, Elderhood is controlled by The Chord. Upon reaching a certain point, old Bards are invited to a secret ceremony, followed by a public (to Bards) initiation ceremony. Most, but not all, choose to step back from the political forays, and many travel less. They take more of a hand in guiding Initiates. Some take Apprentices. Elderhood is a bit of an enigma to many Bards, including many Elders. 

 Tide

Tide is the great performance hall/bar(/political center of the world?) which sits at the heart of Tone. This is where travelers dream of visiting, and where musicians careers are made, or far more often, all their hopes are dashed like so many faberge eggs thrown upon the Bla’cliffs. The structure of the space is comprised of six parts. 

1. Root. This is where the main entrance stairs open out, and is just below the Gallows. Root is the most casual, and any and all are easily welcome there. There are full kitchens and Root is a full-service restaurant for much of the day. The pit is a highly mutable place, and worth tracking. During raucous performance, it becomes a mosh pit, with highly energetic, often violent dance. During even moderately lively performances, there’s an extreme risk of pickpocketing in the pit. On the other end of the spectrum, during some formal performances, it is a formal, double-cordoned, by-plate restaurant that runs a platinum a seat. These dinners are sometimes fund-raisers, sometimes silent, cutthroat contract negotiations, and sometimes weddings or funerals of the movers and shakers of to’Ren. These dinners occur sporadically, sometimes several in a month, sometimes only a few in a year. For musical plays, the pit becomes an orchestra pit, which is the origin of the name. 
2. The Gallows. This 20x40f stage is far more than it seems. Every part of it is customizable, both by technological and also magical innovation. It is home to the most precise and realistic illusion magic in the world, and also a vast clockwork apparatus of controls allowing the entire deck to be adjusted, inch by inch, to whatever structure the performance could desire. This illusion magic is such that performers can put themselves in whatever environ they wish; atop a lonely mountain, under the deepest sea, alone, with family; whatever they wish. While veterans tend to eschew this, many virgin performers believe it helps them relax. The Gallows are magically amplified with adjustable sound-proofing, so that the performer can have whatever level of audio they desire from each tier of Tide. The Gallows can shape image, scent, feel, even taste – the one thing it will never do is make a sound. No backup, no alteration, nothing except amplification with perfect, searing fidelity. It is said to be built atop a massive 12-sided crystal which was the natural heart of the cave, of untold power and resonance. The Gallows was originally the flat, uppermost face of this crystal, and Tone grew around it, as Bards were drawn to stay and learn and play in the presence of the great rock. Compound on this the cultural weight, history, and pressure of the space itself, and one can understand why Bards break like spun sugar upon it regularly. Many a Bard works a lifetime for the chance to perform on The Gallows, only to fall to pieces before playing a note. Many more make it through their first performance thereon and immediately collapse into body-wracking sobs, needing to be carried to rest for day after. It has its own power, and every Bard who’s set foot on it agrees that it’s the most meaningful and terrifying seat in the world. 
3. Third, or Three. (Note that this is never called “the Third tier”, being, in fact, the first tier.) Three is a slightly more upscale atmosphere. There are very rarely fights, and the security pays a slightly closer eye. It is considered the safest place in Tide, and generally respectable-looking newcomers are gently ushered in that direction during busier performances and times. There is pub-service dining. Being only slightly elevated above the Gallows, it offers an intimate and personal view of performances, and is considered by many to be the best seats in the house. Because of this, it is often crowded during popular acts. 
4. Fifth, or Five. Fifth is a quieter, more relaxed version of Third. It is certainly a little more upscale, and drinks are a little pricier, but it somehow shares some of the relaxation of Root. There is light fare at the bars, but there’s not many meals. Another thing it shares with Root is that eyes are a little sharper here. On Third, most people are paying attention to the music or their companions. On Root and Fifth, it’s more common for people to watch strangers, even if it’s less overt on Fifth. There’s an older crowd here, and quiet conversation is the norm. There are almost never fights on Fifth. 
5. Seventh, or Seven, or “The Birdcage” is the highest social tier of Tide. Narrower and longer than the rest, there is a tension in the air. It is the only tier that is guarded, and those guards are often misunderstood. Sometimes folks try to go up there and turn around at the guards, telling their companions on Fifth that they were not allowed. This is not explicit, the guards rarely speak unless spoken to, but both they and Seventh alike have a certain quality of discernment. Most people simply won’t walk between the two guards who stand atop that stair, unless they know they’re welcome, or they’re uncommonly bold. Upon achieving access, there’s a tensions in Seventh that few can sustain. Something in the air, people want to return to third or root. “Unstable,” some have called it. The folks who linger there are a different breed, either rooted enough in themselves to hold it or driven by something that holds them apart. Often folks on Seventh are looking for something; a deal or a task done, and they will meet this goal and then be on their way. Some of those who stay are brokers in these favors and turns. This makes it an easy place to get caught up in things that sometimes move quickly, a competent looking stranger on Seventh may be asked odd questions, or simply slipped a purse and told where to meet. This may or may not go well for the stranger. It goes without saying that drinks are prohibitively expensive there, and food is limited to tiny, often exotic, exorbitant finger foods. Fights are unheard of on seventh- either a duel is challenged, or, occasionally, someone is killed. Anything in between would be unthinkable. 
6. The Background. To keep a place like Tide running round the clock, round the year requires vast, invisible structure. Cleaning, cooking, serving, and performing are constant, they literally never stop. Supply, maintenance, and repair are ongoing. There is a small army of support behind what visitors encounter in Tide, and like much of Tone, some are not what they seem. The obvious example is that at this moment in time, one of the Sweeps, a half-gnome, half-halfling named Qa, is the eldest Note. She maintains her duties, and unlike many of the Sweeps, she literally sweeps some part of the floor every morning, and does other regular cleaning as well. She claims it keeps her grounded, and lets her see. The overwhelming majority of visitors to Tide would, upon seeing Qa, only see a very elderly, odd-looking halfling who is slowly sweeping around the floor, usually on Root or 7th. They would never know that she is one of the 8 most powerful beings in Tone, and some might say in the world. Qa obviously knows this, and finds the occasional disrespect she suffers from ignorant patrons amusing, to a point. Regardless of Qa, the depth of drama and politics that riles in the Background is intense. For example, the sous chef Clo’s prize stallion, who was set to breed Keep Lorn’s 20 platinum hotblood mare, turned up gelded, and the contract went to Klint, Clo’s ex husband Frot’s new lover. Klint is a server in the Sharp Kitchen, or was, until Clo’s sister ‘accidently’ spilled three gallons of boiling oil down his leg, and he won’t set foot in the same room with her. He was moved to Third, but the stablehand who tends Clo’s stallion-now-gelding’s twin works there, and glares pure fire at Klint every shift they share. Any who think this is less tense and vicious than the Chancellor from to’Ot  up in Seventh trying to find someone who can recommend a very discreet assassin, has never worked in a kitchen, or with bards. 

Governance

Tone is governed by an 8-seat council known as ‘The Chord.” The proper honorific for members of this council is “Note.” The Chord has the ability to expel members by a 3/4 majority, but this almost never happens; generally seats only open when a Note “fades” (dies).  The identities of the Notes are generally kept from the uninitiated, though this is not absolute, some non-bards are aware of the identities of some Notes. In public places, Notes are simply greeted by name, or the Bardic Honorific of ‘Instrument – Name.’ Under The Chord there are two stated tracks of rank in Tone, and at least four unstated. 

The stated tracks of rank are these:

• Bardic skill, which is denoted by reputation and common knowledge. A brand-new bard who is truly a prodigy is granted both honor and some influence.
• Role within Tone; for example,
  • Stablemaster, 
  • Director, who oversees The Gallows.
    • Assistant Director, who directly supports the Director
    • Assist. Director of Lights
      • Jr. Assist. Dir. of Lights
  • Cavemaster, who oversees all the physical maintenance and development, 
  • Bridgemaster, who oversees security and any exercise of force,
  • Preceptor, who coordinates instruction of initiates and apprentices
  • and so on

This furthest left column of bullets are known as the Peaks, and they are the top of their respective responsibility pyramids. Each Peak has an entourage of staff under them, who answer to them, and who might have more influence than one would initially guess, given their role or the hierarchy they fall in. For example, one of the current Assistant Preceptors, Hain, handles much of the acceptance of initiates. While Preceptor Bowen has the final say in who is allowed in, Hain takes applications and interviews, and organizes papers for the Preceptor. Since Barding is a family profession for many, Hain’s true influence and leverage extend far beyond the seemingly diminutive title of “Assistant Preceptor.” None of this is meant to imply that Hain is unethical in her work, in fact many credit her with holding a very ethical line in her role, but this does nothing to shift the innate influence her position holds, whether she leverages it or not, and that truth is not forgotten among the ebb and flow of power and favor in Tone.

