Character Histories: Grynne and Matrix

(Pronunciation: Grynne: Just like the English word "grin." Matrix: Like the English word meaning a setting or source.)

Grynne would say he was an opportunist; others, less charitably, would just have called him a petty thief. He always kept an eye out for the unguarded prize, the distracted owner of a bulging purse, the door accidentally left ajar by someone hurrying out of the house, the handbag accidentally left behind. He hated avoidable risk even more passionately than he hated the idle rich -- idle and rich at least by his standards -- who lived in the great houses in and about his chosen home town, but loved the thrill of split-second action, of careful plans and swift execution, of reacting to the unexpected instinctively. He ran away from home at so young an age, he no longer remembers the reason; his parents might have thwarted some little whim, or he might have been bored and seeking excitement, or he might simply have struck out for himself for the thirtieth time to try and fend for himself and learn the streets, and never gotten around to returning. No doubt his parents searched for him, but by the time they knew he was gone, he was well on his way down the road, and would soon be two or three towns away.

He finally settled down in Venighas, the largest and most important city in its region of the Fire Coast, when he was still just a boy, living on and off the streets. Resilient, crafty, and adaptable, he had no trouble finding and stealing -- or buying with stolen money, or money made from the sale of stolen goods -- what he needed to eat, and scrounging places to shelter and sleep. He found the best and easiest place to "work" -- relieving the wealthy of a small portion of their riches, and providing it to the impoverished, primarily including his impoverished self -- and the tricks that would best keep him from being seen. Of these, one of the most reliable became shadowing Matrix.

Matrix got started on her career when her father, desperate for work, managed to persuade a prospective employer to visit his home. Matrix liked the sense of wealth and ease about the stranger, and displayed her interest in ways that got his attention; he said he liked her spunk, and his lecherous eyes said they liked everything about her that could be seen, only wishing they could see more. Well into her late teens, she was already used to getting whatever boys near her age could offer just by asking the right way and moving the right way as she asked, and from the way the wealthy stranger reacted to her silent encouragement, she supposed the same ploys would work on him, all the more since he seemed to have so much to give.

Of course, it wasn't that simple. Her father didn't like what he was seeing at first, but eventually came to terms with it as he landed an easy job, paying more than a fair wage, and his daughter seemed to enjoy his employer's attentions and the gifts she received. As for Matrix's mother, she was glad to be rid of the dangers of poverty, and helped teach Matrix how to keep the old lecher interested as best she could. It didn't last -- the father's employment little longer than the employer's infatuation -- but Matrix learned from the experience: What went wrong, what went her way, which of her mother's primitive suggestions worked best, and how to improve upon them. By the end, she was disgusted with the old man, but not with what she'd done. She felt that if she chose younger men, more vulnerable, trusting, and faithful -- if she avoided lechers and other scum who knew what they wanted and had a price already in mind, and worked instead on twisting otherwise scrupulous young men into a kind of faithfulness to /her/ and their secret trysts, she could gain more from each, with fewer dangers and more security. It would take more work, more planning, and greater subtlety, but she had no objection to any of that, if it would grant her the independence she desired, and the means of escaping the impoverished home and parents whom she blamed for goading her into the lecher's despicable embrace.

By the time Grynne spotted her, she was working on her own, having more or less abandoned her parents to their own devices. She had perfected ways of dressing and walking and behaving that would capture the senses and imaginations of the kinds of men she wanted without getting her into trouble with their consciences or other passers-by -- and hidden ways of defending herself from approaches of the wrong kind. She already had a few reliable "customers" and was able to get by, so she was patient, and let her potent beauty work on the next customers-to-be, working at a kind of performance art to arouse their curiosity and interest so they could tell themselves there were other reasons for their eyes to follow her than the deep, animal, instinctive ones that ensured they always did. It was this first stage of captivation, the one that seemed to affect almost everyone at least to some extent, that got Grynne's attention. He noticed her, and noticed that wherever she went, moving and behaving the way she did, eyes followed her, and heads turned, and footsteps slowed, and attention on everything but Matrix herself and her actions lapsed. Cutting purses was child's play when Matrix was working her spell; Grynne could all but steal the shirts off of young men's backs sometimes while they stared and lost track of time and space, as long as he didn't obstruct their view of her. She had honed her craft to the point where just passing by, doing her thing, was enough to break certain men's hearts.

