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.

Physical Map of the Broken Sea Region

CLICK PICTURE FOR FULL-SIZE VERSION:

This is a basic physical map, with major terrain features but little in the way of detail. I hope to update the map with more precise information eventually and/or as Black Steel personnel make more discoveries. A larger-scale map, extending northwest to Eastport and the Fire Coast and beyond, and east beyond the end of the Broken Sea, will hopefully be posted sometime in the future, as well as smaller scale, detailed maps of the area surrounding The Scabbard, Thornton, and Kaiimar.

Character History: Charracks

(Pronunciation: Hard Ch, as in the Scottish "loch," and long American-English A in the first, stressed syllable; thus, roughly, "CARE-icks.")

Charracks was born to a wealthy merchant family in the town of Techlin on the Fire Coast, and found little in town to interest him as he grew into his teens. He pressed weights and trained under a local pugilist just to keep his mind off his boredom, but it always returned soon after each workout, when his muscles were finished working. He often wandered the streets out of sheer ennui, watching the people go by and wishing something sudden and violent would happen to make them interesting to him. Often, he fantasized about thieves approaching to steal from him, only to be broken under his sheer physical power as he attacked, but nothing of the kind ever happened.

One evening, lurking about the edges of town, Charracks spotted someone in a shadowy alley: An attractive young woman, several years his elder, daringly dressed, all in leather, rope, and chains. He followed her, and to his deep pleasure, found that she had led him to a place worthy not only of interest at last, but of awe and amazement: A forbidden temple, buried beneath the earth, arranged for the worship of a terrible diety whose power and deadly beauty were manifest to Charracks from the moment he entered as Vammakhel's presence seemed to descend upon him. He rejoiced in silence, and the woman who had led him there saw him, and took him aside with her to "punish" him.

She underestimated Charracks. Unlike the others of the town who worshiped at that temple, he had no desire to be bound and struck by a beautiful priestess or powerful priest. He fought the woman who led him there in spite of the wounds he inflicted in freeing himself, welcoming the pain that meant he was free. When he wrenched the whip from the hand of the priestess, he cast it aside in fury, and battered her with his fists alone, in fury that she should set herself above him and take for herself the right of punishment. When the high priest of the temple finally separated them, the priestess was barely alive. Broken and whimpering, no longer beautiful, she had to be carried away for slow, painful healing, and the blood that covered Charracks's fists was as much hers as his own. In another place, he might not have lived through the experience, but the high priest saw in Charracks the spirit of Vammakhel, and rewarded him with indoctrination into the priesthood. Charracks would not be asked to bind and strike willing supplicants however; he believed, and the high priest agreed, that was beneath him. Charracks was made the temple's enforcer, the looming threat meant to keep priests and parishioners alike in line, the man whose cold and deadly malice could cow even the lovers of pain who came to worship at that temple. Not long after his ritual indoctrination into the priesthood, the threat of Charracks's vengeance had risen to the top of the long list of reasons that those who knew of the temple's existence dared never betray its secrets.

Charracks's hands were never idle in the temple; a part of his time was spent in simple worship and his part in the rituals of the place, and a large part in simply being seen, grim and menacing, but there were sometimes also occasions to practice his torture techniques. He learned to use whips and scourges of all kinds, and eventually even some of the intricate pieces of cold equipment that filled the deepest dungeon rooms of the temple, but he also stayed in practice with his fists. There were always others better versed in the application of specialized devices, or the best ways to achieve the maximum possible level of pain without allowing the victim to lose consciousness, but Charracks was the most feared of all the priests, for to him, the purpose of the torture was secondary. Whether punishment was intended or an experience of Vammakhel's power, or even if information was to be gained, Charracks was ruthless, and interested only in inflicting pain. The high priest knew that to turn someone over to Charracks was to risk permanently disfigurment or disability for the victim, or driving the victim to madness with agony. He knew that the chance of a victim's death was greater under Charracks's hand than under any other priest's. He knew it, and still used Charracks, for the glory of Vammakhel, and for the sensation and the panic and terror that Charracks's use would bring.

