Escape the island of eldritch lust pdf download

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Related Booklists. Rupert Spira , John J. The Great Library of Akrane truly lives up to its name. Akrane is the greatest city in the kingdom of Heimsvak, the most powerful nation of the known world, and the library is a testament to this power and wealth.

Huge, robed statues of the fourteen divinities look down over the reading chapel and its wide tables and leather-backed chairs. Following the elderly keeper through this monument of knowledge reminds you of your small place in history. The access Grazmer grants you to the forbidden books, by contrast, reminds you that your family plays an oversized role in a darker and secret history: the history of monsters.

There are all sorts in the city. Even with Candlefest upon us. As you leave the library, escape the island of eldritch lust pdf download , your thoughts return to that pang of sadness you experienced when you imagined what your mother might do to the old keeper.

It has been many months since you have heard from her. She is a monster huntress and her profession takes her far away, traveling and only resting to recover from injuries, but never before has it been so long between letters or visits.

It has been almost as long since you have heard from your sister, Kara, but that is not unusual. She is a huntress like your mother and even more solitary. You sigh and adjust the weight of the satchel containing your notes and your family codex of monst ers, maintained and expanded for over ten generations. Now you are a scholar, a glorified keeper of the family wisdom, escape the island of eldritch lust pdf download , too plump and soft to ever be a huntress like Kara and your mother.

The cobbled streets and shops still bustle around you with nocturnal life in Akrane. You hear laughter and voices. You see the glowing candles of the winter Candlefest in the windows of houses and apartments as you trudge past. There is the alchemy college of St. Seffreen and there is the Grand Temple of Lasha, the healer.

All these people, coming and going, laughing as they share pastries or mulled wine, all blissfully unaware of the many evils that lurk in the shadows.

You arrive at the tenement where you pay your rent and climb up to the fourth floor, past the sounds of crying children and couples fighting, fucking, or maybe both. You share your cramped apartment with Velora. As you unlock the door, you see that the curtain is drawn across her half of the space, indicating she has a customer. You trudge over to your small bed and your modest heirlooms and set your satchel on your study table. It is the only piece of furniture you own besides the bed.

The table is stained with ink and the many candles have melted together into a single mass frozen in mid-melt over the back of the table and onto the floor.

You use one of the few magical spells you can reliably cast and conjure a flame from your fingertips. You spread the tiny fire to the wicks of the candles, escape the island of eldritch lust pdf download.

As the glow of their light spreads, you notice by their glow that a long package and a battered envelope have been propped against the foot of the table. You hear the rack of the divider curtain opening a little and quickly snap the magic flames away from your fingers. Velora, face painted, lipstick smeared, pokes her head through the curtain, but draws it tight around her neck. Something urgent, I reckon. She ducks her head back through the curtain and you hear the murmur of her say something escape the island of eldritch lust pdf download her customer.

Her head comes back through. To make matters worse, the technology that sustains Tarkath is beginning to break down. Much of this technology is vital to keeping the Tors operating in the wastelands and over time, the knowledge of how to maintain and build it has been lost.

This would force a great diaspora and the people of Tarkath would have to find a new home, either in the North or another region yet to be revealed. The seat of power in Tarkath lies within the ancient Tor known only as Dragonspire. Rising from the surrounding wastes that surround it like a gleaming spike of pure white, it is the tallest architectural structure in Arnesse.

Its exact age is unknown, but the the spire has existed since Tarkath was settled a millenia ago. Near the top of the tower sits a massive stone dias, upon which rests the legendary Dragon Throne, a mighty seat carved from the bones of the ancient wyrms that served beneath it.

Beneath the Throne rests a smaller seat carved from bone that is reserved for the Steward of the Throne. It has been almost two centuries since a Tarkathi sovereign has sat on the Dragon Throne. The Lord Paragons of Tarkath rule the land in the place of a monarch. By law the King of Arnesse has a claim to sit on the Throne, but no northern ruler has ever dared travel to Dragonspire.

House Aragon of Dragonspire has ruled Tarkath for almost four centuries and they have done so with a mix of politics, violence, and guile. Despite rumors to the contrary, the Aragons are known to be one of the most honorable and just families in all Arnesse. Those who see only their misdeeds and give credence to rumors fail to see that in Tarkath, to show weakness is to invite death.

