JaceBeleren — Roleplayer Guild

Lore for the game will be stored on this 0th post, as it comes too close to the 150,000 character limit to be stored on the first post. I would like players to read through it, but completely at their own pace. In the original book, it's about sixty pages, and like I said, it's close to the character limit.

(In the words of its creator. Feel free to skim read, or even skip sections. There's a lot here.)

Writing about a culture that lived and died in the primeval age — before Atlantis saw its great rise and mu was still a distant dream — is no easy task. Theirs was a brief time, before the return of the sorcerer - kings and the bloody centuries that followed. Still, for a moment, the world was theirs. Or so they thought. They called themselves “the Ven.” Translated, the word means “all of us” or even just “we.” They called the world around them “Shanri;” a word meaning, “the Great Enemy,” giving a vivid clue as to how the ven viewed the world around them. In this chapter, I’m going to talk about Shanri and the ven. I won’t spend too much time on history; enough of that is already known and documented. Instead, I’d like to discuss the world of the moment, the world as they saw it. This is the Age of Clandestine Blood, the height of ven culture. The pinnacle. Standing high enough, close enough, to feel the heat on their fingertips as they reached to touch the sun. Just moments before they fell fast into the chasm of unforgiving darkness.

Almost everyone knows the story. For thousands of years, the sorcerer-kings—the mysterious aelva danna—made war against each other on an unimaginable scale. Using armies and eldritch sorcery, they almost destroyed the world, but instead, destroyed themselves. What they left behind was a shattered remnant of the world they created. The servitor race called the ven dug themselves up and out of the rubble. The world they found was nothing like the world they knew. At long last, they were free from the aelva danna, free from magical slavery, free to make their own destiny. It would take almost two centuries to re-build, but every step was worth it. The world now looks completely different from the world of the sorcerer-kings. During their time, the land was rich and plentiful, a vast pangaea full of life and wonder. Now, the world is shattered, torn and mutated by sorcerous warfare. All that remains is a spiraling chain of archipelagos filled with mutant flora and fauna.
Bred to be industrious, the ven began rebuilding. The remaining armies of the aelva danna gobbled up land. Led by the surviving generals, the armies held their territories with military might, promises of protection and threats of violence. The warlords were strengthened with their knowledge of ironworking, knowledge exclusive to the noble caste. Iron is one of the rarest elements on Shanri. Noble families looking high and low for new sources of the precious metal. Soon thereafter, civilization began to get under way again. Farmers returned to their work, learning how to woo their crops from the newly-changed soil. Glass blowers and brewers, bankers and blacksmiths all returned to their trades, almost oblivious to the wars around them. A high king was chosen from among the nobles: a man who was wise, kind, and honorable. His family ruled the ven for almost ten generations… until the corruption of the sorcerer-kings returned. The promise of their power was too great, even for the greatest of ven. The remaining nobles drew together to overthrow him and his Bloodline, resulting in a deadly war that lasted over ten years. When the war was over, the king was overthrown and his family in disgrace, but there was a price to be paid. The king cursed all who betrayed him. “The Betrayer Curse” settled on the heads of the noble families; a curse that would last one thousand generations. Almost two centuries of warfare between the land-owning nobles eventually led to a system of non-violent settlement. This settlement led to the foundation of a Senate; a place where all may bring grievance and issue before the land-owning nobility. Each noble was given a certain number of votes based on his lands and title. When issues are brought before the Senate, the nobles vote on the best course of action. Now, two centuries after the Curse fell on their heads, ven culture has been born again like a rose from the rubble. The ven not only maintain what they have, but send out explorers to chart the outer territories, looking for new lands to conquer and new resources to claim as their own. The common folk continue to live as they always have: as vassals under a ruling class that regards them as little more than property. The growing merchant class bumps into the culture’s artificial limits as commerce blossoms. And the nobles continue to play their eternal games of warfare, intrigue and espionage. After countless centuries, the ven have established themselves as masters of Shanri. Or so they believe. But the last two centuries have been turbulent. A brief outline follows.

Two centuries past, the ven were ruled by an Emperor. His name was Jaymen Steele, Earl of Blayloch, Blooded of the Elk, patriarch of the Steele family. His rule was hard, but not harsh. His mercy was rare, but predictable. He was, by all accounts, a good Emperor. He was also the last. As his Solace approached, Steele began to seek ways to delay the great sleep, or prevent it entirely. This single occupation eventually turned into a passion, then an obsession. An obsession that drove him willingly into the arms of madness. The Betrayer War brought together the combined forces of all Houses against the Emperor. So great was his might, those in his own House turned against him, and even that great Strength was barely enough to defeat Steele. Decades of sorcerous research empowered him beyond imagination. When he was defeated, a council of nobles gathered to cast the course of the future. No ven should ever again be declared Emperor. More, that the House of the Elk be held at half-shroud. A warning if they should ever demonstrate the hubris of their Blood again. Sorcery was outlawed, except for the Blooded of the Serpent who were allowed to study the Forbidden Art for the purposes of never allowing any future abuse of power. The Betrayer War forever changed the face of Shanri. Steele’s researches unlocked old doors that should have never been opened. The land was filled with ancient horrors, terrible and unspeakable. The Blooded of the Falcon gave up their own lands to serve as “roadmen,” protecting the common people against the horrors unleashed by Steele’s ambition. The House of the Bear, most deeply wounded by the war, retreated to the mountains to heal.

Over the next century, the Blooded of the Wolf moved quickly to consolidate their power and fill the vacuum left behind by an empty throne. The House of the Fox did the same, but met with quick resistance from the Adrente wolves. A second war erupted, but it did not find its end on the battlefield. Instead, the war was ended on the floor of the newly created Senate. The Senate adopted what would come to be known as the War Amendment (taken from Jonan Drax’s ancient Laws) forbidding any noble from gathering armies. The nobility was permitted to keep “a small personal guard for the purposes of security and protection,” but otherwise, no soldiers, no garrisons, and no armies. Needless to say, the ven reacted to the amendment in their own way. They started gathering armies. Because a noble was allowed a “small personal guard,” the ven began acquiring soldiers for that very purpose. The definition of “small” varied from noble to noble, from twenty armed men to as many as one hundred or more. After all, according to the Law, nobles were also required to protect their vassals. Because vassals are property, they are—legally—an extension of the noble’s person. And so, in a moment of pure irony, “personal protection” became the key phrase that allowed the nobility to raise armies. But waging war was still illegal. And in reaction to that clause, espionage and assassination became the primary cause of death among nobles in Shanri. For seventy-five years, the death toll became almost epidemic. The primary method of assassination was poison, providing an anonymous method of doing away with powerful enemies. Thanks to another amendment passed by the Senate, dueling transformed from a messy and bloody exercise into pure ritual. The Dueling Act forbade casual Swordplay, requiring proper procedure for the ven’s most deadly art. From all this bloodshed, the Wolf and Fox developed the rules for duels, refining them as they murdered each other. Warfare occurred in the courts, civilized and ritualized, but still just as bloody.