The Unstated ranks are these:

• Seniority. There is a simple honor and respect given to people who have been Bards for a very long time, even if they’re terrible at it, and haven’t done much of anything. This applies most to Elders.
• Influence. Some people simply have the knack for surfing the waves of favor and intrigue that run rampant across a small, rich, powerful enclave of performers. 
• Financial. Tone is wealthy, and maintains its wealth through many paths, ranging from the bar tabs to long-planned financial investments, and some would say machinations playing off the various factions of to’Ren. Also, given their transient nature, many Bards leave all the have to Tone when they die. So, the favored daughter of a prominent trading family from Dorest will be find herself among many friends in Tone. 
• Political. Add to the reasons just stated above that many political officers will become Patrons of The Arts, meaning that they will commit to ongoing support of an artist, group of artists, branch of art, or of Tone as a whole, though this last is seen as a bit of an uncultured act. More importantly, many Bards live from castle to castle, and paddling through and surfing on the waves of various local politics is a matter of their livelihood, and occasionally their lives. Maintaining good relations with as many governments as possible is, in some ways, the lifeblood of Tone and the Bardic Order. This also takes the two distinct paths of relationship to the Empire and relationship to everyone else. So a Bard who is close with the Empire officials has some sway. A bard who is close with Groast or ale’Keli has some sway. Bards who have both, now they are a powerful group indeed.

Pins

Rank is a flexible thing, and one layer of it is Pins. Pins are a system of access, but they are also much more than that. Each pin is a tone on the C major scale, so there are 8 of them, starting with C. Pins are under a fixed spell, so that the bearer of a pin can only see the pins of equal or lesser rank, unless they are a Bard, in which case they can see all pins. The intention of this was that visitors of rank behave respectfully to all strangers, lest they be Notes or other dignitaries. It does have this effect sometimes, but as often it gives some rich brat with an E pin the excuse to be unbearably rude to someone with a C pin. 

Pins don’t mean that you’re guaranteed a welcome, and it’s not uncommon to see people without the ‘appropriate’ pin for the area they’re in- it’s mostly a matter of who would be assumed to be out of place. Someone entering a private performance hall on Seventh without an F pin would be questioned, and if their answers did not suffice, removed; as a matter of decorum. Being a private, if open, community of around 400, most Bards in Tone recognize each other, and have some sense of who the other is. People traveling with Bards with an A pin or above are almost never questioned, unless they’re doing something very suspicious, or that particular Bard is on the outs for some reason. All this is to explain that pins, especially the first four, have a great deal more weight to non-Bards than to Bards.

• C pin is little more than a backstage pass, it grants access to the dress rooms, quarters on Fifth, and for deliveries to the kitchens. They are popular among young traveling nobels, and are given to any performers or crew who are at Tone as a matter of course. Barkeeps can hand out C pins. 
• D pin will grant access to quarters on seventh, baths, and the private performance halls of Three. 
• E pin gets you into the private performance halls of Fifth, the archives, and the lecture halls. 
• F pin opens the private audition halls of seventh and the overlook known as Dare, directly adjacent to the heaviest part of Veil. 
• G pin grants access to Overtone, the restaurant (for lack of a better work) where most Bards eat, above Tide, and the quarters, practice halls, and utilities adjacent to it. All initiated Bards have at least an G pin. (This confuses some non-Bards, because a novice Bard would likely never go up to Seventh, and only to a private performance if invited. This is the misconception – the pins are not quite as linear as they seem.) 
• A pin is, in some ways, an all-access pin, with a few exceptions, such as the treasury. It is a common pin, held by most full-fledged bards. It is also a common pin in that basically all the Sweeps have an A pin, for obvious reasons. 
• B pin is reserved for those who need access to the treasury, or the Deeps (guarded store-rooms where items of strange purpose, Bardic value, old Magic, or simply great worth are kept. These items are often brought out as Muses, or to utilize their magic or fiscal value. Some, however, are simply given space and maintained.) There are very few B pins around. 
• High C pin is the only pin not made of polished gold. It is made of pure light, though it is muted to a dim glow. Only Notes may wear this pin, and it opens every door. Few Notes in modern times bother, except on formal occasions. 

G pin is the mark between Bards and everyone else. Tone being, in addition to a large music hall, home to many Bards, they need to draw a line, and that line represented by the G pin. There are no pompous dignitaries in Overtone, it’s just casual, family-style dining. There’s no charge for food there, and it’s exceptionally comfortable. Bards know the value of relaxing. There are occasionally non-Bards up there, but they’re friends of Bards, and they’re chill. 

Astute readers may note that there has been no mention so far of how governance actually works, other than some loose hierarchy. This is because Bards govern by an incomprehensible, ever-changing system of councils. Councils are mutable, both in form and in membership. Often councils will arise to address a certain situation. Most dissolve, but some become institutionalized and remain, gathering what power and influence they can- or not. Some councils become simple social clubs, or study groups, or bands, or some combination thereof. Some bands become councils, and ascent to near-Godlike influence before being overthrown or dying or some charismatic leader needing to visit someone somewhere and the council fizzling away. It’s hellaciously inefficient, often with many councils pulling towards different goals, or worse yet, towards the same goal with different plans. It is a system that is constantly reinventing itself, but never going anywhere new, so it has all the weaknesses of both an upstart and a well-worn model, with almost none of the benefits; things are simultaneously being run by passionate greenhorns and oligarchic good-old-boy’s clubs. 

Young Bards are constantly trying to revise or destroy this system, which everyone agrees is terrible for governance, leads to a constant stream of deeply hurt feelings, and fosters the very worst kind of political machination and backstabbing. Everyone can see that it’s awful. From the view of young Bards, it appears impossible to alter given the nature of the problem. They get a few people together to discuss how bad it is, and damn it, they’ve made a new council, and someone else agrees or disagrees with that they’re doing, and the whole thing just feeds itself. 

Older Bards have a different take, though they almost never say a word about it with the younger Bards, because young Bards can’t hear it yet. 

Immediate and unerring interpretation of politics is a life skill for Bards. For the Bardic Order as a whole, it’s far more important than performance. If a Bard gives a lousy performance, that’s chalked up to the Bard, and since entertainment never goes out of style, it’s guaranteed that it’ll either be laughed off or forgotten by the host. If, however, a bard accepts rooms with a emissary who is on the outs with the Empire, that reflects poorly on the entire Bardic order, and the Empire, consciously or subconsciously, will not forget the betrayal. It will cast suspicion on future Bards, and tighten their purse strings and their drawbridges both. The Bardic Order learned these lessons painfully, over relationships with the old Monarchies for millennia, and these wisdoms are burned deep into the very core of Bardic wisdom. As the Empire rose, it was barely even a test of the Bards skill to ride that current without being sucked into it. So Tone maintains a unique position within the Atrian Empire. It is nominally within the Empire, and there is a small contingent of Empire guards stationed in the town of Tone. There are almost always at least a dozen Empire officials at Tone. The Bards treat them with the utmost respect, and defer to their authority on every matter. There are Empire Bards who live at Tone, and Bards who live in ta’Ot.

It would be a grievous misunderstanding, however, to think that the Bardic Order as an entity supports, or is even complicit with, the Empire. It would never be said out loud that the Bards oppose the Empire, for a wide and obvious host of reasons. On the surface, they are loyal subjects, and the Empire has never had any reason to directly critique the Bards or Tone. But Empire officials one and all feel slightly out of place in Tone, as though they are faking something. And Free Peoples, Kelians and Dwarves, everyone else, somehow feel emphatically welcome in Tone. None of this is anything that could ever be pointed out, and the Empire officials all feel that it is not Tone, but themselves, who is out of place. An apt historian would predict that Tone will outlast both the Empire and ale’Keli as a political entity, but that it may do so by tilting the scales towards ale’Keli until ale’Keli’s existence as a political body becomes irrelevant.

By keeping Tone a writhing political shitstorm at all times, it is guaranteed that every Bard who is trained there is a genuine master at reading rooms. Most Bards can tell at a glance who’s angry, who’s hurt, who’s fucking, who’s planning violence, who’s hiding something, and from whom. Beyond knowing it, they can dance in it. The minor political machinations of ta’Ar are paltry child’s play compared to Tone, an entire civilization of intergenerational Machiavellian webs of influence and deceit. Bards show up at courts, and within minutes they’re laughing to themselves. ‘What, you only have four 10-member councils, and none of them are coming and going, they’re the same councils that were here 100 years ago? I could run this country in my sleep…’

ale’Keli has an interesting reputation in Tone. Because of the Empire’s presence, support is never explicit. Tone is nominally pro-Empire, but is generally understood by the Empire to be purely musical, and therefore neutral. So the Empire knows that Bards come and go from ale’Keli, and does not prohibit this. Kelian politics are seen as an interesting challenge for Bards, and unbeknowenst to the Empire, there is a fair amount of back-and-forth for the Chord and senior bards between Tone and ale’Keli.