While the methods they employ appear harsh to outsiders, they are more survival mechanisms than genuine malice. Were it not for those methods, the more militant houses of the south would be in a near constant state of war with the north. To this end, the Aragon rulers go to great lengths to project an aura of strength whenever possible.

Since then, it has grown into the second largest trade city in Arnesse. A little over a decade ago, Taliesin was run by House Pyon, a vassal to the Aragon family. The Pyon family was removed from power and fled the city. In the last decade, Taliesin has begun to flower once again as Lady Emmeline has opened the gates of the Golden City to foreign traders, visitors, and investors. Foreign goods flow into the city in amounts never before seen and as a result, have made the Aragons very wealthy.

The Black Market, though hidden, has an extremely strong presence in this city given the thriving drug trade. Many foreign visitors specifically make a pilgrimage to Taliesin to acquire goods and services that are hard to obtain or illegal in other markets.

If there is a center of spiritualism in the South, it is Tor Sirat. They are the keepers of Karna, the necropolis that is the final destination of those who are judged worthy by the scales of Kephrix.

Tor Sirat sits on a massive rise near the end of the Khyber River and has very little in the way of martial defenses; all who make it this far into the wastes are welcomed. This is a city that knows little prejudice. All are equals who come to Tor Sirat in peace. Here, there are no grand palaces or sweeping spires, all things left simple so that its residents might come to focus on what lies beyond the realm of the physical.

The residents of the city seek to create sacred spaces wherein visitors and residents can pray, meditate, and exchange ideas with others. She is a fair minded and wise noble who has done much to grow the Tor over her two decades as ruler. As part of her quest for enlightenment, Lady Nessa has taken a Vow of Sanctity, swearing to take no lover or spouse and eschewing many pleasures of the physical world. Tor Sirat is open to any who can survive the journey to reach it. It is not uncommon for those seeking enlightenment to travel there on pilgrimage and quite a few choose to stay, joining the ranks of the Ysai, or the Heavensworn, who serve as attendants, guides, and guards.

While few can contest that strange, even inexplicable visions when visiting Tor Sirat, skeptics are quick to blame shifting winds carrying hallucinogenic gases bubbling up from great crevasses in the Valley of Vapors to the south. If there is a veiled sister to Tor Sirat, it is Tor Obolus. At the end of the River Tethys lies a series of great rents in the earth that lead into a complex network of tunnels, caves, and caverns that are collectively known as Tor Obolus.

Night and day, the burning fires within the tunnels cause a pitch-black smoke to pour out of the crevasses into the sky, darkening it for miles in each direction. Whereas Tor Sirat is about spiritualism and ascension, Tor Obolus is about revelation and the acquisition of power, no matter the cost. In all of Tarkath, only House Durant has a greater focus on its military and matters of war. The Aragons of Tor Obolus also have a keen interest in mysticism, welcoming oracles and other spiritualists, a practice uncommon among other High Houses of Tarkath.

The Sisterhood of the Fayne Moirai are often shunned from many southern courts, but are welcomed in Tor Obolus. Lord Ormund Aragon is the ruler of Tor Obolus and if there is a creature that does not fit the mold of a House Aragon noble, it is him. He is known to be vicious, petty, and cruel. What transpires within the depths of Tor Obolus is unknown by most, but it is said that the living can go there to be cleansed of their dark transgressions. Those who seek redemption are said to make a pilgrimage to Tor Obolus and there, the Lords of the Underworld will seek to purge them of their pain, their guilt, and their wickedness.

It is said that some who undertake the pilgrimage never return, though there are doubly as may stories as to why as there are storytellers. The nobles of Tor Obolus are also known for keeping the rare and deadly basilisk as a pet. Tor Obolus a feared place for most Tarkathi and stories of what is rumored to go on within its depths are fodder for tales meant to frighten children into behaving themselves.

An ancient Tarkathi proverb says that in life or in death, the wicked will find that all roads lead them to the Underworld.

House Durant never got over the wound left by the death of their allies. Some Tarkathi turned to drugs and vice to stem their deep-seeded depression, but the Durants have only filled that void with rage and anger. House Durant vowed a Shere, or blood oath, to seek revenge for the death of the dragons and to see Tarkath restored to the Dragon Throne. They will not rest until this is done. Their warriors are among the finest in all of Tarkath and they are also specialists in fighting within the wastes.