“This storm knows us,” Uvand Philo wrote. “It knows our names.” The Storm, dubbed “the Anguish” by those who lived through it, ravaged all of Shanri. It first appeared a century ago, seemingly willful, seemingly knowing, all too deadly. A murderous Storm. It did indeed seem to know their names.
Ever since that day, the Storm returns, seeking the Blood of the ven. At first, they were unprepared, their homes and villages and crops wrecked. With no foreknowledge or understanding of what they were dealing with, the ven suffered. Their only warning a distant howling wind like the cry of a wounded animal and the slowly darkening sky. Many ven moved into the ancient ruins of the sorcererkings for shelter. For generations, those buildings remained empty out of fear of what may lay within, but fear of a present danger trumped the fear of the past. The ven cleaned out the vast hallways and rooms, seeking shelter from the Storm. But one ven sought truth rather than shelter. “The Storm knows our names,” he wrote. “We shall return the favor.” His name was Uvand Philo. Blooded of the Serpent, Duke of Ychara, Philo spent all his waking days searching for the origin of the Storm and all his nights communing with the suaven, seeking their Wisdom. It took him fifty years, right up to the edge of Solace, but in the end, he found what he was looking for. He went to a particular aelven danna ruin with three others. Of the four, only one returned. Danaria Del, Blooded of the Falcon. She knew the Storm’s name and she brought it back… but only for those of her Blood. Since then, the Blooded of the Falcon alone know the Storm’s name. They call upon the Storm and send it back, although sometimes its fury is too great for even those who know its secret.

The Storm accomplished two things. First, it made the House of the Falcon—mostly disregarded by the other Houses—a vital and essential part of every noble’s life. Second, it moved the nobles into the deserted mansions and castles of the sorcerer-kings. Many scholars mark this last move as the beginning of a new era for the ven. An era of comfort, security and overconfidence. The great lords—Earls and Dukes—began looking at expanding their domains. This led to smaller nobles—the Barons—looking for allies wherever they could find them. Of course, this required a degree of trust no ven was willing to give. The Barons needed a solution… and they found it in the libraries of the sorcerer kings. Sorcery, long since made illegal by the Senate, found a resurgence in the minor Houses of Shanri. It was Vudru Kouser, Baron of Etrain, Blooded of the Serpent who first brought the Blood Oath into the courts. His tiny lands were surrounded by enemies and he needed an ally he could trust. Using a secret he swore never to reveal, he forged a pact with five other Barons, a sorcerous oath that bound them together. The Oath, sealed with their own Blood, not only ensured no Baron would dare break the Oath, but also gave each noble secrets they swore never to reveal. Kouser’s Oath found its way across Shanri in a matter of months. In almost every court, Barons were taking the Oath, finding allies with sorcery they could not find on their own. The Barons were united, and because their Oaths were made in secret, no Earl or Duke was willing to step into the complicated web of alliances. A stalemate no one dared disturb.

The most dangerous kind of talk wanders the halls of the Senate. The Earls have been whispering of a “high king.” Not an Emperor. A king. A monarch with independent powers, answerable to the Senate. While Shanri’s greatest nobles (the distinguished “Earls”) conspire to make such a title, they know the Barons will never agree. There are not enough votes in the Senate to pass such an amendment. That makes some Earls consider less peaceful options. Meanwhile, exploration into ruins deeper in the world and further from the hub of civilization have uncovered dangerous secrets. New sorceries, unspeakable monsters, and treasures of breathtaking Beauty. As this news makes its way through the courts, more nobles sponsor expeditions into the uncharted realms, hoping to bring back treasures and marvels to impress and awe the court. With the import of such valuables, piracy is at an all time high. Whereas before, the ven feared the orks of the sea, now they brave the waters. The seas are now filled with ships flying the colors of the Houses… and flying black flags: anonymous badges of piracy.

You know the past. Let’s talk about the present. At least, the world as seen through the pages of a ven pillow book. Of Shanri itself, no ven maps survive. We have little idea of its geography or topography. Knowing what we do of the Atlanteans, it is safe to say the world we know now could have looked much different in the era of the ven. We do know the sorcerer-kings all but wrecked the world, leaving in their wake disparate land masses filled with dangerous flora and fauna. Countless eons of experimentation and mutation turned the world around the ven into an enemy. They had to cut through hungry plants and Cunning creatures just to settle their homes. We also do not even know the locations of the Houses. Most pillow books take place in a kind of fantastic version of Shanri itself—a “mythic Shanri,” if you will. Different sources contradict each other on exactly where the Houses were situated. It is entirely possible strife among the Houses was so ruthless that land changed from hand to Bloody hand on a regular basis. At the very least, that is what the books suggest. And that’s a truth we’ll be maintaining here. The various archipelagos where the ven lived did seem to surround a central “minicontinent” called Q’naldinir (a double meaning: “Golden Center under the Sky” and “Hub of All Revenge”). On Q’naldinir, the Senate was formed, meeting in one of the greatest ruins of the elder age. Poems of its Beauty and awful countenance fill page after page. Weaker ven were said to shudder and stammer in its shadow. I have also found various passages giving credence to the theory that Q’naldinir was also the central point of ven expansion. Other scholars have suggested differently, but I have found little evidence for their hypotheses. As I said, the ven carved their homes out of the chaos around them with fire and Sword. The world did not yield itself lightly. Two hundred years of Blood and toil. At the time of this book, their work is still undone. Much of Shanri remains unexplored. Vast jungles and hidden ruins hold many promises. Dangerous promises.

Shanri has a wide diversity of creatures and plant life. None of it was untouched by the sorcerer-kings. Mutations are everywhere. To the ven, these are ork. The word “ork” best translates as “monster.” In the English language, we have many kinds of monsters. Trolls, vampires, hobgoblins, boogeymen. All of these fall under the category of “monster.” Likewise, on the face of Shanri, there are many different kinds of orks. (The ven are lax on the usage of “ork,” especially in terms of plurality. Sometimes, they use “ork” as the plural, and others they use “orks.” I’ve tried to maintain a consistent usage here, but I’m afraid it slips now and then.) On a deeper level, ork means “other” or “outsider.” The context is plain: anything that is not ven is ork. And while we have a distinct hominid impression attached to the word, to the ven, an ork is any living thing that is not ven. It may be bi-pedal, it may be a carnivorous plant, it could also be a spectral force that cannot be entirely seen. Thus, there is also a malicious connotation to the word. Dangerous others are ork. Others that are less dangerous, or even downright safe, are not ork. Instead, they are just ruk. A little word that I’ve translated as “beneath notice.” Like peasants. Ruk.

While orks make up the majority of visible, tangible threats on Shanri, the invisible and intangible should not be underestimated. The ven word for a creature of the invisible world is illdrua. I’ve translated this as “spectre.” (From Latin spectrum, meaning “appearance,” from specere, “to look.”) Not all ven can see into the invisible world. A few can. Others use rituals. But just as ork is a generic term used to describe many different species of monsters, the word “spectre” has the same function. In ven literature, I found a vast amount of references to spectres. Most of these look more like the “hungry spirits” of the Chinese/Japanese variety. They can touch you, but you cannot touch them. And they take. They take because they hunger. They take your eyes, they take your tongue, they take your heart. Hungry. For what they cannot have. Spectres take the form of the ven, but they are not the lost and wandering souls of the ven, because the ven have no souls. At least, that’s what they believe. The entire concept of a soul—a spirit inhabiting the physical body—does not exist in ven metaphysics. Spectres appear like the ven because it pleases them. It pleases them to terrify those who look upon them. A spectre’s true form is terrible to behold. No mortal sees a spectre’s true form and retains his sanity. Spectres haunt the old ruins of the sorcerer-kings and ancient forests. They are not to be trifled with.

A mineral found in Shanri, almost extinct in our own time, orichalcum is also known as the sorcerous or sacred steel. Harder and lighter than iron, items and weapons forged from this material are highly desired by the ven. The secret of working orichalcum is closely held by those who know it; one of Shanri’s greatest mysteries. The most typical use of the sorcerous steel is in Swords. An orichalcum blade can shatter any other weapon, cut through stone, and slice a falling silk handkerchief. Not a blemish on the blade. It is the anathema of spectres: the only material that can touch and injure them. This makes weapons and wards made from orichalcum highly prized, indeed. Swords, charms, arrows, medallions. Highly prized. Orichalcum appears as a dark red metal, clearly different from iron, copper and tin. (The ven have not yet discovered the amalgam we call “steel.”) It is cold to the touch and has been described as “holding the slightest vibration.” It is not mined but created by a ritual known to only a few, merging gold and silver, bound together by Blood. Gold and silver. Sun and Moon. Will and imagination. The vital instruments of magic.