Perhaps Grynne was still too young to be affected, or perhaps Matrix's carefully-honed act really did work most powerfully on the faithful would-be victims she preferred, but Grynne was never really interested in Matrix's allure except as it affected the people around him. Perhaps he simply recognized her traps for what they were, and saw a kindred spirit in her rather than a beauty to be pursued or an evil to be shunned. Whatever the reason, he often cheerfully followed in Matrix's wake, looking everywhere but at her, awaiting the moment when no one was in sight but Matrix herself and various men unable to turn their eyes or an iota of their attention anywhere else, so he could rob them blind, picking targets of opportunity or of course those that seemed to have the greatest wealth. It worked like a charm for a while, until Matrix herself happened to spot him in the act of stealing a purse, and narrowed her eyes dangerously. He reacted at once with swift signs for silence and friendship and pause, and she made a split-second decision and went on with what she was doing instead of alerting their mutual victim to his danger. Perhaps she too saw a kindred spirit in Grynne, or perhaps she simply decided it was better for her victim to lose his purse than to call his conscious attention to the fact -- and its consequences -- that she was dominating his gaze and his thoughts. She made her decision by instinct, and let Grynne go, and moved on.

She didn't expect him to actually track her down and meet her, or to look at her in the open, cheerful way he did, but then she didn't realize that he had been shadowing her for some time already, and that he wanted to preserve her as a reliable distraction for his victims, without risk that she would call out the next time and see him caught. She was used to men and boys offering her gifts, but it still caught her by surprise when Grynne met up with her later that day and said, "Fair's fair; the decoy's as important as the knife," and gave her a share of the money from the purse he'd cut. He was so young, it was hard to take him seriously, but he was sharp and cunning and had picked up a thorough knowledge of the streets, and Matrix liked the open, unassuming way he talked to her, without trying to show off or impress, without a hunger in his eyes ... and the things he said made sense. So a tentative working relationship began, already developing into the beginnings of a friendship. Independent as both had become by then, and willing as they both had been to leave their real families behind, they filled a void in one another's lives as they came together: He as a brilliant little brother to her, she as a clever, appreciative, street-smart older sister, like nothing and no one either had ever had before.

They worked well together for a few weeks ... then for months ... then for years ... coming up with new schemes and trying them together, relying on each other more and more. Toward the very end, Matrix began working on wealthy men who made easier but less lasting and useful prey, persuading them to tryst with her in their own homes when everyone else was away. With the help of the master of the house to ensure there would be no interruptions, and Matrix commanding his attention as only she could with intensely close contact, Grynne could go through the house with complete security, seeking the most valuable things to steal as if shopping at a store, then split the take with Matrix as he had been doing for years. It couldn't last though; one evening, a too-suspicious wife came home early with her entourage, caught Grynne in the act of theft, and caught her husband trying to conceal Matrix from her. Their marriage was destroyed in that evening, but one thing did unite husband and wife one last time: The need to squash the potential for scandal and blackmail. Unfortunately for Grynne and Matrix, they had aimed too high at the wrong moment, and their wealthy would-be victims had the necessary pull to arrange exile for them without public trial. So it was that, not long after they began to achieve the greatest success of their dubious careers, Grynne and Matrix found themselves aboard a ship bound for Lost Souls' Island. They could have blamed each other, and many would have in their places, but they were practical people, both individually and as a team, and they'd gone into "business" together with open eyes. They knew the dangers they'd be facing in exile, especially as a dangerously attractive young woman and a youth still in his teens, and having worked so well together for so long, they preferred to face those dangers together, relying on one another still more than they ever had to before.

Character History: Glaxtiks

(Pronunciation: Just the way it looks -- like the start of the word "GLAd," running into the word "AXE," running into the word "STICKS". Stress is on the first syllable.)