This makes them deadly to any force that wishes to invade the south. House Durant controls one of the largest armies among the noble families in Tarkath, second only to House Aragon. As a stop on the road between Taliesin and Tor Oman, the city sees a large amount of trade passing through every day.

Crossing the desolation of the Field of Bones is the first test anyone faces when they enter Tarkath. The ground before them is littered with those who were unprepared. Lady Mylena is a good ruler to the native Tarkathi and she is well loved by her people. Like her twin brother Nebzer Durant, husband of the Lady Paragon Lyra, she is a master with a weapon and is considered one of the most formidible fighters in Tarkath.

This impressive Tor is notable for its numerous towers. Almost as tall is the Ashen Tower, home of the Apotheca. Many think the Apotheon is the true home of the Apoethca, but many Magisters know that place to be the Ashen Tower. The other towers of Tor Oman are home to lesser nobles, and those of wealth. The residents learned early on that with the frequent winds, the noxious, hallucinogenic gas from the Valley of Vapors would find their way into the Tor.

Those who did not wish to be subjected to its effects built their homes above it. It is this that has earned Tor Oman the moniker, the City of the Dead. During the times when the mists are not present in the city, the residents who are regularly exposed seek refuge in drug dens within the city known as Dream Houses, where they can acquire mind-altering substances to hold them over until once again the fel winds find their way back to the city.

He is an old man and in failing health, having ruled the Tor for the better part of thirty years. His wife died long ago and two of his sons joined the Apotheca.

Increasingly, Edgar has taken the reigns of rulership from his father and Tor Oman is no better for it. Life within Tor Oman is very hard for those without wealth or position. Many who make this place their home are trapped by some combination of addiction and no ability or coin to escape the city. Because of this, many commonfolk in Tor Oman are treated little better than slaves.

They are often used in work camps or other types of physical labor and paid very little, often in drugs. Tor Emon sits astride the River Emon in eastern Tarkath. In this desolate land, Tor Emon is a treasure beyond gold or gems; arable land can support agriculture. Long ago, great feats of civil engineering bifurcated the River Emon and created an island between the two waterways. A combination of irrigation systems and dams allowed the Tarkathi to control the level of the water and actually flood the island, washing away much of the poison and ash and replacing it with fertile mud.

It was on this island that they were then able to plant crops. The harvests were poor at first but with the long growing seasons in the South and man years of hard work, they grew bountiful.

Today, the farmlands of Tor Emon have grown beyond the island and extend twenty miles or more to the north and south of the city. While their yield is far from enough to feed all the people of Tarkath, some feel that it the start of the revitalization of the wastes. Tor Emon is almost a world apart from the rest of Tarkath. It is green and lush in a place where the land is all but withered and dead. Sprawling across the upper terraces of the Tor is the Arboretum, a massive garden that spans three levels of the city.

It is said to be one of the finest gardens in all of the Kingdom, filled with rare plants once native to Tarkath but are now all but extinct in Arnesse.

Tor Emon sits astride the River Emon, which is a way that an invader could use to travel deeper into the wastes. To prevent this, the Vorels have built a number of dams and cataracts they can use to either make the river more treacherous to travel or blockade it entirely. The River Emon actually divides the Tor into two halves, running through a deep chasm that it carved between two massive spires.

Most of the residents of Tor Emon live on one side while the other is for working, storage, or shopping. The Tor contains several markets and visitors come to Tor Emon from all over Tarkath to acquire fresh produce and livestock.

From the spires of Tor Emon one could easily see a blackened, blighted land spread out to the east and into the shadowy Espar Mountains. This is the fabled Dead Kingdom. Here the living dare not go and expect to return. Whatever tale holds the truth about what is here, it is powerful and evil. A truce was reached and was sealed with the marriage of an Aragon nobleman to a Rourke lady.

Tyranthis occupies a prime position on the Emon delta and has a fine deep-water harbor which makes it a port of call for large shipping vessels. Tyranthis is a bustling port city that bears the marks of Aragon and Rourke influence. White stone manors with beautiful, swept roofs stand next to ramshackle wooden buildings that sit at slightly odd angles due to their poor and hasty craftsmanship.