Some creatures familiar to our own time were also familiar to the ven. Although some are so foreign, so alien, scholars cannot find contemporaries. A few animals, however, the ven regard as sacred. Sacred in an almost totemic way. In fact, I think its safe to ditch the “almost.” For the Houses, these animals are holy. Only the Blooded may hunt a sacred animal, and even then, only on holy days. It is said the ven traded something to these animals allowing them to survive the destruction the sorcerer-kings brought upon themselves. Because of that bargain, these animals share a special kinship with the Blooded. When they are hunted on their sacred  ays, it is said eating of their flesh brings Strength and healing. Of course, the prey must be killed in a specific, ritualistic way. Otherwise, the hunter shows disrespect to the holy animal. You can find them in nearby boxed text. All of them are similar to their modern counterparts, but larger, stronger, and smarter. Just like the ven.

From ven reports, the Shanri bear shares many characteristics with the American grizzly. It stands nearly twelve feet tall, has a predator’s Cunning, but is not generally carnivorous, preferring fish and berries. It will eat predators and has been seen hunting larger animals such as elk, moose and deer if forced to. Bears move as family units and fight with tactics. They hibernate in the winter. One of my favorite stories is the Blooded of the Bear who was lost in the mountains during winter. Stumbling on a cave of sleeping bears, he settled down and woke in spring. When he awoke, he was alone and unharmed but remembered vivid dreams of hunting with the family of bears.

Shanri boar stand three feet at the haunches. Uvandir. The wrathful and stubborn. Boars remember. Living in small families, digging, knocking down trees while they rub down their skin. Tasty, but dangerous. And they remember.

The Shanri cat, (kachka) is a curious creature. We know the ven didn’t spend a lot of time domesticating animals, and yet, there was the cat. Illustrations show us many breeds of cats, large and small. We also know the ven suspected cats could communicate with a sophisticated unspoken language. Some even claimed to be able to speak to cats, but these folks were dismissed as we dismiss faith healers. Well, at least, in my house we dismiss them.
The ven keep cats for a single purpose: they believe cats can see into the invisible world. When a cat suddenly reacts to something the ven cannot see, they assume the cat is reacting to a disturbance in the invisible world. The ven also believed cats had sorcery of their own. Disappearing at will, passing through doors, charming those with weak minds. Such is the mind of a ven: full of superstition and nonsense.

There is talk of khanurdante, the Great Elk of Shanri. A magnificent creature, pure white, antlers that shine like stars. King of all creatures, the ven give it powers beyond those of mortals and orks. It is some kind of source of terrible power. Many have quested to see it. All come back changed men, unable to speak of the experience. Visibly changed. Elk are sacred to all Houses, not just those who wear the heraldry. No ven hunt them, although spotting an elk on a hunt is said to bring good fortune. Killing an elk brings... something else.

Without domesticated canines, the falcon is the primary hunting animal for the ven. Vigilant. Courageous. Quick. A hunter without equal. Speed. Shivu. The falcon. It is said those of the Thorne Blood perform a secret ritual with their hunting animals, allowing them to see what the falcon sees. Ven literature is rife with such rumors. Of course, that’s all they are. Rumors. Of course.

It is said the q’al, the Shanri fox, can change its form. A creature of desire. A creature that cannot help but love. Foxwives, a legend we inherited from the ven, are common in the literature of the time. Most pillow books at least have some sort of reference to the fox and her ability to charm a man beyond reason. The twist on the ven version of this ancient tale is that the fox can only charm someone who has already won its heart. Foxes are not hunted in Shanri. The ven know better. As beautiful as the fox may be, her anger is even greater. And the fox does not gain its Revenge through force or martial means. Oh, no. A fox hurts you where the wound will never heal. In the heart.

There are three distinct breeds of equine on Shanri, some considered noble, others not as much. Ilderim, the noble breed are used for riding by the noble class. Tall and strong, their speed unparalleled by any other creature. The grusha, smaller (and by all accounts, uglier) horses, are used for pulling carriages. Finally, mules and donkeys are used by the peasantry for pulling carts and farm use.

The Blood of Mwrr trace their lineage back to Serpent (avala), a mysterious figure in ven mythology. Like most primal animals, it was said Serpent had great power, but he gave that power up for Wisdom, surrendering it to the Well at the Center of the World. He was asked to give up his arms. He did. He was asked to give up his legs. He did. His ears. His beautiful hair. Then, his poison. That was one thing Serpent would not surrender. And so, he carries the Wisdom of the world… but not all of it. And he is cursed. Every question he answers leads to more questions. The ven regard serpents with awe and respect. They are venomous creatures, black scaled and quick. It is said their eyes can charm the weak-willed. I have taken that tale as fact.

We have many breeds of spider in our own time. Not so much in the time of the ven. Spiders are small, spiders are huge. The great spiders, deep in the jungles. Patient and deadly. Communicating by vibrating their webs. Prey. Danger. The ven word for spider is agotha. “I wait.” Deep in the jungles of Shanri sit the Great Spiders. Powerful and terrible, larger than a man, as old as the sorcerer-kings. Great is their knowledge for those who are humble enough to kneel. And bring sacrifice.

While many scholars translate the word eshanu as “bee,” I personally prefer translating it as “wasp.” Eshanu are not the little honey bee we are familiar with. True, they live in hives and make honey, but the connotation of “bee” doesn’t carry the same kind of danger that “wasp” brings with it. A single sting from an eshanu can be deadly. More than one sting is deadly. But the honey… intoxicating. Honey is a sacred food among the ven. If kept in sealed pots, honey never stales, never spoils. Honey makes everything better. Tasting like nothing else. A sacred food guarded by poison. Could anything appeal to the ven more?

The closest Shanri comes to domesticated canine is the wolf, the drende. Four feet at the haunches, two hundred pounds. Teeth and cLaws. Burning eyes, bristled back. The Shanri wolf hunts in packs, bringing down large animals (like bears), eating quickly and moving on. Migratory. The wolf is always on the move, but if you know his secrets, you can always find him. Some ven keep wolves on their grounds as a way to discourage spies. These creatures are far from “pets,” although those of the Blood are said to keep a kind of kinship with the hunters. “No Adrente has ever been killed by a wolf.” So the story goes.
A dream. Naked. Running under the moonlight. Blood on your lips. Pain. Teeth on your throat. A word, whispered in your ears. Awakening with the Bloody scars on your back. Running with wolves.

And then, there are dragons. Avanadande. But not the cave-dwelling, virgin snatching, gold hoarding kind. Something very different. If she’s lucky—very lucky—a ven may see a dragon once in her life. Perhaps only once. And only if she’s paying attention…
In a moment. A brief flash of a moment. For there are moments when words fail. The limitations of language simply cannot contain the sublime truth. These moments — these precious moments — when all the world falls away, all time falls away, when the moment rests for a thousand years, lifting all the weight from your heart, that we can feel the lingering after presence of a dragon. Dragons are not physical creatures, but the manifestation of moments. Moments of power, moments of grief, moments of love, moments of hate, moments of hope. Some ven scholars speculate that the ven themselves create dragons: the raw emotional energy, the ven summons an aura of power so palpable all who stand in its aura can feel it. Like an ache in the bones. A lightning bolt down the spine. A ven can live his whole life without ever knowing that sensation, but once it happens, there is no forgetting it. It remains, a reminder of the split second when the world paused, took a deep breath, and let wonder seep into its skin.