Glaxtiks saw his parents killed in the street by town enforcers when he wasn't yet in his teens. His father's only crimes were the Fire Coast equivalents of petty theft, grand theft, robbery, various assaults with deadly weapons, battery, murder, (he considered it to be "accidental death," not having intended for the man to bleed to death of his wounds) and (fatally) resisting arrest when he was finally run down. He had never considered himself a public menace: Just a man without a job doing what he had to do. The authorities, those of his victims who survived, and the friends and family of the deceased, might have taken a slightly different view of the matter. Glaxtiks' mother hadn't been much involved in criminal activity at all, except for reaping its limited fruits, and -- at the end -- attacking the enforcers, with intent to kill, as she saw them fighting her husband to his death. Glaxtiks knew he could do nothing, and so he stayed in the shadows and watched. Another child would have sworn vengeance, but Glaxtiks was more concerned at the time with tactical matters of survival - he had every expectation, however false, that he too would be killed if the enforcers found him, and wouldn't have liked the alternative they did intend if he found out. One of his primary sources of food and shelter was gone, and he knew he would have to work harder than ever to keep meat on his bones in the future; his parents had done little to raise him, and seemed to forget about his existence as often as not as he grew older; increasingly, for years, he'd been more or less looking after himself.

Glaxtiks knew the local gangs of thugs and young troublemakers, and steered clear of them as asiduously as he avoided the town's enforcers. He didn't like the looks of them, and he didn't like to live under anyone's authority but his own. His gutter's-eye-view of the world suggested that human life consisted of purposeless violence -- like his father's against his mother when he was drunk -- lies, cheating, betrayals, and structures of authority designed to crush the compliant for the enrichment of those at the top. Animals could be trusted, when they weren't broken and ruined by a human master -- not to be his friends by nature, but to respond to him in a fashion he understood -- but humans could not be trusted at all.

Glaxtiks was entirely unlike his father. He abhorred drunkenness and the pointless violence to which it led, but welcomed violence as a means to any end he deemed worthwhile. His father had avoided fighting anyone who could be expected to fight back, except in the last necessity -- even Glaxtiks had ceased to be a target a year or two before his father's death -- but Glaxtiks willingly did anything and everything necessary to acquire what he needed to survive. As he grew older and more capable, and started doing his larcenous "work" less often, with more dangerous and lucrative targets -- he was coming to understand that falling into habits, and continuous risk exposure, brought greater risks of getting caught than any short-term ones he might undertake head-on -- and he sometimes needed to kill in order to open an avenue of entry or escape, or to eliminate a witness, he killed without a qualm or a second thought. He was skilled and clever and lucky, and he had reliable friends: With meat as his introduction and careful work after that, he taught the stray dogs of his town's streets to take him as one of their own, and an alpha male at that. He befriended other strays as well -- cats and rodents and racoons and every other wild animal he found sneaking about the city at night -- and though they weren't as loyal as the dogs, and couldn't be trained to make useful diversions and the like, he won their trust, so they wouldn't react to his presence, and by watching their behavior, he could tell when other humans were nearby, long before his own senses could detect them -- though knowing when and where to look helped him train those senses to a fine pitch as well. Unlike his father, he was an utterly cold-blooded killer, who would refrain from murderering a man for his purse only when he thought the risk too great for the gain -- and unlike his father, he was always master of himself, and never, except in self-defense, hurt anyone he loved.

There were girls, but his feelings never lasted -- he would long for one for a while, holding her in his heart, and follow her in secret, hoping to defend her in case the need arose, but also watching her, making sure that he could trust her, always, always, learning some reason that he could not, and turning away from her forever. Still, he did not blame the objects of his brief infatuations for failing to live up to his hopes and desires; he had loved them, and if anything, to Glaxtiks, that was his fault. So there were girls he would not harm ... there were girls, and there was the child, whose story must wait for another tale.

Character Histories: Dargon and Quix

(Pronunciation: Dargon: emphasis on the first syllable, which rhymes with "bar" -- the second syllable is pronounced more or less like the word "gone". Quix: Just the way it looks. If "quick" were a noun, his name would be pronounced like its plural form.)