Whatever planning had gone into the layout of the city has been abandoned in the two centuries since House Vaith took power. The city streets now are twisted, dark, and confusing to navigate, leaving many who are unfamiliar with them lost in one of its many bad neighborhoods. Tyranthis is a frequent destination for those who seek passage deeper into Tarkath.

If one wishes to travel into the wastes, this is one of the best places to find a guide. They pray upon the unwary and will very likely leave them stranded on a riverbank after making off with their valuables.

He is equally as ruthless in politics as he was on the water. Life in Tyranthis can be dangerous and difficult, but also extremely lucrative if one is willing to take some risks. Tyranthis calls itself a city but operates more like a Rourke freeport. Lord Vaith does not pay much attention to the daily affairs of the city and laws of any sort are only enforced when it suits him to do so.

Those who are strong, cunning, and entrepreneurial can do very well for themselves, but death is only a turn down the wrong alley for someone who is careless or makes the wrong enemies.

If the dangers of the city are not enough, just beyond its walls is Deathlight Swamp, said to be one of the most haunted and forsaken landscapes in all Arnesse. While passage through the swamp by boat is reliable enough, those who enter on foot are rarely seen again, said to be lured to their deaths by phantom lights. Unlike other lands, Tarkath is very removed from the culture of the north and as a result has been able to keep some of its rites, festivals, and practices fairly intact.

Though these are still practiced, they are by no means accepted or recognized by the monarchy or by most northern societies. Most of these practices are seen as primitive and barbaric by the rest of Arnesse.

Because of concerns over being accused of witchcraft, Tarkathi who practices these does so with some amount of discretion, far away from the eyes of outsiders. This rite of passage was once a requirement for all those coming of age in Tarkath but in the modern has become less and less common.

When a young person reaches the age of eighteen, they travel into the wastes with minimal supplies for eighteen days, one for each year they have lived. Those who survive earn the right to undergo the Saar ritual, in which they are blooded and given a Saarkat, or a blood name.

While it is rare today, many would-be warriors still seek to perform the Khomdal as a sign of strength, spending a good portion of their teenage years preparing themselves for the trial. It is said that one cannot become a member of the Blood of Ezjdar or rule Tarkath without undergoing the Khomdal.

While some Tarkathi choose to be married in the northern tradition, others choose to undertake the Amshere, or the blood union. While the ritual shares many of the similarities to other marriage traditions, it is often recited entirely in High Tarkan. It is not uncommon for there to be a combat between the bride and the groom in advance of any exchange of vows. The winner has the right to refuse the loser if they feel they did not fight well. The fight can be merely ritual but is just as often lethal.

The ritual itself involves mixing and drinking of the blood of the bride and groom followed by a series of complicated oaths. The bride and groom then have High Tarkan runes scarred into their flesh to seal the marriage. Also known as the Feast of the New Cycle and is a day that all Tarkathi celebrate a new year.

On the first day of Djet, a blessing is said to welcome in the next twelve lunar phases followed by several days of drinking, dancing, and feasting. This festival celebrates the cycle of rebirth, life and death, with thanks being given to the previous twelve moon cycles and blessings offered for the of moon cycles to come. This is often a day when major events and people from the last moon cycles are publicly honored and remembered by loved ones.

This is known as the Day of the Dragons, when Tarkathi remember their fallen comrades and honor them with gifts and prayers. Duat is a day of great sadness and is marked by ritualistic drug use, stories of the days past, and martial battles to decide whom is the worthiest in the eyes of the Semut, or the Dragon Spirits.

All people are expected to donate gifts within their means that will be loaded into a caravan and sent south, to the necropolis of Septhis, the Dragon Tombs. The victors in the tournaments are given the special honor of escorting the caravan to Septhis.

There, special offerings are made to the fallen dragons and the gifts are secured in their tombs. This caravan has led to rumors of incredible wealth within Septhis. Known as the Feast of Plenty, this is held in the high months of Summer and is meant to commemorate the founding of the Tors amid the wastes of Tarkath. Leading up to Shabati, many in Tarkath will fast for up to two weeks, drinking only water and eating very little food.

Shabati marks the breaking of the fast and what follows is three days of feasting and drinking. The fast is broken by a lone rider who represents Arric the Argent, the hero of legend who founded Dragonspire, entering the city bearing a container of water, brought from another city in Tarkath.