The sorcerer-kings left behind more than just biological monstrosities. Amazing structures defying all the ven understand of architecture and geometry. Great and terrible. Frightening and beautiful. Houses, mansions, castles. Underground fortresses. These are the amazing falin duada. “Puzzle Houses.” The ruins of the sorcerer-kings. The falin duada are not only puzzles but prizes. Each lord dreams of making his stronghold from one of the old ruins. A house that guards itself. A house with a will of its own. And the ven know any will can be tamed. Time, patience and Cunning. Falin duada come in all shapes and sizes, but one truth always remains. The doors are tall. The steps are tall. The corridors wide. Ancient artifacts linger within. So do spectres and orks. To claim your own puzzle house, you’ll need a small army—I mean, personal guard—to clean the place out. Once inside, you’ll find all sorts of treasures. Ancient documents written in the Old Tongue. Artifacts of untold power. Secret histories. But like I said, to get the goodies, you have to get by the guards. And not everyone has the courage for that kind of action.

Getting around Shanri is no easy task. Even in the more civilized regions, orks linger on the tree line, waiting for unsuspecting travelers. Going anywhere alone is suicide. Unless you have the Blood of the Falcon. Then, it’s just brave. Caravan is the most common form of travel in Shanri. The ven use mules and other beasts of burden to pull their carriages, wagons and carts. They used Swords and pole arms to guard their carriages, wagons and carts. And bandits. Let’s not forget bandits. Meanwhile, on the great blue, the orks of the sea include a wide variety of terrors, making traveling between Shanri’s archipelagos equally dangerous. The ven connected a few of the closer archipelagos with bridges, but few are strong or wide enough to support caravans. Barges move cargo between the closer land masses, but ships are needed for longer journeys. Of course, moving cargo overseas isn’t just dangerous because of orks, but because of piracy. Many nobles secretly employ pirates to raid foreign trade, splitting the profits with the corsairs. No cannons. No muskets. No pistols. Just bows, arrows, Swords, pole arms and muscle. And rum. Yo ho.

Travelers can stop in local villages where the hospitality of the common people will feed and comfort them during a long night away from the secure castle. There’s a headman with limited authority, usually assigned by a sheriff or baron. He carries no weapons but has the authority of the Law to protect him. A village usually has a source of water, at least a few local farms and a small retinue of craftsmen to keep the place going. An elder council for important decisions. Because of its rural surroundings, villagers have to deal with orks quite a bit. Without the legal authority to wield weapons, they resort to farm implements. Pitchforks, shovels and the like.

Townships are grown-up villages. More organization, more bureaucracy. A mayor, a local sheriff, a small town guard (armed with tools such as saps, staves, and pitchforks). More farms, more farmers. Merchants. Blacksmith, cooper, baker, cobbler. Nightwatchmen. Perhaps even a shrine or two. Maybe even a temple. But certainly enough sharpened iron to keep orks at bay.

And of course, there’s the hub of civilization. Most ven cities are built on ruins left behind by the sorcerer-kings. The buildings are larger but then again, so are the walls. The ven haven’t quite figured out how the sorcerer-kings made the walls surrounding the cities so tall. Or at those angles. And what exactly is that they’re made out of? It isn’t stone. It isn’t mortar. Even half ruined walls are better than the walls the ven could build. Once inside those gates and walls, the city seems like a thriving entity onto itself. Merchants on every street, screaming their particular calls. Everything is for sale. Fruits, vegetables, milk, mead, wine, shoes, sex, smoked ork meat, a song. You want to find it, you can. Cities are usually governed by a local lord or a magistrate with guards to assist him in keeping the peace. Because of the rather visceral nature of ven vengeance, there is surprisingly little crime in the cities. Or maybe that’s just because the criminal element knows the exact price to keep officials quiet.

The ven enjoy all kinds of food and drink, but as with most things, the most common foods depend on which part of the social order you belong. Peasants eat lots of vegetables. Beans, peas, carrots, corn, peppers, potatoes, radishes. The usual. Peasants also drink water, milk and brew their own beer. Peasants may not hunt game. Because they are not allowed to carry weapons, most don’t mind. Nobles like fruits and meats. They grow orchards with orange and cherry trees, blackberry bushes and grow peanuts. Nobles never drink water, but enjoy a wide stock of alcoholic beverages. Wines are very popular as is rum. A noble never drinks beer, except when there is nothing else but water and milk. And even then, sour cat piss might be a better alternative. After all, beer’s pretty much the same thing.

The ven use three languages: the High, the Vulgar, and the Old Tongue. The nobility employ the High Tongue, a shifting and cryptic language. Servants are trained to speak it, forbidden from speaking anything else while in the presence of the nobility. The language is filled with double and secret meanings, changing its shape and form with the whims of those who speak it. A kind of spastic slang altering with the whim of the courts. With such a quirky tongue, it is difficult to determine exactly how the language worked, let alone how it sounded. Each Season, the most influential and fashionable of nobles decide on changes of phrase, changes of pronunciation, changes of meaning. They enforce their will through sheer linguistic bullying. If you don’t speak as they do, they simply do not speak to you. Each Season. The Vulgar Tongue remains in the streets and taverns and theaters of Shanri, but forbidden in the presence of the Blooded. From what we can tell, the Vulgar Tongue is a sing-song language designed for its tenor rather than its clarity. A ravishing language. A passionate language. A language of the heart, not of the mind. Finally, the Old Tongue. This is the language of the sorcerer-kings. The language the peasants never hear. Kept in complete secrecy, the ven use the Old Tongue for sorcery and ritual.

We should probably spend a few moments on horses. Like the Sword, a Blooded ven’s steed is a symbol of pride and power. And, like the Sword, this particular symbol is kept only for the worthy. The peasantry must live without. There are three distinct categories of equines in Shanri. The first are the ilderim. They belong only to the nobility. Next are the grusha. These are the animals used by the peasantry. Lastly, are the other beasts of burden: donkeys, mules, and oxen.

There is no direct translation for the word ilderim. The closest scholars can come to is “steed” or “high-bred horse.” The term “horse,” when used in ven documents, refers only to the ilderim. As I said earlier, the ildirim belong to the Blooded. Only the Blooded. They are worth thirty times one grusha. For a peasant to kill an ilderim is punishable by death (as if there’s any other punishment for a peasant). If one of the Blooded kills another ven’s steed, it is a horrendous insult. The ilderim are tall. Tall enough to accommodate the impressive stature of their riders. They stand about 16 hands (64 inches) at the shoulder with slender bodies, graceful legs, and a high tail carriage. Their refined heads, set on proud necks, are made all the more elegant by long, flowing manes; large, intelligent eyes, and short, alert ears. Their coats are sleek and come in a variety of solid colors comparable to those of modern horses: bay, chestnut, gray, black, palomino, etc. White markings on the legs and faces are particularly prized. Ven raise ilderim on luxurious stud farms managed by highly trained and well trusted staff. The ilderim are allowed to breed only once every three years, and then, only in the spring, so that when the foal is born the following spring, he can graze on the most lush pastures that Shanri has to offer. Riding is Shanri’s primary means of transportation as well as entertainment. Horse races are a spectacle held in most courts—with significant wagering, of course. Hunts are held on horseback, the ven using riding equipment worthy of their steeds. Heavily embroidered saddle blankets, quilted pads of silk, velvet or other fine fabrics. The saddle—complete with girth and stirrups—made of tooled leather, embroidered fabric, ivory, and precious metals, sometimes ornamented with bells and gemstones. Plumes, tassels, bells, precious metals, and beadwork. The horses themselves are not nailed on, but shod with metal shoes fastened to their feet like a sort of sandal. All Blooded children are taught to ride and only on ilderim. These noble steeds are never used as draft animals, never put in harness—with a single exception. Chariot racing.