Within the writhing political den of incestuous snakes that is Bardic politics, perhaps in part because of this, there’s strong kinship among Bards. They may really hate each other sometimes, but there’s a loyalty to the order and to Tone in general that is unflinching. Any Bard can live at Tone for free, for as long as they like; though it’s seen as poor taste to do this for too long unless you’re actively working. While many Bards hate political intrigue, some deeply love it. Those fall into two camps – those who love it for the drama, and those who love it for the power. Those who love it for the drama often gravitate towards Tone for longer periods of time, since Tone is the only political system complex enough to hold their interest. These are the shit-stirrers. They are rarely trying to get anything accomplished, they just see 

The only council that is outside this fray is the Chord. Notes don’t descend into the maelstrom, basically ever. The Chord governs by two mechanisms. The first is simply asking people do things. Anyone in Tone may get a summons to see a Note, and upon arriving, they will be given a task, which they carry out. The second is by public decree. Very occasionally, Chord will write something up, and post it. These decrees are considered binding to all Bards, and not up for revision or debate. The last decree was 83 years ago, when a new hallucinogenic called Ash was being distributed from Dorst. Bards in general love inebriants, and many have close relationships with hallucinogens. Ash had some long-term side effects and was proving a severe risk to mental stability, and was insidiously addictive, though few really understood this at the time. One morning Chord nailed a decree to the Stableboard and the Overboard stating that Ash was no longer to be used by any Bards. It sparked literally violent outrage, and some Bards left the order over it, saying it was over-reach. Over the subsequent years, most saw the value in the decree. 

The word “Bard” is both profession and title, though many Bards have more of both to spare. To be a “Bard” is to be a member of the Bardic Order, which comes with certain rights and responsibilities. There is a Book of Order, but given the constant factional infighting within the order it is so often modified, reprinted, and annulled that it’s worth little more than tinder. The things that can get you expelled are these:

• Fucking up political relationships with Sponsors and Hosts. This is really the foremost, surefire way to get expelled. Sometimes, if it’s really clear to everyone involved (especially the Sponsor or Host) that it was an honest accident, it results in being degraded to G pin or lower, if you really fuck up. Seeing a Bard with a low C pin is indicative of catastrophic mistake. Hung out to dry, but not expelled. 
• Stealing or intentional damaging the Instrument of another Bard. This is flat-out taboo, and will result in expulsion. 
• Violence across any clear power inequity, especially within the Order. Fighting is fine, beating the shit out of someone is not. While this is generally a physical policy, it will extend to other realms, and has been doing so more in the last few decades. It used to be pretty common for there to be a few social whippingposts in Tone, but that has shifted, slowly. Bards can still be terrifyingly vicious, but if it starts to seem chronically or unduly focused on one person, that has become seen as something like ‘unsporting’ or ‘low,’ though these things are never spoken out loud. 
• Flagrant, sustained disrespect or imposition on the Order. This one is slippery, because much of the political churning is rooted in criticism, and all Bards have critiques of the Order, of course. It’s normal and expected for everyone, including Notes, to sit around griping from time to time, to vociferously condemn things they dislike, and to generally speak their minds. An example of crossing this line: the last Bard to be expelled for this was Kipskeen, a gnome from ta’Ar. Kipskeen was a hobby flutist at home, and had grown up being told how profoundly gifted she was. She spent her Initiation and Apprenticeship frustrated that her Mentor did not see how gifted she was, and complaining vociferously about how stale and bland Tone was, compared to ta’Ar. Upon earning her bars, by the skin of her teeth, she just sort of settled into the same routine. She put her not inconsiderable intellect and charm to work eroding other Bards and initiates respect for Tone, insulting the food, the Peaks, the horses, the Notes, everything she could find. She never traveled, rarely played music, and regularly insinuated and stated outright that Tone was not good enough for her. Initiates started to look doubtful, pride was stating to wane; when Kipskeen walked through a hall, younger Bards who were practicing would loose their nerve. A poison was spreading. Eventually, during a meal in Overtone, she was holding forth about these things, when Qa, who rarely says much in public, and always speaks with a quiet smile,  said in a dead even voice that carried shockingly well for how quiet it was; “Kipskeen, if Tone disturbs you so, I wonder whether you’d be happier elsewhere?” Over the subsequent days, the bottom fell out of Kipskeen’s little network, and she found herself alone. She eventually tried to storm The Gallows during a performance by a Note, and was restrained by the Bridge. Her Bars were stripped, and she was sent on her way.

Finance

Tone is quite rich, or at least always appears to be. While most Bards pay their own way in the world, Bards tithe to Tone, given that it’s their Order Bars that effectively guarantee employment. It’s not uncommon for Bards to be given an allowance from the Treasury, for services being performed which will not result in them being paid. Collecting accounts of recent major events is the common example of this; if there’s a catastrophic shipwreck off Ted, Tone may well fund a Bard’s hasty travel to go record the details and hear fresh firsthand accounts. These accounts are then archived, so that Bards wishing to compose about the wreck can ascertain the details (though they may well choose to embellish or ignore some, having the accurate record is valuable. Some have speculated that the archives of Tone may well be the most accurate in the world, though none would ever know it by how far from even commonly known truth much of the artistry that comes from them is.) Tone will give allowances to Bards doing various tasks, though. These are distinctly not pay; it is a more parental relationship. 

Even in the Empire, Bards are still legal witnesses. While their recounting of historical deeds may be wildly flavored, they take their role as scribes and witnesses to common contracts with unflinching gravity. Despite the ongoing efforts by the Empire to convert all people to the One True Faith and have all contracts witnessed and signed by Atrian Clerics, there are simply not enough to go around, and most events such as weddings and substantial sales are still scribed and witnessed by Bards. The Empire turns a blind eye to this as a matter of necessity, but does not like it. A Bards word on a contract is binding, and to break it would be grounds to have their bars stripped. Beyond that, if a group of people witnessed a Bard openly break their word on contract witnessing, it is likely that the Bard would be grievously injured or killed outright, and few would fault them for doing so.

Political Players at Tone

• Chord
  • Glad – Mílphen. Elf. Queer/non-binary. Voice, Viola. Avid rider, mare named Yeow. Uses humor to keep people relaxed, occasionally off-guard, and to mask razor intellect. Bounces between Doroneth and Tone. Is current Eye. From Doroneth. 
  • Fala – Dwarf. Female. Percussion. (occasionally percussive vocals.) Watchful, excellent listener. Does not appear terribly bright. Bounces between Tone and Groast. From Groast. 
  • Parman – Halfling. Male. Troubadour’s Lute, Voice. Sort of stuck-up, a little cold. Something to prove. Highly ambitions. Almost always at Tone, if not in Tone than in ta’At. From Baeo, and ta’Ar. 
  • Slung – 1/2 Orc, 1/2 human. Male. Clan Drums, Voice. Very slow speech, definitely masks either intellect or lack thereof. Painfully boring to talk to. Often up in Erie or in the lands around Tone. Was Stablemaster for decades, remains Senior Stablehand. From sa’Ar, purportedly. 
  • Kritaiaataansheelia – Gnome. Female. Foot-Organ and Dorish PanFlute. Excitable and loud. Often yelling, usually happily. Very hard to read, unpredictable. Intentions unclear. Assistant Keep, loves planning menus. Travels a great deal, often far.  From ta’Ar royal house. 
  • Qa – (pronounced with the Gnomish pop-whisper ‘kw’-ah.) ½ gnome, ½ halfling (sometimes called Quarterling, being a play on her name and species.) Female. Plays the washtub bass, almost exclusively as backup. Sweep. Observant and very old. Very quiet, tends to speak in either single words or full paragraphs when she speaks at all. Usually at Tone, travels the Torgai. Grew up in Tone, daughter of Sweeps. 
  • Sprink – Fey. Trans? Voice, Bells, Wings. Highly distractible. Quite friendly. Almost always making some small noises, seems sub-conscious. From Torest. 
  • Po – Human. Male Eunuch.  Voice, body percussion. Spent first 34 years in a monastery, before realizing all he really wanted to do was sing. Calm and focused. Seems to have zero ambition. From Terenor.