In a ritual known as the Rite of Waters, that liquid is mixed with the well at the heart of the Tor and thus, are the people reminded that all Tarkathi are of one people and that they will live or die as one people.

The Feast of Plenty is a time well known for forgiveness and healing, when disputes and grudges are settled and set aside. The mythic realm of Hekat is said to be a place of primal beauty, brimming with life and positive energy.

The Festival of Hekat is a celebration of life and all its pleasures that takes place in the fourth moon cycle of a year. During this multiday event, men and women who have newly come of age are honored with drinking, dancing, and drugs. The handsomest man and most beautiful woman are crowned the King and Queen of Hekat and treated with special honor.

Those who have come of age are encouraged to indulge all their senses and give themselves over to the pleasures of the flesh. This holiday is a highly sexual event and couplings of all manner are common between a variety of partners.

It is this festival more than any other that is celebrated in the south that has given Tarkath a reputation as a land of promiscuity and debauchery. The mythical realm of Udjat is said to be a great labyrinth filled with shadows and eternal darkness. During the weeklong festival of Udjat, people gather and make pilgrimages to the tombs of those they have lost bearing gifts to honor their loved ones or the great heroes of the past.

Udjat typically takes place during the ninth cycle of the moon in a year. The cities of Tor Sirat and Tor Obolus overflow with visitors seeking to make their way to the necropolis and give their gifts over to the Tombkeepers. Udjat is a festival to remember those who have departed, but also reminds others of what they have not yet finished.

Many Tarkathi reserve this as a time to swear oaths and finish business that has yet to be finished. As with many Tarkathi festivals, Udjat is also filled with feasting and drinking. Interestingly, drug use during Udjat is not as common as people need their wits while on pilgrimage. Gebal directly follows the Festival of Udjat in the tenth moon cycle of a year.

This is not a festival but a warning to others that on this day the veil between the world of the living and the dead is at its thinnest, and that the dead may be found to walk with the living. The bravest do not hide in their homes but dress up like the dead and wander the night, going from door to door and placing the blood of freshly slain goats upon the mantle.

It is said that when the dead come to a house marked with blood, they will take so much time licking it up that the dawn will come, banishing them back to their tomb. Within those homes the living gather and tell stories of the terrors of the wastes and hug their loved ones close until the dawn comes.

The Tarkathi also understand death is an omnipresent force in the world, especially in the land of Tarkath. When the Gods were slain, the people of Tarkath turned to the only higher power that they knew remained — Death. The Tarkathi believe that the the spirits of those who die never truly leave this world and that they remain, watching over the living and are able to grant wisdom from beyond the grave.

As a result, they have created complicated death rituals that preserve and prepare the body and spirit for the journey into the afterlife. The mourners of the dead make a pilgrimage to Nekros, the City of Tombs, to hand their deceased over to Nekrite priests who prepare the departed by weighing their organs upon a great scale known as the Kephrix. Those judged worthy by the scales are placed upon a funerary barge and sent down the Khyber River to Tor Sirat, where they are laid to rest in the Necropolis of Karna, ascending to the Heavens to guide and watch over those who still live.

Those who are judged unworthy are placed upon a barge and sent down the Tethys River to Tor Obolus, where they are lain to rest in the Necropolis of Abydos, their Ket sent to the Underworld to suffer tortures for all eternity. It is said that those fail to undergo these rites have their Ket stuck between worlds and will not rest in peace. They will be doomed to wander the land as an undead and seek to ruin the lives of those who yet live.

It is worth noting that there is a special order of priests known as the Tombkeepers who take custody of the bodies once they reach Karna or Abydos. Little is known about this group other than that they wear dark robes that do not allow their faces to be seen and that all members of the Tombkeepers have their eyes removed so that they might not ever witness what they see within the depths of the necropolis.

O my heart … Do not stand up against me as a witness! Do not create opposition against me among the assessors! Do not tip the scales against me in the presence of the Kephrix! You are my soul which is in my body, The great Heset who makes my flesh sound. When you go forth to the Hereafter, My name shall not stink to the courtiers who create people on his behalf.