Again, there is no direct translation for the word grusha, but the closest is “people’s animal.” It is also called a pony, cob, or tarpan in ven writing. In comparison to the ilderim, the grusha were small – never taller than 14 hands (56 inches) at the shoulder. They had thick, stout bodies; wide crested necks; and short, stocky legs. Their ears were rather long, and their eyes small, placed near the top of the head. Their manes and tails, which were coarse and sparse, were almost always black; and their rough coats only came in shades of tan, grayish-yellow (dun), mouse, and brown. They had no white markings. They had hard little feet that did not require shoes. The grusha were hardy animals that were often required to glean what nutrition they could from sparse pasture and harvested fields. They were allowed to breed as the farmers saw fit, and feral herds of them were not uncommon. They were sometimes used as meat, but were more commonly used by the peasantry as a riding and pack animal (along with donkeys and mules). The peasant saddle – when one was used at all – was rarely more than a simple saddle pad that may or may not have had a girth or stirrups. It does not appear that the ven used the horse collar. Instead, they used yokes and neckbands. The trouble with this is that horses pulling large weights without a collar are very inefficient. As a result, for pulling heavy loads and for plowing, oxen were used more often than equines. It was not uncommon to harness a donkey, mule, or grusha alongside an ox for heavy pulling.

Carts and carriages in Shanri are somewhat primitive, with a single, long shaft extending from the axle to which a pair of animals are harnessed.  Most carts and carriages (and chariots) have only two wheels. Four-wheeled vehicles are not commonly used. Carts are for working, for carrying loads, for carrying peasants. Not for carrying ven. Carts are pulled by donkeys, mules, or grusha. Mules are highly-prized as driving animals. Hybrid vigor makes them stronger than grusha and larger and heartier than donkeys. When they choose not to ride, the ven use carriages. (So did very rich peasants who were acting above their station.) Carriages were used primarily for the infirm, the elderly, and for those wishing to make a statement of decadence. A carriage holds between one and four passengers. Carriages are ornate, usually a combination of carved wood and fine, embroidered fabric, pulled by a pair of large mules.

And now, with the setting done, ink and pain still drying on the canvas, we turn our attention to the stars of this little spectacle. Still unrehearsed, they walk onto the stage naked except for their bravado. Playing at what they are not, overwhelmed by what they might be, we see them for what they truly are.

For biological facts, I’m drawing from the only sources we have: the pillow books. We must assume there’s at least some exaggeration going on here, but since the game is about the ven found in their literature, let’s use those numbers. The ven look a lot like us. Arms, legs, heads, fingers, toes. I do not know if the term “mammal” is appropriate. Designed from scratch by the sorcerer-kings to be servants, lovers and warriors. The average ven male and female appear to stand between five foot ten and six foot three with variations on either end. The oldest character I can find in any of the literature seems to be approximately 100 years old. I’m setting that as the cap. The books also demonstrate ven heroes and heroines performing incredible acts of physicality. Lifting, jumping, pulling, pushing. On the other hand, a single knife to the heart or throat qualifies as a mortal wound. While they may be stronger and faster, they certainly seem just as mortal. From the minimal mentions of pregnancy in their literature, scholars have come to the conclusion that the ven pregnancies lasted approximately three to four months. This comes from two passages from ven pillow books, both making mention of pregnancy lasting “a Season” (four months).

The variety of ven is as mixed as homo sapiens, although there are a few common descriptors. But before we get into all that, here’s an important note on a character’s appearance. Ven authors used physical characteristics as identifiers; a kind of short-hand the author uses to identify particular kinds of characters. Blue-eyed characters are usually inquisitive while gold-eyed characters fall more into the trickster category. Villainous or untrustworthy characters are identified with red hair, pale skin and grey eyes. The more of these traits the character has, the more villainous she is.
Ven skin is dark. Not black, but dark. If a ven walked down our own streets today, he would most definitely not be considered Caucasian. Perhaps some biracial heritage, but not Caucasian. Ven skin color varies from deep tan to darker red. Eye colors always sound fantastic and spectacular. Ice blue, gold, silver, russet and sometimes black. Ven hair is anywhere from gold to shimmering red to midnight black. It is usually curly (like the kind found in the Mediterranean) and wild while straight hair signifies a more serious kind of character. I found very few blondes.

The ven age, but they do not die from it. The ven never get sick. The ven do not believe in a soul. They wouldn’t even understand the concept. For the ven, there are only two sources of death: accident and deliberate murder. The ven do not die of old age. Instead, they pass into the Quiet Winter. Something they call “Solace.” The word is q’va. Sometimes translated as “the Stillness,” a ven begins showing signs of Solace in his late fifties. The bones begin to ache. The muscles do not respond as quickly as they used to. Vivid dreams. Bloody dreams. Seeming memories. As the ven age, they grow taller and thinner. Their eyes turn a shade of gold. Widening. The bones ache because they are changing. Thinner. Taller. Many ven approaching Solace also demonstrate peculiar habits. Obsession with tiny details. A deep passion for a particular kind of fruit. A constant and knowing grin. In the later stages, the body begins excreting a thick, sticky white substance. Almost like hair, from every part of the body. The ven call this vaq’in: “webs of dreaming.” The muscles continue to slow down. Voice drops. Difficult to move. Sleeping longer every night. Physical desires dying. Food, drink, sex. Only sleep. Where the dreams wait. Calling. Finally, the body surrenders. Solace. 
Deep in sleep, the vaq’in envelops the ven in a kind of cocoon. It solidifies, making the ven inside nearly invulnerable from the outside world. No ven knows what happens inside that cocoon, but they do know no ven has ever awoken from Solace. Not yet. Still, the ven know something is happening. For if a ven sleeps close to her dreaming ancestors, they can hear voices calling to them. Voices from Solace. Voices and dreams. Oracular visions. Cryptic conversations. These are the suaven. The sleeping ones. The dreaming. Some day, we will join them. And some day, we will awaken.

The ven are vulnerable to zsanstozs, the Final Sin. Murder. While they seem stronger and faster than us, a cold shaft of iron through the heart or drawn across the throat is enough to kill even the healthiest specimen. Murder and accident are the only ways ven die of natural causes, and both are events of significance. Robbed of Solace. Robbed of Eternity. Revenge.

There is another option. The call of the blackest despair. Complete defeat. The Loneliest Death. Suicide is rare in ven culture, but it is present. And even more than natural death, suicide is a source of true grief. Like everything else in their lives, ven view suicide as a ritualistic, symbolic act. An act with true meaning. Not an act of passion, but an act of intention. An act of Tragedy and Beauty.

The ven divide their society into two castes: the Blooded and the unblooded.

Powerful. Intelligent. Cruel. In their Blood is the sorcery of the old ones, the unspeakable sorcerer-kings, long dead but far from forgotten. Taller. Faster. Almost angelic. They look down on their lesser counterparts, not out of irrational emotion, but cold-Blooded logic. They are the strong, the powerful. You own what you hold. Blessed by secret ritual, the Blooded—hajkalay in the ven tongue—rule the ven civilization of Shanri by right of force. The ritual that turns an ordinary ven into one of the Blooded has remained a secret for… well, no ven really knows how long. That would require looking back through time to the past, and that’s a difficult thing for most ven. Looking back means looking in the direction of the sorcerer-kings, and that’s not done. Speaking of the past is taboo. And living in it. Dukes and barons, they own the land, bless the less fortunate with their mercy, and play their elaborate games while the unblooded toil for the pleasures of their masters.