• Stablemaster – Tailorh, 1/2 Orc, 1/2 Human, female, zero humor, low ambition, wants more money for stable & expansion. Honest.
  • Player Councils
    • Budget Reform
    • Budget Oversight
    • Budget Stability
    • Resource Allocation
    • Development & Preservation
    • Development & Expansion
    • Overtone Menu Planning
  • Player Subordinates
    • Senior Stablehand, Slung (obvious.) 
    • Senior Stablehand Thrush, human male, aggressively ambitious, patient, excellent timing and instinct. Appears fiercely loyal to Tailorh. 

• Director (The Gallows) Avornamdir, Elf, Female. Arch and aloof, terrible vindictive temper and long memory. Constantly playing people and opportunities off one another, claims everything she does is for the “Honor and Sanctity of The Gallows.” Profoundly deceitful, prone to making strong implications and then claiming she was misinterpreted. On many councils, few dare turn her down. Rarely goes to any meeting other than the Ethical Transparency Council meetings, which is the hub of the most vicious, up-to-date gossip.
  • Player Subordinates
    • Fen, elf, male, very beautiful.  Rumored to be Avornamdir’s occasional lover. Often plays ‘good guard’ to her bad. Certainly easier to talk to than Avornamdir, potentially more dangerous. Often the first person Bards approach for scheduling. 
    • Dradj, dwarf, female. Head tech for The Gallows. Answers to both Director and Cavemaster. Very circumspect engineer. Only answers direct questions about the Gallows, deflects basically all other lines of discussion. 
  • Player enemies
    • Hates Slung, who has never seemed to notice her in any way, other than informing her when he will be performing. 
    • Hated by Ruthredir, for unknown reasons amid much speculation. Banned from Archives, which is unheard of between Peaks. 
    • Many, many other, in both directions.

• Cavemaster, (all physical maintenance and development) Gredja, dwarf, female. Usually angry, and in a rush. Annoyed by any and all requests.
  • Player Councils
    • Historical Interpretation
    • Sanitation
    • Bar Innovation
    • Resource Allocation
    • Development & Expansion
    • Privacy and Respect
    • Undertone Exploration

• Sweep, (custodial, housekeeping) Morsha, Oread, female. (Sweep being both the title for the Peak, and the common term for any member of this crew.) Rumored to have come from Undertone, found banging on one of the Doors to Deep by three initiates who got lost exploring, some 550 years ago. She was starving and seemed mad for several years, and the only reason she was kept at Tone was that in her incoherent ramblings she would start spouting poems that literally set the stone walls to ringing and shimmering different colors, or she would burst into song that set hearts aflame, and had strange effects on both light and sound. After a few years, she slowly started moving around, and cleaning her room. The Sweeps were glad for the help, and she seemed good at it, and very dedicated. More than half a millenia later, she is Sweep. Morsha is deeply reclusive, but terrifyingly loyal and defensive of her staff, and of the constant immaculate perfection of cleanliness within all of Tone.
  Morsha has never spoken a word of any known language. It is rumored that some 450 years ago, before she was Sweep, a council called ‘Efficiency’ was rising who wished to cut the Sweep budget by a third. During the joint council meeting where this was being proposed to the Purse, with 5 peaks present, Morsha blew the doors of the room off and started reciting a poem no one understood, but the walls of the cave started to throb in pulsating time with her words, and then gravity waned and started to invert, especially for the young Bard proposing the cut, who was pinned to the ceiling screaming until the Bridgemaster arrived and removed Morsha, which she did not resist. 50 years later she was named Sweep by the Chord. Several similar events have occured in her tenure as Sweep. Once a young noble from ta’Ot was behaving very rudely to a Sweep on Seventh, and eventually turned with a scoff to backhand the young man. Before his blow even began, he was cast up and out of Tide, shattering one of the massive, magically reinforced panes of glass between Tide and Veil, and thrown over Presh into town. He suffered two broken legs, a compacted spine, 6 broken ribs, and a severe concussion. Morsha, whose barked word had clearly done this, was brought up on the Horns and given an explicit and stern talking to. Since she has never given any indication of understanding a word of common or any known language, many were skeptical of this response; but none dared do anything else. She is the only resident of Tone tolerated to have an ongoing, chronic pattern of physical violence against Bards and guests alike. For the last few centuries, there has been a deeper respect of the cleaning and housekeeping staff than has ever existed in Tone, or perhaps anywhere. Additionally, Tone has never been cleaner.
  
  Discounting judicial actions, Morsha has been to four council meetings, ever. Three involved her perpetrating immediate violence against people proposing any kind of minimizing shift to the Sweeps, and once she came to a meeting of a new council called “Voices of the Sea; a Comprehensive Inquiry into the Feasibility and Cost of Aquatic Communication Techniques for the Modern Age,” which was nominally about using fish as messengers, but actually a farce intended to mock another council who were exploring using hawks instead of pigeons to carry small scrolls. No one knew why she was there, and no one knew what to say. The 7 young Bards, who had intended to sit around drinking and mocking the Hawk council, were terrified that she was going to hurt them, and instead ended up spending three hours awkwardly discussing how fish might be made to send messages, while Morsha sat in complete silence and stillness. 
  
  The entire Sweep crew is stoically, indivisibly, absolutely in support of Morsha. Outside of the Sweeps, no one knows if Morsha actually coordinates them the way other Peaks do, and if so how, and no Sweep will say a word about it. The Sweeps have no visible hierarchy, other than Morsha as Peak. Any concern can be brought to the attention of any Sweep, and will be dealt with in a timely and expedient fashion. Different Sweeps come to pertinent council meetings, sometimes the same for a while, sometimes a different Sweep every meeting. They will open their books if asked by a fiscal council who seem legitimate, but their budget is reasonably modent and as consistent as clockwork, so no one ever finds anything to take issue with.
  
  Morsha is rarely seen in Tide these days, but is often seen cleaning the Baths, the Aerie, and around the permanent residences of Overtone. She does attend all of Slung’s rare performances, both on The Gallows and in any scheduled Private performance he might give, no matter how secret. When someone once asked Slung if he had noticed that Morsha attended all his performances, he simply shrugged and said ‘So do I.’

• Archivist, Ruthredir, Elf, male. Holds keys to archive. Tall, formal. Torn between deep belief in accessibility of knowledge with compulsive, soul-consuming overprotection of the Archives. Very steady, even composure. Hypervigilant of who is in the Archives and what they’re doing. Rumored to neither sleep nor die. Extremely old, at least 650, though looks pretty good. A pure wizard, one of the few non-Bards in Tone.
  • Player Subordinates
    • Bel, human, female, ranger/bard. Extremely boring looking, nondescript and immediately forgettable face. Particularly talented retriever and acquirer of interesting texts. Well-connected, well-traveled. From Hag. 
  • Player Councils
    • Acquisitions
    • Cultural Respect and Appreciation
    • Fiscal Opportunities
    • Depositions
    • Trolls

• Bridgemaster, who oversees security and any exercise of force. Zai. Blackcape Vanara. Male. This massive orangutan-like person was a War Studies major at the University, and headed several campaigns for ta’Ot. Dead calm except in combat, he takes the safety of Tone far more seriously than anyone else thinks is remotely necessary. From a tiny settlement just outside ta’Ot in Osren, since destroyed.
  • Player Councils
    • Defense
    • Intervention
    • Cultural Respect and Appreciation
    • Trolls 
    • Special Actions
    • Budget Oversight
    • Chord Support
  • Player Subordates
    • Jain- Half-elf, female, swordmaster. Playful, combative, fickle. Either ambitious or just strange, hard to tell. 
  • Player Enemies
    • Dlea, dwarf, female, assistant Keep, ex-lover, also on CR&A, Trolls, and Budget Oversight. 
• Preceptor, who coordinates instruction of initiates and apprentices. Bowen. ½ human, ¼ Elf, ¼ Tengu. Male. Highly mutable, sometimes seems genuinely quite dim, other times impossibly sharp. Talkative or silent. Eloquent and inspired, or totally incomprehensible and meaningless.
  • Player Councils
    • Overtone Menu Planning
    • Sanitation
    • Initiate Support (this is debatably not a player council, being only Bowen, Hain, and three very old Elders, but it has enough sway among initiate placement that it might rank.)
  • Player Subordinates
    • Assist. Precep. of Admissions Hain. Gnome, Female. From Nort. (obvious) 
  • Bowren and Zai have a close relationship, and at Bowren’s invitation, Zai personally trains Initiates in weapons. In the history of Tone, no Bridgemaster has personally trained the collective Initiates, making it remarkable, if broadly supported. 