Dargon and Quix would never admit that their friendship and rivalry developed over a girl -- least of all over a completely platonic relationship -- and they may not even remember that it's true. They were apparently-unexceptional children lost among hundreds of others in the largest orphanage in Venighas on the Fire Coast, and had no more interest in one another than in any of the other children until the stranger showed up on the ophanage's doorstep with a baby in her arms. She was beautiful and graceful and self-possessed, younger than either of them, but seeming -- not only to Dargon and Quix but to everyone at the orphanage -- like a higher order of being, a childish heroine out of a fairy tale. No one knew whence she had come, or how, or why, and she never spoke of her journeys, but rumors swirled endlessly -- not only rumors of noble birth, but the stuff of fantasies. Her boots and cloak were muddied with the soil of half the kindom, and the baby was alive and healthy because of her care, though she was only seven years old when she came to the orphanage. She had come the long way from lands unknown without the help of any grown companion, and it was soon known throughout the orphanage that the babe she had helped along the way, still too small to walk on his own, was as much of elvenkind as human.

From the moment of her arrival, she was the most popular child in the orphanage, with no rival worthy of the name. She had a way with the adults that no one else could match, and the novelty of her appearance never wore off as she retained her independent ways of thinking and her casual, almost-unwitting leadership throughout her time with the other children. Her approval, her attention, were the chief prizes to be won in the little world in which Dargon and Quix lived, and they strove like all their peers for the twin prizes ... and earned them, again and again.

Neither could say just why it was -- she herself might have had no inkling -- but the beautiful storybook heroine whose arrival had brought new life to the drab orphanage was drawn to Dargon and Quix more than any of their playmates. She spent time with them, and smiled at them often, as though they were old friends, and as they triumphed, they turned more and more of their efforts to outrivaling each other in her eyes -- and to cementing their positions as the only significant rivals for her attention. Everything at which each excelled, the other strove to match; Quix learned to play King's Men to compete with Dargon at the game; Dargon developed his own form of wit to compete with Quix's own; they drove each other to learn to write more beautifully, to read with more expression, to dance with grace and skill. Everything of which she approved, that won more of her friendly attention, became an opportunity for each to prove that he was the best in the orphanage at the things that -- to her -- mattered most. The little part-elven child developed two staunch and clever defenders, conspiring with each other to keep his infant mischief from getting him into trouble with the other children or adults, then telling the story together to the child's first protectress, each emphasizing the things he did, proudly pointing out the ways he cleared things up or planted false evidence to point in the wrong direction or at least away from the far-from-innocent child. They went on daring raids together to sneak cookies and other treats for her or for the child when neither could devise the means of succeeding on his own. As they saw the way her eyes shone when they cooperated and described the ways they helped each other, as her smiles accompanied their signs of friendship, her quiet frowns their signs of mutual distrust, they came to work together more and more -- at first purely as a false front, then more and more out of habit and as almost second nature as they grew together and found they could depend on one another, both when working together to increase the standing of each and when competing as rivals driving one another to improve just to keep up the pace. As time passed, and the beautiful new girl became less of a novelty, the boy who came with her less of a helpless child and more simply the smallest in a group of four fast friends, the friendship between the four them grew, as -- increasingly for its own sake -- did Dargon and Quix's rivalry. As the girl who had awed them changed in their thoughts to just a close friend, a child at the orphanage on whom they could count when it mattered, they became still fiercer rivals, as the judges of their success became their surest friends and harshest critics: One another and themselves.

Thereafter, though they always stuck by the pair that had brought them together, Dargon and Quix were more in each other's thoughts than the girl who united them. Even in adolescence, though one or the other gave her long looks from time to time -- for she was very beautiful still -- and they developed an interest in girls as objects of desire and conquest, they never again competed over her. She knew them well enough that she would never have given in to their suits -- knowing half of their wish to attain her might come from showing the other up, and wishing to be loved only for herself -- and they knew her well enough to see that it was so. Besides, by that time, they had other things on their minds, especially where she and the little boy over whom she still watched were involved: Hopes and opportunities for such power as put mere mortal desires to shame.

But that is another tale, for another day.

Grat'han Language

We haven't yet described the Grat'han language in detail, but I figured I might as well post what little we have in a nice central location (i.e. here) to keep things semi-consistent. Note that ambiguity, homophones, and synonyms do muddy the waters (e.g. make it possible for us to sort of ignore this when it makes for good names and/or storytelling) but I kind of like having this around for reference.
In general, the Grat'han language is rich in sound and texture, with a non-universal tendency toward multisyllabic compound words, and toward hard consonants in male names and soft consonants in female ones. A simple "dictionary" follows -- these words are significant only in the sense that they happen to have come up in the course of the game.

