Daymore

**“***Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact.*
Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.” -Marcus Aurelis Emperor of
Rome Circa 121-180 AD

**Daymore:**

Once the mightiest nations of men and one of the mightiest in the world,
Daymore has since descended into corruption and despair.  At one time ruled by noble kings that were
said to possess the blood of dragons within them, the line was shattered by a
brutal coup instigated by the church of Imperius, god of domination, wealth,
and power.  A theocracy was put in its
place. A weak emperor, little more than a puppet of the church, was installed
along with a senate filed with greedy, scheming men.  This was not by accident as the end result,
each faction fighting the other, keeps unity from occurring and thus control
remains in the hands of a very select few from the clergy, the aristocracy, the
guilds, the military and others.

Those that were willing to accept these new changes and forswear their
oaths of loyalty to the line of kings were permitted to remain in the
cities.  Called “Sovereign Daymorians”
they have enjoyed all the luxuries the empire has to offer: advances in
science, medicine, and the arts. But the dragon’s blood is not completely
purged from these once-proud people.  A
bloodlust must be sated and so The Kharas, a monstrous coliseum resides within
the capital city, Daymore Kharas.
Thousands of people from all over the world come to watch gladiators
fight and die against beasts, both of the natural world and not, and against
each other whether they be orc, troll, human, or halfling.  It is said that there has been so much blood
spilled upon the sands of the Kharas that the ground has been stained a
permanent red and when the rains come, a crimson torrent can be seen draining
out of the pits beneath.

Those who chose not to surrender their loyalty to the line of kings were
banished into the farthest reaches of the kingdom.  Called “Provincial Daymorians” by their
counterparts, life for them is anything but easy: attacks by evil forces from
bandits to wyverns are common; there is little food and even fewer precious
resources.

The saving grace is that one of the last true kings, King Ramien the
builder constructed an elaborate network of roads with fortresses guarding key
tactical points to ensure that trade could flow safely.  While little trade occurs between cities,
only three of the original six remain, these keeps have provided safe haven for
those who would make their home beyond the walls of the cities.

Unfortunately, as with the other Daymorians, the Provincials are divided
into a dizzying web of titles: Knights, Barons, Dukes, and Counts, all scheming
to increase their power via the ancient game of politics: the War of Crowns,
all in the hopes that the Emperor himself will recognize a nobleman’s
particular achievements and invite him to make a place for himself within the
senate (despite the sacrifice and defiance of their predecessors).  Money better spent on food or supporting the
infrastructure is spent on tourneys to boasts one lord’s prosperity over
another or to hire mercenaries to wage private wars against each other.

And so the sun has set in the west, the men once sworn to protect become
corrupt, misguided, and leaderless.  But
secretly within their hearts, the people of Daymore pray to old gods and the
memories of their kings and hope with all their essence for their return.

Out of the six original founding cities of the kingdom of Daymore only
three remain: the capital, Daymore Kharas, the port city of Daymore Merenia and
the besieged city of Daymore Dolorr far to the east with the cursed bog of
Carad-thrak within sight and the enemy at their very doorstep.

The situation is grim: with the senate and the church in control, they
have demanded all available military forces back to defend their cities (and
ensure their own safety), leaving the outer provinces completely
unprotected.  Were it not for the
Daymorian knights and leaders that still called this area home, it would have surely
fallen.  The cities have become horrifically
overcrowded and with each piece of gold that is squeezed by the politicians and
clergy out of the common populace, poverty and despair run rampant.

Daymore has allowed the alliances of old to wither.  Instead of allies, they now have trading relations
and business partnerships.  All foreign
relations are now directed towards acquiring more wealth or spreading the
influence of their god, Imperius.  While
they are recognized as still the greatest power in the west, they are no longer
respected by the world, nor are they feared.
They are perceived to have fallen from grace and become little more than
proselytizing bankers.

Daymore Kharas is the home to the Hall of the Supreme Throne, the center
of worship for Imperius.  It is from here
that the bulk of Daymorian clerics and paladins hail from.  Here too is the Citadel, once known as
Dragon’s Fang, now called “The Emperor’s Spear”.  It is the single largest fortress in the
western hemisphere and the largest martial academy in the world.  All manner of warriors and fighters are
instructed here.  Another institution of
note is the College of Music.  While not
as prestigious as the legendary Tower of Song or Hall of the Eternal Hymn, it
is still widely known by the world at large as producing some of the finest
bards and minstrels that ever lived as well as the most skilled players in the
game of prestation and politics known as the War of Crowns .  Something far less known is the fact that
many bards from around the world are also trained to be spies and
assassins.  The College of Music has
produced quite a few success stories in these fields as well.

There is no formal thieves guild in Daymore Kharas nor is there a mage’s
guild.  Wizards, Warlocks and other forms
of arcane spellcasters are hunted and routed out by the clergy and their
red-robbed Inquisitors.  The writings of
Imperius are absolute: His power is supreme, all others must fall.  Any arcane casters that dwell within the
capital are either on the (discrete) payroll of someone powerful (clergy,
senator, etc.) or as far underground as one can get in the city.  Conversely, there are a plethora of temples
and churches dedicated to Imperius and his divine servants, making this city
the destination of many pilgrimages and the training ground of all manner of
priest and paladin.