• Keep, who runs the kitchens and bars. Holga, halfling, female. Extremely practical, gifted multi-tasker. Claims to be ‘fro’ a long, prou’ line a gifted farm wives.’ Generally pretty even-handed, focused on the many moving parts of her job, but also has a long memory, and doesn’t like ‘tha look’ of certain people, usually elves or particularly skinny people, sometimes others. Conflicted between despising politics and a deep love / natural instinct for haggling; has a dirty-knees approach to council meetings. Thick Torgai accent and vernacular sometimes incomprehensible, seems to leverage this in haggling. Short-game player, but powerful.
  • Player Councils
    • Overtone Menu Planning
    • Tide Food and Drink (Holga rules this council with a heavy fist. The only other long-term member is Note Kritaiaataansheelia. The two of them usually get along.)
    • Resource Allocation
    • Supply
  • Player Subordinates
    • Kritaiaataansheelia, (obvious.) 
    • Ludge, human, male. Ludge is one of the primary buyers of Tone. He has a short list of reliable sources, largely in the Torgai, ta’Ot, Weep, Hag, and Dorest, and he keeps the food and drink coming in. Indispensable is a strong word, but Ludge is good at what he does. 
• Purse, treasurer. Pand Broadbeam, Dwarf, male. Holds the keys to the treasury. Arguably one of the most powerful people in Tone, since any council desiring funds must seem sufficiently authoritative and respectable to Pand in order for the funds to be actually released. There is almost always some faction of councils and people who are furious with Pand, but it’s also recognized as a hot seat, and overall, he is respected and appreciated. His presence on fiscal councils lends a great deal of weight to them. Not a Bard or anything in particular other than a middle-aged Dwarf who holds the purse-strings of Tone. Does enjoy regular extremely loud off-key, staccato, tempo-less whistling; speculated as means of being left alone by Bards, unconfirmed.
  • Player Councils
    • Resource Allocation
    • Budget Oversight
    • Overtone Menu Planning
    • Aerie Garden Planning (this last is largely a garden club at this point in time, but it does contain Peak Bowen and Notes Melethion, Slung, and Qa)
  • Player Subordinates
    • Assistant Purse Liester. Gnome, male. Almost silent, but known to make deals from time to time, always for favor, often unspecified favors in the future. 

• Eye, accountant. Mílphen. (obvious) Does almost nothing in this role, other than regularly review the books. No one has as clear a picture of Tone’s finances as Mílphen. As Note, they could dispense funds in any way they pleased, but they almost never touch money, just keeps an eye on it. Mílphen attends no councils but Chord.
  • Player Subordinate

Assistant Eye Bredj. Dwarf, Female. Apprentice to Mílphen. Relaxed, happy, and calm; very similar composure to Mílphen, none of the stereotypical dwarven gruffness or lack of tact.  Dresses similar as well, in classic formal Bard’s robes. Bredj collects financial records from around Tone. All attempts to bribe, cajole, threaten, or recruit her have so far been met with the same calm, somewhat bemused deflection. She’s clearly practicing Mílphen’s humor, and works to defuse these situations with it. She’s slowly getting better at it. Bredj is the only subordinate of Mílphen

Geography

to’Ren is a planet ~20,000 mi in circumference, orbiting some 93 million mi from a Red Dwarf star. to’Ren spins in a polar solar-synchronous orbit around this star at an angle of 32 degrees, meaning that the rotating point 32 degrees south of the north pole is always facing facing the sun. This means that the north pole is in perpetual daylight, while the south pole is in perpetual night, with a gradient of day-night cycles along the latitude shift. Baeo, for example, gets ~20 hours of daylight to 4 hours of night, while Dorst only sees the sun for a few hours a day. The polar solar-synchronous orbit also results in a total lack of seasons on to’Ren; climates are deeply stable. This contributes to the extreme temperature and environmental differences even over relatively short distances. The north pole, known as the Furn, stays at a balmy 600-800 degrees f. The south pole is a sheet of ice, known as the Everdark. Neither are habitable by most creatures. 

Toven is a desert continent, the sea currents keeping both shores dry and sandy. The inland seas of Alabast and Oosern are hot and salty, defining the southern edge of the Orc territory of ma’Resh, which is a vast un-navigable swampland inhabited almost exclusively by the orcs. Aside from the Orcs, Toven is home to a vast human population, though peoples of every species live there, in differing circumstances. Bearing the brunt of the bitter southern current, Perenor and Terenor are isles of cold, boreal forest, traditionally inhabited by humans. 

Baeo is the traditional homeland of the Halflings. A warm, bright land of rolling foothills, it borders the Boiling Sea on the south, which is notoriously difficult to sail in or out of. The Halflings continue to live in dispersed, small communities, though two large trade centers have emerged which could be called cities; Callaway and Tisane. 

Gorst is the little-known city of the Dwarves. It is widely speculated that the Dwarves have a vast realm under the Bange, but the only part of it that welcomes visitors is the cavernous city it’s self. Flowing from it’s gates, the rivers Kent and Enor flow, Kent to ta’Ar, the Gnomic capitol, and Enor to Deep, a city which is, at it’s heart, a Dwarvish trade outpost. 

Moving south, Gwaroon is a ranging series of hills occupied largely by the gnomes. South of the Dusky Peaks, Doroneth is the homeland of the Elves, a land of towering peaks and steep-walled vallies. South of Doroneth is Draketh, the homeland of the Svartálfar, or Drow. A combination of it’s latitude and the elevation of the peaks of both Doroneth and Draketh make Draketh a dark place, except for the starkly lit peaks themselves. The southern coastline is a sheer cliff face of black stone in shadow some two thousand miles long, rising from sea level up to some 12, 000 ft at it’s center. 

ale’Keli is a ring of islands left over from some meteor strike in the long-forgotten past. Creating a massive lagoon and with the currents broken by a series of walls of coral reef, it is a calm and protected place; warm and beautiful, with dense forests growing around the foothills of the towering peaks. Montessian, or the Cursed Lands, is a wild and largely uninhabited place, with the exception of the guardpost at Nightwatch, which is always lit. The seas of it’s great bay are said to be as cursed as the continent it’s self, and it is not a place sailors will venture. 

Ten is a massive upcropping of jagged black rock, looking to be the same as the material of the Bla’cliffs. The passage between Montessian and Ten is terrifying and the seas south of ten, or “dark of ten,” are calm and easy, but every boat chooses the wild waters north of ten. 

Torest is a vast and ancient woodland. Home to the Druids, Torest is a wild and dangerous place to travel alone. The Torgai Hills are far calmer, home to a blend of Halflings and folks who wish to be off the beaten path, the Torgai are a loose affiliation of artisans and subsistence farmers. 

Technology

The Empire’s power is rooted in their industrialization and mechanization of magic. Through this practice, they have refined and very fast land, sea, and air travel, with limited space-travel capacity. Their vehicles are usually both heavily armored and weaponized. They also have refined broad-spectrum scrying technologies with embedded search spells targeting anti-empire activists. The feed this mass scrying system into remote weapons with intensely accurate targeting systems. These systems are either geographic or individualized. Ranges vary, so within ta’Ot the scrying systems and targeting are overpowering; a sentence of anti-imperial sentiment spoken on the street can lead to immobilization within seconds and subsequent arrest within minutes. Should one be liberated from the immobilization prior to arrest, lethal spells targeting the individuals involved would be almost instantaneous. 

Further afield in the Empire, the spellwork is much less precise. Only repetition over time is likely to generate targeting, and geographic rather than individual targeting is more common. Responses usually take longer, unless individuals are marked and mobile scrycenters are nearby, in which case responses can get very fast indeed. The limited space capacity of the empire is almost entire dedicated to targeted kinetic bombing systems. These systems are entirely contingent on magical tracking and guidance technologies, but with uninterrupted tracking and guidance they have the capacity to cause unimaginable levels of damage. The ruins of ta’Ut speak to this- where once there was the shell of a castle atop a massive pillar of stone several miles high, now there is a volcano-shaped crater about half a mile high by several miles wide. This was the result of an early resistance group organizing there, unwitting of the power of kinetic bombing. The Empire dropped a single 20-ton magically shielded rod of metal from space, which reduced the rebels, castle, and mountain to rubble, and threw the southern part of the continent into a particulate winter for several years, contributing dramatically to the ecological apocalypse. The empire has used much smaller rods to destroy buildings, but never such a dramatic application as ta’Ut. Beyond their destructive capacity, it is widely speculated that the Empire’s space capacity has given them insight into what lies beyond the geographic confines of to’Ren, if not access or contact beyond. This is unconfirmed. 

This has, of course, generated a wide range and concealment and protection magics, which run the gamut from pure chicanery to imperial fakes with embedded trackers to profoundly effective amulets and spellwork. ta’Ar has developed the most sophisticated protections systems, which are both responsive and dynamic. ta’Ar’s fusion systems of gearwork and magic protect the Northwest from kinetic bombing. 