As I said, I’ll be using Shara as an example all through this book. So, when it comes time to illustrate a noble’s life, let’s use her. Let’s start with a simple question. Why is Shara a noble? Two answers. Blood and Land. First, her Blood burns with the Fox. When she was a girl, she underwent the Ritual of Blooding: a sorcerous procedure separating her from the common folk. Without that ritual, no ven is Blooded. Second, Shara owns land, but unlike their modern counterparts, ven nobles do not inherit land. They fight for it. For the ven, the concept of possession is a bit different than our own. The Law states that you only own what you can keep. If someone steals something from Shara, she wasn’t clever enough to keep it. And no ven noble would ever admit to being less than clever. That’s an insult to yourself. Admitting you had been taken, fooled, tricked. Never. No nay never. And so, when items are stolen, the subject almost never comes up. The shame of admitting you’ve been put on the wrong end of a trick, that someone got the better of you, is just too great. Just admit to yourself you were beaten and move on. This is important when it comes to Shara’s lands. As long as she can prove they belong to her—by protecting them from other nobles—the lands belong to her. A noble cannot simply inherit his land from another. He must fight for his lands! Blood makes the soil rich! Blood makes the soil rich! Blood makes the soil rich!
The more you say it, the more you must believe it. (But don’t overdo it. Bad form.) Therefore, when a noble dies, his lands become disputed. Any noble with the Strength to take them is fully within his rights to do so. This means the nobles who have an heir in mind put actions in motion ensuring their heir’s success. Of course, just because you have a plan doesn’t mean it will succeed. And, as Lessons teaches us, you don’t have to be smart to have a plan.

How does Shara interact with those who belong to her? When Shara Yvarai walks in the villages and cities of her land, she never pays for anything. After all, to her peasants, she provides protection from the horrors of the Great Enemy and the greed of enemy neighbors. (The ven word for “neighbor” is also the word for “enemy.”) She can go to a blacksmith and demand a new Sword, go to a farmstead and demand food, go to a leatherworker and demand new boots. She provides a valuable service: she protects them from orks and neighboring nobles looking to take over the land. Because of her generosity, because of her kindness, because of her compassion, Shara’s people love her and gladly exchange their labor for hers. The only thing that matters to Shara—from an economic point of view—is her harvest. Because of the feudal contract between herself and her subjects, she retains a majority of their labor. They pay her in spices, wines, food, lumber and stone: the fruits of their efforts. She uses those to make contracts with neighboring nobles, hire personal guards, roadmen and other officials to protect her roads and villages. She also uses it to expand her domain. A stronger domain leads to more security for her subjects. More security leads to happier subjects. When outside her own lands, Shara’s situation changes. If Shara goes to another domain and demands service from a merchant, tradesman or craftsman, the peasant may answer, “I am already under the shadow of my lord.” This indicates he cannot cease his current service and the noble has to find a different peasant to bully around. Of course, the noble can answer such insolence with violence… at a risk. More on that in a bit. But let’s go back to Shara’s own domain for a moment. Shara has the authority to “protect” her subjects any way she sees fit. If that means fire and pain, she’s within her rights to do so… but there’s a downside to mistreating peasants. Unhappy peasants lead to subtle revolts. Resource shortages. Spies for foreign enemies. Missing sheriffs. The liege who only uses the stick and never offers a carrot learns this lesson. Sooner than he expects.

Ruk. That’s what we call them. Lesser. Inferior. Unmentionable. They are the peasants, the merchants, the workers. Trading their toil for safety. Trading their sweat for safety. No Heart. No Life. No Blood. Among the unblooded, we have the classic peasant, but we also have a new kind of peasant. Proud dirt. We’ll talk about them in a moment as well.

Veth. A poetic interpretation may be, “People of the Soil.” That was a common way to address ven peasants in older texts. More recently, scholars have been employing the less politically correct translation. Veth. Dirt. The peasant caste is mostly illiterate. Mostly. There are peasants who can read, but not many, and the nobility doesn’t go out of its way to change that fact. This makes the ven economy difficult because almost every economic transaction involves a contract. Almost. Most peasant communities have developed a “share and share alike” economy. The blacksmith repairs everyone’s tools. The farmer shares all his food. The cobbler repairs everyone’s shoes. Hand-me-downs don’t just go from sibling to sibling, but family to family. This is what the ven call tuthallen. I’ve translated this word as “generosity.” The literal meaning is something along the lines of, “What is mine is ours.” Personal possession is still present in peasant culture, but you have to understand the mindset. For the unblooded, an object can only be claimed if someone else acknowledges it is yours. Your mother passes away, for example, and your father—who inherits all her belongings—gives you her favorite shawl. The community recognizes that shawl as yours. This brings up the entire notion of inheritance. But for the moment, understand that among the unblooded, nothing belongs to you unless it has been given to you by someone else. Of course, the sincerity of the gift may go questioned by another, and in that case, the community decides who owns the item. And by “item,” I mean houses, cows, land, forks. Everything. Possessions belong to the community. Peasants also spend most of their time toiling away, proving their worth with labor. When harvest arrives, they surrender nearly everything they produce to the liege while he leaves them enough to survive until the next harvest. To be fair, not all lords and ladies are tyrants. A few—a precious few—treat their peasants well. Enough to be exceptions.
Most peasants never walk a mile away from the place they were born, but a few carry fruits, vegetables, skins and other tradable items to the local faire. However, most peasants do not have enough time to “go to town.” Each Season provides a new opportunity to trade with distant cousins. Or perfect strangers. Trade is the commerce here. A farmer brings his carrots, dried peas and salted ham. A blacksmith has new tools. A carpenter puts up a sign for repairs. Everyone has something to trade. The trick is finding someone with what you want willing to trade for what you’ve got. The peasant caste trades for tools and repairs. Better tools for the farm, repairs for old tools not ready for abandonment. Most of these deals are made on the spot. Once the trade is made, it’s done. No quibbling, no arguing. Done, done, done. That’s the tradition among traders. One says, “Done.” The second echoes his remark. The first says it again. “Done.” “Done.” “Done.” That seals the deal. Once a deal is set, there is no going back. And because verbal deals are quick, nobody needs to argue over it. If you got shafted, you know to deal with a different trader next time. That’s peasant law. Live and learn. And leave me alone. Long-term deals are also available, but only by contract. Most peasants cannot read, so signing long-term contracts is out of the question. A few bring along a literate relative to look over contracts. Few and far between. So a peasant’s life is spent in toil and trade. Toil for his labor, trade for his labor. It isn’t a pretty life, no matter how the poets and playwrights try to make it so. This says enough. Saying more will only soil my tongue.

For merchants in Shanri, the economic situation becomes... a bit murky. Peasants work for their labor. The nobility bleed for their labor. A merchant... he sells the labor of others. Murky. Ven Law has not caught up with the quick rise of the merchant class. Ven who have made a living from the loopholes in the ven economic system. Contracts. It has everything to do with contracts. The merchant class (not caste) arose twenty years ago when a small group of craftsmen realized their goods were worth more than food. “An apple in the stomach is gone tomorrow, yet my knife cuts more apples,” wrote the merchant Tulthande Shen (“Shen, the Blacksmith”). He made the connection that his craft remained.
His idea spread quickly, but quietly. Being a ven of half a mind, he knew such an idea was dangerous, so he kept it to himself and a few others. Twenty years later, his circle of friends has grown, but not by much. He remains one of the most powerful and richest ven in Shanri. But his secret, like most secrets, did not stay in its box for long. The only box that can hold a secret is a coffin. In the era depicted in this game, the merchant class moves closer to eclipsing the nobility. Recognizing goods and services as the prime commodity, they trade for real estate and recognition with the Blooded, earning themselves titles, but not the full status of nobility. The “merchant barons” hold lands bartered from nobles in exchange for goods and services, but no noble has traded away any title higher than baron. Not yet, at least. That moment is yet to come. And no merchant baron has yet to be called “Blooded.” Before that can happen, a murder must take place. That event is also on the horizon. And so, for the merchant barons, they must be content with their borrowed titles. They own land but cannot pass it down to an inheritor. They have title, but not access to the sorcery of the nobility. They have what might be called wealth, but in fact, they are little more than the peasants they look down upon. Shluah veth. “Proud dirt.”

