The Bloodlands

**The Bloodlands** are a providence of Jibra'il, whose capital is built around the continuously rotting corpse of a Tarrasque. For travelers who have not visited the Macnifex in person, it is hard to conceive of the scale of the place. It is even harder for outsiders to understand how wholly the economic engine of butchering the bound Tarrasque has transformed the society of the still swelling Metropolis.

As you draw closer to the capital of the Bloodlands, the first oddity most people notice is the shift in ecology and weather; the coniferous forest with its seasonal snows gives way to a humid, almost tropical zone. The temperature for the surrounding area keeps steady at warm or even hot, sometimes stiflingly so even in the dead of what would otherwise be winter. However, the tropical plants here are unique, twisted and changed from ground soaked in red (from this point on, the water is no longer safe to drink; Macnifex is provided with imported water carried into the city at great expense, primarily via a large aqueduct running from upriver).

The second thing a traveler will note is the sounds of the monster screaming. Its roar echoes for dozens of leagues and the ground will occasionally tremor as the creature at the heart of Macnifex thrashes. Most times the God-Butchers and Marrow Miners keep the monstrosity unconscious, but even they claim that, despite toiling night and day, they can not extract enough to keep the creature down every hour. By the time the traveler can see the walls they’ll also see the beast’s horns peaking up above even the tallest manor-towers built by the Binder-Lords. The air above the city is often blackened with a swarm of stirges and hungry gulls cawing to swoop down for scraps from the never-ending butchery. Macnifex’s famous marketplace extends far beyond its gates and, even a mile outside of the metropolis, passersby are assaulted by innumerable merchants hawking their wares. This anarchic bazaar and endless swirls of tents, caravans, and other temporary accommodations that exist beyond the walls is a city unto itself known as **The Spillway.**

Entering through the main gate, visitors must press through the rich market to gain access to the rest of the city. The vendors of **The Throat** are only slightly more settled and permanent than those outside and the district is complete with shops, lodgings, places of work, and all else which continues almost to the processing core of Macnifex itself; **the fortress Salzinwuun**, around which the rest of city was built.

While a large number of merchants are involved in the selling and buying of water or Tarrasque byproducts, nearly anything can be bought or sold in Macnifex: slaves, drugs,all manner of vice, and even the rare goods that are technically illegal are generally tolerated if the sellers and buyers can learn to behave themselves and pay off the right House Militia Captains.

To the north the section of Macnifex, known as the **Beast Crown District**, holds the manor-towers of the Binder-Lords. Most of these hereditary oligarchs can trace their lineage back to the original adventurer heroes who bound the Tarrasque—their authority an ordained and sacred trust emanating from their possession of one of the 13 Command Words that can release an immovable harpoon keeping the Tarrasque bound—and all wish that their reign never end. It would be wise for travelers to ignore (and certainly never repeat) rumors of the decadent excesses of these aristocrats even though such untruths run rampant throughout the settlement and the world beyond.. falsehoods made more attractive by salacious details like the secret orgies fueled by blood wine where biting, cutting, and feral bloodletting intermingle with the carnal merging of bodies in a cacophony of violence, hunger, and lust that can last for as long as the sanguine spirits continue to flow.

Of course this is a horrendous slander of the good and just rulers of the city that the humble author of this simple tract would never suggest, only noting that it is something that other people say and merely wishing to better dissuade you—dear traveler—of believing such libelous blasphemy.

The core of the city is dedicated to the eternal harvest itself. Scattered about the Tarrasque are hundreds of workers cutting at the beast, clearing the massive charnel sluices of obstructions, operating cranes to move the larger pieces, or extracting small pearl like granules, subtle glands, and tiny excretions of alchemical reagent. Overseeing it all are the God-Butchers, hulking figures with huge adamantine or Tarrasque bone greatswords strapped to their backs, screaming orders with mouths stained red by skin-chaw. Even the Binder-Lords give these workmen respect, as anyone that does not might see that the vicious skills they’ve gained carving the monstrosity can be just as useful in flensing humanoids. Care is needed around Salzinwuun as bloated ramora fleas (parasites turned predator from long gorging on the Tarrasque) sometimes spill out into the city. These creatures range from merely dog-sized to something akin to a draft horse yet are far from the most dangerous hazard of the city.

Everywhere is the stink of meat cooking, piss being boiled in huge vats, fat being rendered into its base components. When not drowned out by the calls of the beast, the city is loud with the hungry cries of men and other carrion eaters. Additionally, depending on what section of the city a traveler finds themselves in, roughly 1 in every 10 citizens may be horrifically mutated or disfigured, either by the tarrasque’s influence or as punishment for their crimes. These are the sights, sounds, smells of my beloved home, the finest city of the world. And above all else, in the face of this, you must act natural; do not gawk, do not wrinkle your nose or cover your ears, lest you be marked as one of the tenders and considered an easy target for pickpockets, scavvers and other low-lives.

The southeastern section of Macnifex is currently referred to as the **Tail Stones district**, mostly in ruins since the 12th Meridian Crisis when the beast managed to briefly free its tail to whip at the earth, stones, and machinery behind itself and send projectiles hurtling through the air to smash innumerable city blocks like the work of a thousand catapults. While now “safe”, only the desperate and impoverished reside in the Tail Stones (and one would be much better off finding lodgings elsewhere; see the other side of this pamphlet for my recommendations for food and lodging)

Among Macnifex’s other environs is the notable **Sage’s Row**, dedicated (primarily) to alchemical research, along with small districts dedicated to particular classes, professions, or even races. Each one of these containing secrets and intrigue well beyond the scope of this slim guide.