English - Grat'han:

black = Thah

both (prefix to certain compound words consisting of two nouns) = T (T' when preceding a hard consonant)

bud (a plant's shoot) = Neyl

dance = Ahren

dew(drops) = Nisin

dusk jay (a kind of Grat'han bird) = Rovaru

entry = Thestrin

feather = Lacreth

fire = Reyla (sometimes spelled Reila)

gift = Felis

green = Leth

home = Mona

laughter = Alimna

point = Krendas

river = Alua

sun = Narra

tide = Arten

treasure = Anyoth

water = Sefi

weapon = Volk

Grat'han - English:

Ahren = dance

Alimna = laughter

Alua = river

Anyoth = treasure

Arten = tide

Ato = Living (things)

Felis = gift

Krendas = point

Lacreth = feather

Lamna = Searching

Leth = green

Mona = home

Narra = sun

Neyl = bud (a plant's shoot)

Nisin = dew(drops)

Reyla or Reila = fire

Rovaru = dusk jay (a kind of Grat'han bird)

Sefi = water

T or T' (prefix to certain compound words consisting of two nouns) = both

Thah = black

Thestrin = entry

Volk = weapon

Annual Calendar

The calendar used along the Fire Coast, from which most of Black Steel's founding personnel originate, is similar in principle (but not in detail) to those used by the peoples of Tolkien's Middle Earth, having 12 months of 30 days each, and five days that exist outside of any month, with an additional one for leap years. Within the Broken Sea region, this calendar (with slight variation) is the primary one used in Black Steel lands, Arasta, Ephinos, Espava, Korv, Rhedas, and the Sheradi provinces, and is recognized in Shalasia, Itheshia, Tornbring Vale, and Kolmarch. Havandia, the Sankel Badlands, the Teigarant Freelands, and the Grat'han Trade Network use lunar calendars primarily, whose details will not be described here; Korv and Kolmarch also use a Dwarven calendar the details of whose very basis is beyond the scope of this article.

Feast of the Sun's Return - The first day of the calendar year always follows the longest night of winter. It is traditionally a time of celebration in the north, where the seasons are more keenly felt. In the tropical lattitudes of Grat'ha, where the year is divided into the rainy season and dry season, this festival has little meaning; the sun never went anywhere.

Teimary - Roughly corresponding to January (but starting several days earlier), Teimary falls in the middle of the northern winter, and of the north-Grat'han dry season.

Karaban - Likewise corresponds approximately to February.

Tempest - Closest to our March, Tempest is famous for its high winds in the north, but its name is more than a little misleading in the Broken Sea region, as the Rat Pack is fond of pointing out.

Festival of Life Renewed - Generally corresponding to the Vernal Equinox, this day falls near the end of the north-Grat'han dry season, where it is celebrated by many as a last sure chance to enjoy good weather before the rains come.

Shelin - Analogous to April.

Leva - One of the most delightful months on the Fire Coast, May-like Leva marks the beginning of the north-Grat'han rainy season.

Su - Corresponds roughly to June.

Midsummer Day - The summer solstice, celebrated raucously in the north, a tradition which Telaeri has tried to bring to The Scabbard, where unfortunately it usually needs to be celebrated indoors. On leap years, (roughly one year in four) this festival is divided into the Day of Revels and the Leave-Taking (of the sun), surrounding Midsummer Night.

Zerian - July-like weather means oppressive heat, and in the case of northern Grat'ha, even more oppresive humidity and rain.

Argolan - Like August, Argolan carries weather every bit as bad as Zerian's, and often worse.

Nifoper - Similar to September.

Feast of the Harvest - Another festival whose name is more or less meaningless in the region of Grat'ha, this one falls on or near the Autumn Equinox.

Afor - The end of the north-Grat'han rainy season usually falls in the month that corresponds to our October.

Day of the Veil (between living and dead) - Corresponding more or less to America's Halloween, this is a day of remembrance and preparation for the coming winter in northern climes. At The Scabbard, it has become a massive all-day and all-night celebration, fueled in part by the fact that the rainy season comes to an end right around this time.

Noaver - Similar to November, this month is usually the first of the dry season.

Acar - The final month of the year corresponds roughly to December.