It is possible for the ruk to be raised to the rank of the Blooded. Courage, conviction, loyalty. Proving himself beyond his birth, a peasant may be brought above his own station. A ritual of Blood and trust. It is rare, but it occurs in the literature more than it does in history. Because this is a game concerned with the literature and unconcerned with history, we’ll assume it happens every once in a while. A long while.

From the ruins of the old world came warlords of might and power. They united the ven under banners of war and cleared away the rubble and jungles of Shanri. Staking their claims, they built empires from the dust. Once they were ten. Now, they are six. All others are covered by the black veil of shame. The Senate currently recognizes six unveiled Houses.

Families: Burghe, Steiner, Rusu, Reinhold, Bowen The House of the Bear holds lands far to the North, away from the reach of “civilized” hands. While no Blooded noble would ever say so to his face, the Blooded of the Bear are considered less refined than their southern neighbors. The House of the Bear know this, and could not care less. Legends of the House founder—Jacob Burghe—are told all around Shanri. His Strength and courage are unquestioned, equaled only by his desire to be left alone. When the Betrayer Curse fell, Steiner took his family and followers North, far from the war they left behind. Some say he sought lands where he could teach his inheritors independence. Others say he wished to escape the inevitable politics that were sure to follow. But all agree on one motivation: he didn’t trust anyone he could not call kin. The Burghe’s motives live on in his descendants. They are fiercely independent, strong, capable, and isolated in their tundra. Children are taught how to fend for themselves, shunning subtlety and politics for pure honesty.

Families: Steele, Thayl, Jasnine, Uvan, Ballan One of the most powerful families in the land, the Thayl held the Imperial Throne for centuries. The last Thayl Emperor, however, was driven insane by his own ambition. He was put down by the other Blooded families but not before he could impart a curse upon each one. His final curse shattered the land, sending all the families to the five corners of the world. Ever since then, the Blooded of the Elk have sought to restore their family’s name.
Regardless of their past, the Blooded of the Elk are still masters of the Subtle Game. They are the backbone of the courts, the power behind the thrones. Nearly every Great House has an Elk advisor, putting them in key positions all throughout the land. Despite their unique position, many Laws restrict their Strength. These Laws, passed by the Senate, restrict how much land the Blooded of the Elk may hold and what sorceries they can practice. All of this ensures the family that almost destroyed the world will never have the opportunity to do so again.

Families: Thorne, Askhen, Krev, Sinjin, Thali After the Betrayers Curse fell on the Houses, the Blooded spread across the face of the world looking for lands amidst the ruin. The lands were snatched up quickly, leaving little room for stragglers. One House, the Blooded of the Falcon, didn’t look to the land for a home, but looked within themselves. For centuries, the Falcon had no homeland. Instead, they wandered the lands by both caravan and ship, maintaining their Bloodline through discipline and strict code. Mistrusting all other Houses, developing secret symbols, signs and rituals to identify true cousins from false ones. But fifty years ago, the Falcon made a daring move. Striking from the forests and wild lands, they took lands as their own, carving out their own provinces, unveiling their banner in the halls of the Senate. Because of their position, the Blooded of the Falcon are the noble house closest to the common folk. They Operate in the world of the unblooded, dealing with their issues, facing their troubles. Of all the houses, the peasantry trust the Falcon more than any other.

Their names are as elegant as silks and their poetry is like spice. The Blooded of the Fox take a special pride in Beauty, elegance and indulgence. They are the harvesters of culture and etiquette, masters of innuendo and double-meanings, speaking in elaborate codes that only the initiated may decipher. The House of the Fox was founded by a man obsessed with excellence in all things. “If one is good, ten is better.” Their music is loud and full of passion. It was the Fox who brought the Courts of Romance to the Blooded Houses, introducing the concept of courtly love with stories, poems and songs, and they are the masters of Opera—the high alchemical art—filled with stories of doomed lovers and grand tragedies. They are also masters of sanjien, a martial art that binds the soul and Sword. The House of the Fox views hedonism, ajurna, as the “art of pleasure.” Knowing one’s limits is the first step of this art: knowing when to stop the pleasure before pain begins. Excess causes pain, and the first lesson of ajurna is how to indulge in pleasure while avoiding the consequences of pain.

Families: Mwrr, Jalan, Ovjen, Ru, Valar The House of Jalan was instrumental in Thayl’s downfall, freeing the other Houses from the mad emperor’s tyrannical rule. This historical fact has not been forgotten by the other Houses, but it does not diminish the level of mistrust they hold for the Blooded of the Serpent. Houses must deal with politics, intrigue, and sorcery. All of these things have one element in common: the element of secrecy. The Serpent is a symbol of dangerous Wisdom in ven mythology. He is the trickster spirit with poison that kills the weak and enlightens the strong. The Blooded of the Serpent are the only house who do not trace their lineage back to a man, but back to Serpent himself, the grand trickster, who fooled a mortal woman and begat his children through her (although some suggest it was she who fooled Serpent). No other House knows more about Shanri than the Serpent. Her mysteries and secrets, her hidden ruins and strains of ork. Vast libraries document Serpent’s knowledge of the world, available only to those strong enough to carry the pain of Wisdom.

Families: Adrente, Banin, Drew, Sheeda, Tal The Blooded of the Wolf live in the central isles where mountains reach up from the waters. They are a small people, dark-haired and dark-eyed. They who revere memory can list their lineages by heart. They take pride in knowledge and scholarship, but are best known for another trait: in combat, they are completely mad.
The House of the Wolf see knowledge as a weapon—just like everything else in the world—that a ven must use to maintain his freedom. They are fanatical scholars and truth-seekers. In fact, one could say the Wolf are fanatical about everything—at least the things important to the Wolf. The dichotomy between scholar and berserk is the defining trait of the Wolf. The founder of the House, Tal Adrente, was a small man of great mirth and anger. Easily riled, he carried no weapons. “I’ll just take his,” he once said of a particularly rude opponent. He did, and beat his enemy to death with his own Sword.

To the ven, names are sacred. I know, in our own culture, names don’t mean squat. But for the ven, naming a thing means you own it. Parents name their children. Nobles name their lands. A noble may even give a peasant a new name. She owns the peasant, after all. Her right. For better or worse. For the ven, names also have a spiritual significance. A name can set your destiny. Change your name, you change the path you walk upon. This is a deep spiritual truth for the ven. A name is no small affair. Sublime. Blessed. Sacred. More than that, names are so powerful, that if you name a thing, you own it. So is your power over it. You define its destiny. A mother and child. A beloved friend. A triumphant enemy. You name a thing, you own it.

Blooded ven have three names. The first is the family name, indicating who owns you. The second is the public name. This is the name people use when addressing you. Most ven, but not all, change their personal name when they come of age: a symbolic act of “claiming yourself.” Last is your secret name. The name your mother whispers in your ear when you are only a babe and you never forget it. No, that isn’t a metaphor.