No one ever found out if a parishioner broke faith after all or if the wrong person got careless and was seen by the authorities, but the town militia finally found out about the temple, and their raid emptied it completely. The fortunate managed to escape and flee, a few died fighting, and most of the parishioners were forced to leave the community. The priests, resisting arrest to inflict as much pain as they could, were mostly hanged. Charracks himself would have been among these if not for a stroke of good fortune. On the fateful night, he was sitting by his ailing mother's bed, brooding over the unworthiness of family obligations that prevented him from attending the forbidden temple to pain. Various confessors fingered him, but he had not been caught in the temple, and had no opportunity to resist arrest in its defense. When the town took custody of Charracks, he accepted it because the temple had already been taken and he knew he could not win, and his sentence was not death but exile in spite of his reputed deeds. His parents wept to learn where he had spent his time away from them, and grimly, imagining that the temple could have been safely defended if only he had been present to lead its priests and parishioners in the defense, Charracks blamed his parents for all that had gone wrong. Since the time he was taken into custody, he has never spoken to them.

Meeting in the wee hours of Leva 27

In a warm, dry, makeshift shelter in the coastal plains just outside of Kaiimar, Herring glances up at the curtain of rainwater pouring down from his shelter's eaves. The water has parted, as if to make room for something human-shaped, and he smiles and murmurs, "'Lo, Theril," as it falls into place again.
There's a smile in her voice, though Herring can't see it on her lips, as she asks, "How did you know it was me?"
He shrugs. "You breathe a certain way." And grins. "And who else would it be?" Letting his smile fade, he looks up and down the space where he supposes she must be. "You smell of blood. Is any of it ours?"
"Not a scratch on us." Her voice comes from nearer the ground than before, and a blood-soaked robe seems to materialize at Herring's feet. Theril's voice is soft and conspiratory. "This is hers. It's enchanted, but nothing dangerous, I think. As long as we don't bring it into a Wood Haven, at least." She pauses, apparently to stand, and says, "The rest of her is under wraps; I'll bring it out when it stops bleeding."
Herring nods and pokes at the robe with his boot. "All right. If it comes to life, I'll kill it for you."
"Just /kill/ it? If it comes to /life/, I want to see how it's /done/!"
"No doubt." Herring grins. "It's no good pretending to pout when I can't even see your lips doing it. Besides, if I kiss them now, I'll break your spell."
There's a rustle of movement and then a pause. Kindly, and from very close by, Theril tells him, "I almost said to go ahead; I'd rather spend the next few hours with you anyway."
Smiling up into the space where he supposes her eyes must be -- he's grown uncannily good at guessing -- he says, "Go on. They probably need you. We have days and days ahead in Wood Havens in the jungles, and who knows when you'll get to see Glaxtiks and Daryan again?"
"And Thaqz and Berlokh," she reminds him.
Herring nods. "It's a funny thing about Thaqz. I went with you into those tunnels to help you save his life, and I'd do it again, and I know he'd kill -- or even keep someone alive, of all things -- to save mine, but I don't think he or I can stand each other really."
"You haven't tried," she answers. "I think if you both let the rest of it go and just talked for a while, you'd be friends."
Leaning back, Herring muses, "Maybe so. Maybe that's what I'm afraid of. Maybe him too, for all I know." Then he smiles again. "I'm being selfish with your time, Theril. It sounds like the plan's worked so far, and I'm not about to sabotage it. You need to get back while you can still fly."
There's a motion in the air, and a wistful sigh. Theril says, "I almost kissed you goodbye."
Herring smiles and blows a kiss in her general direction. A soft smacking of lips and a wafting breath comes in reply. The thin curtain of rainwater dripping from the eaves of the shelter parts briefly, and Herring glances at the bloody robe at his feet. It remains inert, and he goes back to contemplating the rain and the night.