Oceanic Currents

The severity of the polar temperatures creates strong oceanic currents which have serious impacts on the climate. The primary current runs in a circle from the coast of Dorst up the eastern coast of Toven, and across ma’Resh. Then it forks, with one fork spiraling into the Boiling Sea between Baeo and ale’Keli, and the other fork running south on the west side of ale’Keli and Montessian, where is rides the everdark back to Dorst. The icy current flowing up the east coast of Toven steals all moisture from the air, creating a coastal desert almost entirely bereft of water. There is another fork in the current, which runs between Draketh and Dorst, where the cold water flows north up the west coast of Toven, cycles in tol’Anata, and flows south again. Between Tisane and Draketh, there is a current pattern called The Weave, where the cold water from the south rides under the hot water from the north. This 

 The far island of ta’Rt exists in perpetual twilight, lit only by the stars and slow-moving moons. To the North, there is the Bange (mountain range), whose dark heights, perpetually in shadow, have never been measured, but is certainly tens of miles. If one possesses the mountaineering skills to ascend very far, the air quickly becomes unbreathably rare, and there are near-constant thunderstorms. If any have seen the peaks, they’ve not returned to tell of it. Many creatures dwell in Bange, including the dwarves, whose stronghold Rost runs deep under the dark mountains. Further to the east are the aeries of the dragons, and further yet are bands of nomadic trolls. At the eastern edge of the Bange lies ci’Re, a cave which spits forth Rush, the caustic, boiling hot waterway which cleaves to’Ren in half. While vast, the mouth of ci’Re is hot, and only gets hotter as it gets deeper. 

Places

ale’Keli

ale’Keli is the one of two places large places in the habitable world un-conquered by the Empire. A pirate nation for most of to’Ren’s history, ale’Keli was the bane of the Gnomic and Human worlds for millenia. As the Empire rose, more and more refugees and rebels sought out the pirate isles, and it has grown to be a vast and deeply interconnected community of free peoples. 

One of two places protected from the surveillance and threat of the Empire, ale’Keli’s ring of mountains now play host to the most complex system of magical defense ever developed. A combination of Gnomic gearwork, Elvish magic, and Dwarven engineering; there exists a cone of protection rising above ale’Keli that deflects signals, surveillance, and attacks into the surrounding sea. Viewed or attacked from space, ale’Keli does not exist. 

A chaotic and often wildly dramatic place, ale’Keli has evolved into a network of egalitarian councils who direct, govern, and support the peoples who live there. All authority stems from the General Assembly, which is open to all peoples of ale’Keli and happens once a year. The General Assembly grants authority to the sets of councils, through a complex weave of consensus, representation of the Pirates, Most Affected People, and Elders, Security Advisments, and election.

This system is profoundly confusing and frustrating for everyone involved, and is under constant critique and revision. There is constant infighting, backstabbing, power-plays, cronyism, and manipulation of public thought. No one thinks it works well, but it does work and has kept the Isles safe for a millenia. It is also often noted that people’s frustration tends to be generally equal, which is often repeated as a point in favor of the current system, painful and unwieldy as it may be. 

ale’Keli exists in opposition to the Empire. The Empire wants it eradicated, and ale’Keli wants the Empire eradicated. The two are actively at war, though the Empire’s exponential starvation over the last century has removed a lot of pressure that it once exerted on ale’Keli in terms of sheer brute force. The security council’s concern now is less a sea of warships blockading the Isles, and more infiltration, psy ops, and targeted magical attacks. 

Baeo

A brightly-lit, warm arc of rolling foothills, Baeo had the air of existing outside of time. Visitors there found Baeo quite similar to the stories about Baeo from millenia back. Life seemed to change little there. 

Baeo was the first land that the Empire occupied, beyond the traditional human deserts of Toven. In what was later viewed as a test-run, they slowly began increasing their trade presence in Baeo, and then began increasing the pressure they put on Baeo to increase production and organize into “more efficient trade partners.” This process of “increasing trade efficiency” eventually led to the halfling villages being treated as legal entities who were collectively responsible for upholding the increasingly extractive contracts that the Empire claimed they had entered into of their own free will. This eventually led to the empire sending overseers, slowly at first. These overseers were nominally there simply to ensure that the Empire’s trade agreements were being honored, but over time their role became progressively more active, and increasingly militant. For centuries now, every village in Baeo has had both it’s own overseer and also a troop of guards, and while the Halflings are nominally free, the trade agreements that the Empire has put on them have left them either working themselves and their families and land to the bone in order to meet the quotas set by the Empire, or forfeiting their lands to the Empire and working as laborers in order to pay off their debt. At this point the difference appears entirely irrelevant from the outside, though some Halflings give the distinction great importance. 

As the Empire has lost it’s foundational grain supply from Toven, Baeo was the first site to be targeted for increased grain production. Much of the land of Baeo has been converted to crop production, and it is land well-suited to it. The problem for the Empire is this: Bange interrupts overland travel, and the ocean current flows the wrong way. While it is only a short distance from Rowan Bay to Callaway, the oceanic current is pushing eastward, and accelerating, through that stretch. So getting from Toven to Baeo is as easy as setting a paper boat in the water from Tish. Getting back from Baeo to Toven in a boat with any draft requires many long months of fighting the deeply opinionated current, a task few captains are willing to even try, or sailing all the way south around Montessian, effectively circumnavigating the world. 

Compounding this is the fact that as the Empire has begun to lose it’s grip, ma’Resh has been among the first to lose faith. While many Orcs remain in the Empire’s employ and loyal to it, many more were quick to smell blood in the water, and have begun ruthlessly pirating ships in the shallows of ke’Tal. While the current makes transportation quite difficult, the Orcs skip over this problem by launching shallow-keeled skiffs designed only to carry enough Orcs to an empire boat for the Orcs to break the rudder off and run the larger ship aground, where they can pick it apart at their leisure. 

All these factors combined to leave Baeo under the grip of an Empire who lacks the means to exploit them as effectively as they desire. So there are Overseers and guards throughout Baeo, with varying levels of allegiance to the Empire it’s self. Many find themselves sitting on warehouses of grain which is desperately needed in Toven, with little means to get it there. Some take this duty seriously and guard it well, others are more than happy to trade it back to the Halflings who grew it, or the the Gnomes or Dwarves or anyone else with coin. So Baeo has become a not-so-secret black market for cereal grains in the west. 

Doroneth

 is home to the Elves. The city of Tulia  stands tall over the fjord which leads to the peninsula’s heart. It is both trade port and guard tower, and a rich trading city where any who behave respectfully are welcome to come sell, or much more likely buy, from the Elves. Further than the city limits, however, the Restless Watch seldom allowed  any who are not Elf, or at least half-elf, to pass until the semi-conquest of the Empire 340 years ago. The Empire maintains a parallel and superior guard post to the Restless Watch, and a guard house in the capital city of Tuilë. Other than the Empire officials, none but elves are allowed in the capital city, and the presence of the Empire humans is a point of incredible distaste, fury, and resentment for the Elves. The entire coast of the peninsula is wrapped in a ring of what the Elves lovingly refer to as Mist, but everyone else calls “the damn fog” which turns ships away from it’s shores. It’s impossible to sail, row, or swim to the shores of Doroneth. Many test this regularly, and the result is always the same; they sail into the fog, and eventually, they sail out of the fog. There appears to be no land at all, if approached without an elf aboard. 

Draketh

Gwaroon

ta’Ar

 is the Gnomic capitol. Once an unabashedly cheerful, bustling city, it is both a working town, serving as a distribution hub for the goods and services of Gwaroon and Baro, and a popular travel destination for travelers from all over to’Ren. ta’Ar was only conquered by the Empire a fifty years ago, and it is not a peaceful occupation. Genuinely (if sometimes playfully or a little mockingly) friendly, the Gnomes have happily built inns, spas, retreats, and all manner of entertainments to relieve travellers of their coin. Especially in the age of the Empire, it is an aggressively non-judgmental place, and it’s not uncommon to see a full-blood Orc, Drow, or even a poorly-disguised deamon on the streets of ta’Ar. Despite, or perhaps because, of this live-and-let-live attitude, ta’Ar is a very safe city. The self-named “ta’Guard” are a group of ruthless sorcerers, with very low tolerance. Generally they will simply strip wrong-doers down to their undergarments, place a magical ban on re-entry, and deposit them in Shriver, the icy, very fast-moving river which flows into the bay outside the city walls. Since most people come to ta’Ar to trade or relax, this is a strong deterrent. The city is largely defined by Tart, matched pale-blue castles which stand as gatehouses on either side of the massive bridge that spans Shriver, as solid as time. Tart is a perfect match in style to the Keeps in ta’Ot. 