Do not tell lies about me in the presence of Ammet! Blood has been featured prominently in Tarkathi culture for many centuries. Though none now remember the blood rites rumored to have taken place in ancient times, the people of the south honor their heritage by involving blood in many parts of their modern society.

The most prominent examples are that oaths are sealed with a blood pact known as a Shere wherein the participants cut themselves and place the blood upon a contract.

Some will mix the blood with the sealing wax just to keep the page cleaner. Blood debts are common in Tarkath. If one is unable to pay a debt in traditional currency they offer to swear a Shere to someone instead. If the person is higher in station, they may ask for a Homdar, blood price.

The individual must grant the blood price if it is asked of them. While in modern days a Homdar is sometimes paid in coin or other goods, it is not uncommon to ask for payment in actual blood.

The amount asked for can be a few drops or as a gesture of final gratitude, a life. In the wake of the Great War that devastated the land, the very magic that protected the Tors and all life in Tarkath disappeared entirely. A woman, the last of the line of ancient dragon lords, rose to lead the people.

Her name was Valena and she was one of the greatest minds of her age and perhaps any other. She witnessed the devastation wrought upon Tarkath and, seeking to save her people, scoured the libraries for any knowledge of the ancients that might aid her. In doing so, she was able to construct devices using lost technology that, while not magic, served to protect the Tors once again. The Tarkathi people were so grateful that they chose her to lead them as the first Queen of Tarkath.

For the next three decades, Valena worked tirelessly to rebuild and strengthen Tarkath. Almost all modern Tarkathi culture, technology, and government can trace its origins back to her rule and she is openly revered by many as the Mother of Tarkath. Statues of Valena are very common sights throughout the region and she is often prayed to by those who seek guidance or aid in a difficult endeavor.

The name Valena is commonly given to female Tarkathi who are especially blessed, special, or born beneath a favorable sign. The legends speak of a Tarkathi King of old named Roland, who was descended from the line of the noble Queen Valena. He was the last God King of Tarkath to sit upon the Dragon Throne and is revered among many in the south for his bravery and wisdom. It is said that Roland led an army into the north and attacked the home of House Bannon in Highcourt, unseating a corrupt King from power and taking the throne of Arnesse for Tarkath.

His reign was marked as a time of great peace and prosperity in the Kingdom. A time when the people of Tarkath could freely venture forth into the north, spreading their culture and influence. Among many modern Tarkathi, Roland is the very pinnacle of what a Lord of the South should be — a scholar, a warrior, a philosopher. They long to find a ruler who can take up his mantle and lead them to victory against the tyrannical lords in the north.

It is said that once, Tarkath was a lush, green land that was home to beings even older than the Gods of the Eldra. Stories say they lived in a mystical city known as Nefras that was said to be made of solid gold and held the secrets on the very nature of existence. The stories go on to say that there was a massive war between the ancients and the Gods that ripped the land apart. The resulting destruction scoured Tarkath free of all life and soured the soil with poison.

The story does not say what happened to Nefras other than that the city was swallowed in a great cataclysm. Still there are tales of those who have travelled into the deepest parts of the wastelands and said that there, they have seen an ephemeral, shimmering golden city half buried in ash and always just out of reach.

There are those who dismiss this as a mirage or hallucination, but the rare expedition still braves the Deep Waste searching for Nefras to this very day.

The story is told of a man named Hakkan. His brother marries a wealthy woman, but Hakkan finds a poor wife and lives as a poor man. He goes into the cave using the words and finds a horde of gold coins.

The brother goes to the cave and steals as much treasure as he can but is caught inside and killed by the thieves. In the process they are spied by Merena and Hakkan is able to mark another house in the neighborhood to throw them off the trail. This happens twice more and eventually Hakkan and Merena are able to trick the thieves and kill them all. The story ends with the leader of the thieves making a final bid to kill Hakkan in his home only to be foiled by the cunning Merana, who is then wed to his son in thanks for her services.

Legends tell of someone finding an object deep in the wastes who appreance betrays it to be of value. When touched, a smoky mist emerges from within and the air fills with the smell of brimstone.

The mist coalesces into a shape not unlike that of a man yet bears a number of unnatural, animalistic features. The creature offers three wishes in exchange for a drop of blood, though those who agree to its demands eventually find that anything these beings give is but poison and ash.