Daymore Merenia, along the southern coast, remains the Daymorian’s
largest and most active port.   It is
more cosmopolitan that most other cities held by Daymore.  The powers that reign over the kingdom were
forced to concede to a distasteful fact early on:  enforcing the religious doctrine of the land
is fine for the natives, but attempting to do so upon those who come from other
lands is futile and worse, financially calamitous.  And so, the grip of the clergy is not quite as
all-consuming.  The political
machinations of the senate and the church are far from here and so there’s some
respite from the constant scheming and treachery that riddles the capital.

The docks of Daymore Merenia are enormous and considered a wonder to
behold: countless ships with thousands of people swarming over them, yelling
out instructions and orders in dozens of languages.  Every hour a fortune’s worth of goods and
cargo are loaded and unloaded in a (barely) controlled chaos.  Overhead there is a spider web of rigging and
freight lines criss-crossing so densely that it can blot out the sun in places.

One of the most prolific imports of Merenia is in flesh: specifically
slaves and, arguably more importantly, mercenaries.  Every man or woman with a sword in their
hand, a vacancy in their stomach and an empty purse can find a cot and a
contract within 24 hours. Scum, scalawags, bounty hunters, slavers, they all
come here to ply their trade and sell their skills.

The local thieves guild, known as simply as the Scarlet Lions (a takeoff
popular Daymorian heraldry using lion iconography as well as a nod to the
phrase “a den of thieves”) run a tight ship and try to keep things orderly:
they don’t kill people, they evade rather than attack guards, and though paying
protection to them is costly, said individual or business *will* be protected, with lethal force, if deemed necessary.

Unfortunately, they are locked in a power struggle with the assassin’s
guild, Sea of Knives, and the slaver’s guild, Chains of Salt also known as
“Salties” (their current guildmaster, Viisq is a member of the reptilian Morgai
race and it was commented upon that he resembled a Saltwater Crocodile. {Viisq
then proceeded to eat the person who made the comment}).  The Salties have ties to the Royal Elf
slavers, the Emerald Chainmen while there are whispers that the Knives have
ties with the body snatchers from Icxithia.

The Lions are struggling to hold onto their territory, but they believe
in the “old traditions”  “Honor amongst
thieves”, and this is a philosophy (or weakness depending on who’s asking) that
the murderous Knives and rapacious Salties do not share and so all three
organizations are desperate for as much talent as they can get their hands on.

Seasoned veterans command a high price whether they fought on
battlefields or back alleys.  Several
gods have interests that align or coincide with the interest of one or more of
these organizations and so for clerics, it’s a seller’s market.  There is also a strong market for arcane
casters, mostly those fleeing the Inquisitors and their torments from other
Daymorian settlements.

Daymore Dolorr is a ruin of a great city: devastated by the war with the
Nevaraakese.  It is a broken place,
filled with wounded people.  Out of the
three remaining enclaves of Daymorian power, this is the one closest to the
brink of destruction, it is also, strangely, the most liberal, the most
tolerant and perhaps the one most likely to give rise to Daymore’s redemption.

The church of traditional Imperius church has little power, its
ecclesiastical presence here declared heresy and excommunicated for preaching
tolerance, balance, and more focus placed on fighting the forces of darkness
and evil as opposed to each other.  All
followers of Imperius crave power, what separates the “Eastern Heresy” as they
are called by the Orthodox Church in the west; believe that power should not be
an end, but a means to an end, something greater.  As the citizens of Daymore Dolorr huddle
together in the dark, praying for hope, for salvation, of hope and to finally
be free of the darkness, both beyond the walls and that which has taken root
within the heart of their once great kingdom.

Brave individuals of every race and creed come here to “fight the good
fight” as one elvish paladin put it.  All
are welcomed indeed with open arms usually.
Cigany caravans are granted entrance if possible, escaped slaves and
those fleeing religious persecution, including those on the run from the clergy
of Imperius,are granted sanctuary.  The
sick are healed, the wounded tended to as best as can be.

But the cost is high: from east, the forces of Nevaraak still lurk and
though Carad-Thraak is as much a bane to them as it is to the Daymorians,
agents of the Demon Sun manage to infiltrate the city and spread chaos and
despair.

Perhaps the greatest threat is not from the east, but the west.  The church of Imperius has declared all
clergy members in Daymore Dolorr heretics and they face persecution and even
death at the hands of their fellow priests and the Inquisition.  The Hierophant, leader of the Imperius church
excommunicated those clerics that would not conform and return to the
capital.  Soon, it is whispered by court
bards and church confessors, his Holiness will call for a crusade to extinguish
the “flame in the east” as it has been called by those who secretly support
them.

Everyone is needed here: wild-men, rangers, spies, knights, paladins,
wizards, assassins; all manner of devout folk whether they worship the gods,
nature, or their own ethos are permitted. Even warlocks are granted entry so
long as their insanity has not reached dangerous proportions and they are under
the care of someone.

All one needs to do is support good, or simply oppose the forces that
are waging war on the city and her people.
Gold, glory, honor, duty, self-interest, or just an intense desire to
piss off the church as well the Nevaraakese and their minions, everyone who
comes here does so believing in something and the fact that they are allowed to
believe different things from those in power and from each other may be what
transforms a city of refugees and rubble into the last bastion of virtue and
justice in the west.