The most at-risk population in ta’Ar is humans. A human in the poorer districts of ta’Ar is a high risk of being kidnapped and ransomed back to their family in the Empire. Muggings and occasional killings are not uncommon. Humans in ta’Ar tend to wear their hood up and keep their heads down. 

There remain four full garrisons of Empire guards in ta’Ar at all times. They keep to themselves for the most part, though they do march patrols and will enforce the empire’s law with brutal ruthlesness if there are any overt expressions of resistance. The Empire’s presence in ta’Ar was much heavier at first, but as their resources have grown scarce, they have had to scale down their occupying forces in the westlands. If anything, this has made the remaining guards more brutal, though at this point their presence is largely a show-of-force to maintain the crippling taxes and trade blockades that the Empire extracts from ta’Ar. The one place the Empire maintains a very active presence is the ports, where all staple crops are property of the Empire, and extrajudicial trade of any staple crops is punishable by summary execution. 

ta’Ar’s iron-haired monarch, Head Grazeer, is a meticulous and regimented woman who never suffers fools and hates to have her time wasted. 

ma’Resh

 is a vast, steaming swamp. While the hot, caustic water from ci’Re largely flow directly into the river Rush, there is seepage all around, and the lands south of ci’Re are all soggy and changing. From ci’Re and Bange, the water creeps through the steaming wetlands of ma’Resh, and eventually coalesces into the rivers of Ink and Roe, and the inland sea of Oosern. The Orcs don’t seem to mind the steam, and visitors are always welcome, though few ever return. 

The empire maintains posts around ma’Resh, but not really in it. The Orcs and the Empire have had an odd relationship. Rumor goes that the first Orcs to take the flame (wear the gold-red uniform of the empire) simply killed some guards and stole their clothes to try and justify further robberies. Regardless of the veracity of that tale, in the centuries since some Orcs have become multi-generational families of Empire guards, and take their role very seriously. The Empire has used them brutally, and some of the Orcs take this a sign of strength and take honor in being sent to die fighting Trolls or hunt down rebel groups. 

Most of the Orcs remain ambivalent towards the Empire at most. It is unclear whether they pay the levy taxes, but most suspect that they do not, given how uproariously most Orc villages will laugh if anyone asks them. 

Osren

is the thin stretch of sharp foothills north of the river Rush, running from ci’Re to the Spine. It is a region dominated almost exclusively by nomadic Trolls, who alternate between a strong dislike and a strong taste for visitors, neither of which travelers are likely to survive. There is rumored to be an old mine there.

Osren, and in particular the Trolls who live there, is the reason for the heavily armed watch on the northern side of ta’Ot.

Rush

Spraying forth from the broiler-pit of ci’Re, Rush is a torrential, boiling-hot deluge of rushing, caustic water. It flows from ci’Re at almost 300f, down into Loon at 125f, from whence it drains primarily through Tanner into the Shoals. There are two bridges on Rush: upstream, Gige is a hewn log deck, which trolls often occupy, sometimes to demand a toll, sometimes to nab a quick meal (‘toll’ is actually a contraction of ‘troll’ in the common tongue.) Further south is the bridge at Tanner, which is large, free, and relatively safe.

Montessian

Toven

Toven is the largest land mass of to’Ren, but it is largely arid desert. While there used to be substantial grain production both on the eastern coast and inland and some extensive forests on the eastern seaboard, extractive farming methodologies have stripped the hard-earned topsoil and resulted in a rapid desertification of the remaining arable lands. Today, there are vast forests of dusty, dead trees lining the King’s Highway. A hundred years ago, the great lazy rivers of Ish, Talor, and Tont were the hearts of verdant, gentle river valleys, surrounded by green and farmlands. Today, they are sallow, dusky sludgeways, creeping towards the sea too slowly to cleanse themselves.  is a vast desert, with little appeal. Hellscap stands twenty miles north of Lu’or, a miles-tall volcano-crater of sand and glass fragments forged in the bombing. There are myths of the upcropping before the bombing- it is said that the Broken Falls were a wonder to see, dropping nearly ten thousand feet from Djer, the pool halfway down. Now there is a pool at the bottom of the crater that seeps through the particulate sidewall into a festering swamp. It is said that the towers of ta’Ut dwarfed those at ta’Ot, and the elegant and arrow-straight Foad prove that once there was something worth seeing here, but there are few travelers now. 

Despite being further from the Sun than ma’Resh, Toven is also further from Bange, and so it is far hotter, and drier. 

There are stories, both old and new, of a Phoenix in the far reaches of Toven. Sometimes desperate souls seek her out, and sometimes they find her. Those who claim to have all say that she gave them what they needed. These stories are common, but if you follow them it seems as though only a slim handful have actually met this Phoenix in recent centuries, and those few tales simply spread- like fire. 

Chice

 is a series of massive hewn ice blocks, each 2,777 ft square and resting with one face flush with the ground, in a chain approximately halfway between sa’Ar and Tish. They don’t melt, and they’re painfully cold, though further east they make very tempting campsites to escape the heat. Occasionally giants use them for the same purpose, so despite their comfort, they’re often eschewed by travellers. The last Queen of ta’Ot, Naidier Olesant, was fascinated by them, and had one excavated just over a thousand years ago. Despite the slight variance of the hewing, it turned out to be a perfect cube. When she was forced into exile by the coup, the mine was abandoned. Some say her insistence that the terminal block be excavated sparked the coup, being seen by the military as a frivolous waste of resources. 

Hellscap

Once, Hellscap was a vast upcropping of sandstone, rising from the desert some three miles to it’s plateau, where sat a vast castle ruin of ta’Ut. A few hundred years ago, a group of peoples began organizing there in resistance to the Empire. It’s elevation and distant but central location made it a perfect location to operate from. For almost a decade, their movement grew, and a large community developed there. 

Then, one day, a beam of light from the sky hit it, and the entire mountain was reduced to a smoking crater in the ground, several miles across. The impact picked up millions of tons of sand, which covered central and southern Toven in darkness and dust for almost a year. It is said that this is when the apocalyptic ecological collapse really began in full. 

Eventually, the Empire revealed that it had dropped a shielded metal rod onto the resistance center from space, the kinetic energy causing a scale and scope of destruction that had never before been witnessed in to’Ren. Since then, the Empire has proved their point by “rodding” several buildings with much, much smaller projectiles, when they become hubs of anti-Empire sentiment or action. 

Osren

is the thin stretch of sharp foothills running from ci’Re to ta’Ot. It is a region dominated almost exclusively by nomadic Trolls, who alternate between a strong dislike and a strong taste for visitors, neither of travelers are likely to survive. There is rumored to be an old mine there.

Osren, and in particular the Trolls who live there, is the reason for the heavily armed watch on the northern side of ta’Ot.

Tae & sa’Ar

Until the Canal was built two hundred years ago, Tae functioned as the only working port of ta’Ot, being the nearest deepwater access. Today, it remains a vibrant port city, though somewhat tempered by the Canal access to ke’Tal in the east. The trade access is well-guarded, but Tae has been impacted more visibly by the lack than ta’Ot. Tae is still dressed well, but it’s starting to fray at the seams a little. 

sa’Ar, the old city inland of Tae, was a dangerous ghost town with a rich black market in all sorts of illicit goods and services even before the age of the empire. Now, it is still a dangerous backmarket with a crime rate higher than it’s temperature, but there is an air of rebellion there that is hard to put your finger on. This may be in part because of how notoriously hard it is to staff, for the Empire. There are two guard houses in sa’Ar, and both spent the first 800 years of the empire hosting a rotating cast of guards who would eventually be bribed into complicity and replaced. Two hundred years ago, the Zealots intervened and staff both guard houses directly now, with brutal Knights totally devoid of forgiveness. Unfortunately, sa’Ar is a sprawling old mess of a city, and there is no way to patrol enough to actually contain the nature of the local economies. The result is a thriving and vibrant city with floating points of absolute, pristine silence around the Zealot patrols.  To walk through with a Knight, it is as though the entire city is abandoned, but deeply haunted by the sounds of bustle and trade just out of earshot. A little dust hangs in the air, but there is no one there at all. 

The Old Road which runs through sa’Ar is just as dangerous as the old city, and travelers who value their purses and their lives all take the New Road through Tae. 

ta’Ot

ta’Ot is the largest city in to’Ren, and  the heart of the Empire. It is an emphatically, almost aggressively human city. While there are non-humans there to be sure, their presence is always noteworthy, either for their subservience or their novelty. Many non-humans in ta’Ot bear the marks of slavery, subtle or overt. Non-humans are in fact common in the city, but within very strict social roles, specifically service. It is ruled entirely by the Emperor/Empire. 

Looking west from the city, one can see the towering peaks of Spine in the far distance. Alabast, the inland sea that ta’Ot defines the eastern edge of, stretches away to the west, offering stunning sunsets. The Keeps are twin pale-blue two-towered castles which sit as bridgehouses on either side of the massive stone bridge spanning the small river Aert where it flows into Alabast. 

Surveillance within ta’Ot is the most aggressive in the Empire. It is a dangerous place to speak a word against the Empire, and some say that the Empire has developed tracking methodologies for local warding spells, though this is thus-far unconfirmed. 

The Torgai Hills

 are a long stretch of foothills, tucked between the Spine and Bange. Sometimes softly rolling, sometimes unexpectedly cavernous, the Torgai keep a traveler on their toes. Rising up from Torest and flowing down from Spine, the Torgai often see all sorts of creatures, some more welcome than others. For millennia, the Guild town of ca’Er crafts some of the finest tools, weapons, and artisanal goods in to’Ren. The Torgai are full of forgotten villages, barrows, hermits, wells, cairns, and any number of other things that the rest of the world has left behind. 

For most of to’Ren’s history, there was no pass in the Spine, so the 40 miles between the northern Torgai and ta’Ot might as well be 2,000. Since the Empire developed effective air travel, it began colonizing the Torgai. Three hundred years ago, the Empire surveyed and blasted a workable, if terrible, pass through the Spine. Since then, the colonization has been far more aggressive, and ramped up in direct response to the ecological calamity known as the Lack. 

If you were to ask the Empire, they would say that they tax the Torgai to cover the costs of their safety. If you were to ask the halflings and other denizens of that once-lush set of hills, they would say that they are enslaved to the Empire. Certainly walking through now it does not have the feel that it once did- there is little fine craft now, just rote production of the materials demanded by the empire, from every industry present. The large push though is for grain. The empire is starving to death, day by day, and the Torgai are their only current source of grain. So every month, fields and whole towns are being set to the torch and converted to an endless sea of grain, which trickles up and through the Spine at a snails’ speed through the bottleneck of those mountains that do not wish to let anything through, much to the growing fury of the Emperor. 

The people of the Torgai are mostly halflings, and all somewhere between despondent and absolutely furious. 

Torest

 is home to many things. The trees there are old, and quite lively. The animals, for whatever reason, have become very large, and sometimes have a queer look about them. It’s also where the Druids tend to come and go from. It’s rumored they have some kind of community out there. Of course many are Dwarves, and the others often travel with Dwarves. The Dwarves and the Druids have been thick as thieves since time began, which many think is odd since Druids claim to love nature, and all the Dwarves do is mine. 

The Empire has been looking the the Druid community for as long as the Empire has existed, but has had no luck. Torest is about half of the reason the Empire has not taken over all of to’Ren. The military and magical barriers maintained by the free people of to’Ren would never be enough, on their own, if the Empire could simply walk through Torest. But the old forest does not like the Empire; that is clear to everyone except the Empire it’s self, who insist that it is entirely the traitorous Druids. 

Goerthaid, The

The Goerthaid is something of a mystery. It’s a perpetually misty stretch of land between the southern edge of the Torgai and Torest. Like the Torgai, it is soft, rolling hills, but unlike the Torgai they are not lit and green. The hills of the Goerthaid are steeped in perpetual mist, and interwoven by stagnant swamps, ranging from a few inches deep to quagmires easily capable of swallowing a team of draft horses. The hills themselves are often hollow, and contain some tombs. Some of the tombs contain treasure, though it’s common wisdom to let it lie. Many of the tombs contain wraiths and various other creatures who prefer to keep their own company.

Groast

Groast is the Dwarven stronghold, which runs deep under Bange. Some say the Dwarves have tunneled all the way through, to what end, who can say? If they have, they keep it to themselves. In times past, the First Door of Groast was always open, and the first tier is open to all, especially those of heavy purse. In the age of the Empire, the first door is heavily guarded and closed. The Second Door is open to honored guests and allies, and leads to the court, including the throne room. The throne, which is called “The Broken Throne” though it appears entirely whole, is a half-hewn, half-grown seat which is embedded into the trunk of a massive tree, and is always flanked by both dwarf and Druid honor guard.  There is a Third Door of Groast, which is closed. 

Kroi

is an Orcic community in the Torgai. It’s inhabited almost exclusively by Orcs, who are making an effort to live a different lifestyle than those in ma’Resh. They nominally welcome visitors, though it is common wisdom to blow a loud horn several times before approaching the village. The reason for this is that recent immigrant Orcs often lack the self-discipline to refrain from attacking strangers entering their community, and the horn gives them a chance to restrain themselves, usually by chaining themselves to trees, so that visitors are safe. This means that upon entering Kroi, there are usually several full-blood male Orcs raging against their chains to attack visitors.

Tone

Tone is a massive Bardic center which is perhaps best described as equal parts Archive, Training Facility, Stronghold, Cultural Hub, Performance Center and, of course, Bar. It has perhaps the most complex and confusing relationship with the Empire of any place in to’Ren, but in order to understand that you must first know a little bit about it. Approaching Tone, one must first pass through the small town of the same name, but even from a distance one can see the great waterfall Veil falling some 2,500ft down a granite cliff on the west side of the Spine mountains. Being on the west, this cliff face is shadowed, but through some magic, be it Bardic or other, Veil shines as though in full sunlight at all times, making it a vibrant ribbon down a dark wall. The bridge which leads to Tone runs straight into the waterfall, which is noisy and wet, but upon passing through Veil, visitors find themselves immediately as dry as they were before, and all sound of both river and waterfall entirely silenced. The effect is quite striking. Tone it’s-self is a warren of massive, lavishly decorated caves, many of which have windows facing Veil, making it a brightly lit, clean-feeling space. The largest cave is one story above the entrance, and is a semi-circular amphitheater centered around the most advanced stage in the known world, both magically and technically. The amphitheater is called Tide, and the stage known as The Gallows.

Tide seats some 450 people, give or take, and The Gallows is 20 x 40 ft exactly, overlooking a pit which is used for an orchestra, mosh, political machinations, formal dining, and whatever else it need be. The highest points of Tide are against the Veil, with The Gallows nested deep into the Spine, creating exceptional lighting which is augmented by a series of lenses and mirrors which allow for countless dramatic effects to be focused on The Gallows.

To non-bards, it’s thought of primarily as an incredibly entertaining place to hang out; think concert/cabaret/massive upscale tavern/inn all rolled into one. People travel long distances to see it and hang out there. There’s round-the-clock performances and entertainment, and despite this, it’s considered a great honor to perform there. Travelers regularly get sort of lost there, they go to check it out and stumble out several weeks later, broke and deliriously confused, but despite this none of them ever have a word to say against the place. 

Drinks, food, rooms, and company are all available in Tone, though the ticket prices are somewhat shocking. Drinks start at a silver, and go up steeply. This makes travelers all the more grateful when bards offer them ‘a nod’ to the bartenders, or Bridge (the security bards) pass out tokens for free drinks. As it turns out, the coinage of Tone is not gold, but information, story, and song. A decent storyteller will never pay for a drink. A good storyteller will receive free room and board, for as long as their supply of truly good stories continues. Should they start rehashing, or spinning tired yarn, they’ll likely start receiving bills, which slowly increase over time. Like or not, they will also find their tales rapidly converted into lays and poems, and being bandied about the Gallows. If the names are interesting, they’ll likely remain unchanged, so it’s wise not to run your tongue about private affairs in Tone.

Tone is governed by a council known as The Chord, who are anonymous outside of Bardic initiates.

The Empire sees it’s self as the center of all culture. As such, it supports cultural endeavors such as the arts. Tone’s reputation is the best in the world, the Bardic Order has set the standard of performance since before history was written. So the Empire needs Tone in order to maintain it’s own self-image, it has to integrate Tone into it’s self. Tone does not need the Empire, but it also doesn’t want to be wholly destroyed and replaced by a Bardic Order that is just a puppet of the Empire, so it plays along.

There are always Empire officials in Tone. There are bards from the Empire who perform there. While the Empire maintains that ta’Ot is the cultural seat and Tone a mere “cultural center,” Tone feels like the cultural hub of the universe, including the Empire. 

The Empire officials and bards who play at Tone all insist that they are having the time of their lives, and that they couldn’t be happier, that everything is exactly as it should be. And every single one of them is lying. They all feel out-of-place. They feel that the servers don’t pay attention to them as quickly as other guests. And there is never a single thing that they can point their fingers to. The Bardic Order treats them with the utmost honor and respect. Their performances are generally very well-received, perhaps even better received than those by other bards. The other bards tend to celebrate and make the Empire officials the center of the party; they never feel ostracized or shunned in any way. But they never, ever feel quite comfortable in their own skin there. They all feel like outsiders, pretending to be bards.