(Jace speaking here. The most prominent family names, and their meanings, of each house are:
Bear - Burghe - "Alone, we stand together."
Elk - Steele - "I have never surrendered."
Falcon - Thorne - "I am the land."
Fox - Yvarai - "Desire is tamed with a kiss."
Serpent - Myrr - "I ber Wisdom's price."
Wolf - Adrente - "My weapon is myself.")

Unblooded ven have two names. The first is the name of your father or mother. The second is the region you were born. That’s about it for the unblooded. Some unblooded follow the tradition of their more noble cousins, adopting a third name—one of their own choice—upon adulthood. Many unblooded see this as vanity and asking for trouble.

The ven love titles. A title is like another name. Another element of power. Nobles bestow titles on their subjects, those whom they hold regency over. Duke, Marquis, Count, Baron, Roadman. The Duke of Marvanday, the Earl of Basinforth, the Marquis of Vashthrena. Nobles who swear fealty to someone higher.

Now, before we go any further, I should explain an important term. Altrex. “Liege lord.” This is the noble who has direct authority over you. If you are a roadman, your liege is a Baron. If you are a baron, your liege is a Count. Counts swear fealty to a Marquis and the Marquis swears fealty to a Duke. There’s always someone higher on the ladder. Except if you’re the Duke. Then, you’re a #1.

In our own time, noble title is inherited. Passed down through Bloodlines. For the ven, this is also true, but not as often. In fact, more often than not, someone other than a noble’s direct lineage inherits his land. This is because, in the world of Shanri, “nobility” is something that is taken, not inherited. The ven put a great emphasis on taking what is yours and keeping it. Demonstrates courage, conviction and Cunning. They like that. Getting something because you were born in the right place at the right time is shameful. Bad form. Therefore, daughters and sons must at least make the appearance of usurping their land from their parents. Some, however, don’t need to make a play out of it. Taking another noble’s land from the hands of his incompetent heir is both right and honorable. A weakling cannot rule. Strength. Courage. Cunning. These are the things that make a ven noble. Not inheritance. And so, as you read on, remember this distinction. Nearly every noble mentioned took the land they rule from someone else. That end result did not have to end in death. Surrender is an honorable option. Surrender gives you the opportunity to live another day and plot Revenge.

Ven scholars know how a noble gains title. He takes it. But what does it mean to be a count or a baron or an earl? If a ven demonstrates he is able to maintain a large enough amount of land—a barony—he may appeal to a higher lord for the right of title. He appeals to a Baron—one who has demonstrated he can maintain land—and asks for the right to be knighted. To carry the title. If the Baron feels the ven’s request is fair, he bestows the title of Knight upon the ven, granting him rank and privilege. A Knight must then go out into Shanri and conquer land in the name of his liege. By conquering land, the Knight forces others to swear fealty to his own name, or he may win the favor of other knights through less violent means. Eventually, a Knight has vassals of his own: those who have sworn fealty to him out of respect, love or fear. When a Knight has these followers, he brings them before the Senate and declares himself a Baron, offering his fealty to any Count who may take it. (A Baron may have a specific liege in mind, but the ceremony of announcement is a ritual that should not be disregarded.) If the noble claim of Baron is not accepted by any Count, the Knight remains a Knight. The Senate rejects his claim of Baron.
Likewise, when a Baron has enough vassals who have sworn fealty to his name, he may go before the Senate and make the claim of Count. And a Count make the claim of Marquis. And the Marquis make the claim of Duke. You can find the rules for noble progression—how a Baron can become a Count, a Count become a Marquis, etc.—in the Seasons chapter.

Being a noble means you have certain rights. (We’ll get more into these in the Law section, below.) Among them are:
Exemption from paying taxes
The right to hunt
The right to wear a Sword and have a coat of arms
The right to own land
The right of Revenge

Unblooded do not have these rights. Peasants cannot carry Swords, cannot own land, cannot have a court of arms, cannot declare Revenge. Only the Blooded. Only. Each title bestows the noble with rights, lands and wealth, but also specific duties. It is the duty of the noble to protect those lands from the liege lord’s enemies, collect taxes, and raise an army. I mean, “personal guard.” (That’s a joke. You won’t get it for a few pages.) Not only does the liege lord have the right to create these titles, but he has the right to take them away, and even remove them from existence. In this way, the lord’s land is divided into duchies, earldoms, marches, and baronies, each with their own rulers, duties, and responsibilities. When the lord creates a title, he creates a contract for that title. The contract includes details such as the lands the title will control, the length of the title’s existence, and the number of soldiers the title is allowed to muster. I mean, the number of personal guard he may retain. High ranking nobles deal out titles carefully, making sure no noble has enough income or force to overthrow his own rule.
Some contracts are for a single generation, while others last in perpetuity, as long as a clear heir is declared. In the end, a noble’s lands almost always belong to the liege; he grants lesser nobles the right to govern the lands. It is the rare exception a noble is granted free title to his lands. In the time of this game, “generational land grants” are more common that in previous eras. Also, a recent Law has nearly trumped all other land Laws. We’ll talk about that in a moment.

Now, let’s look at the rank and file of ven nobility. We’ll start at the bottom and work our way up.

A quick note. In the ven literature, “knight” is not the correct word to use here. There is no ven word for “knight,” but there is a cultural equivalent. Yvil. Road warden. Or, more informally, “roadman.” One Victorian translation I was particularly fond of is “highwayman.” That’s my favorite. Yvil are men and women of note, given title by a lord, granting them privileges not available to those of lesser status. Becoming a roadman is recognition by the noble class of “a worthy heart.” When a group of heroes saves a village from a band of orks or rescues a Baron’s daughter or thwarts an assassination attempt, the typical reward is the title of roadman. Heroes are made roadmen for two chief reasons: So the lord can be identified with the heroes who performed the deed, and 1. So the lord can fund the heroes’ efforts and further his association with them. 2. Turning brave common ven into roadmen increases a lord’s reputation among his people and the reputation of his court. Of course, only rarely is a roadman Blooded. That particular ritual is reserved for those of exceptional caliber. A roadman receives a financial reward, gets invited to the lord’s court functions, can gain prestige among Shanri’s wealthiest. The courts expect a certain behavior from roadmen, although commoners-made-roadmen may be given a bit of latitude. After all, they’re only commoners. Exceptional commoners. Exceptional dirt.
When roadmen perform daring and famous acts, the lord’s name is spoken in the same breath; and when the roadmen need food or shelter, they can go to the lord and, as his roadmen and ask for aid. Also, roadmen are recognized by the noble class as equals. Well… lesser equals. Either way, roadmen gain a certain amount of prestige in polite society. Roadmen are invited to official ceremonies and other celebrations, getting a chance to hobnob with the wealthy and privileged. This, of course, leads to the “it’s not what you know, but who you know” philosophy of getting ahead in life.

Even among roadmen, there are ranks. Here’s where translation gets tricky. The ven are very casual with rank among roadmen, often using (what appears to me) to be contradictory distinctions. While it may not be completely correct, I’m using a rather arbitrary system using the terms available. My apologies to the purists. The term yvil seems most often used with warriors rewarded with title through acts of courage and dignity. The lord’s court provides a home for the roadman, a roof to sleep under, a blacksmith to repair his weapons and a table to satisfy his appetite. Even if the roadman doesn’t partake of the lord’s hospitality, he is expected to attend the lord’s court and answer the lord’s requests for counsel and assistance. Yvaya seems to be what most scholars interpret as “highwayman.” This is a roadman who has been given a small parcel of land from his lord. He usually has a single castle to maintain. This is a roadman who is still proving himself to his lord, given his first responsibility to prove he can handle more. He has no retainers of his own to command and is not allowed personal heraldry. Ysalta is a distinguished roadman allowed to wear his lord’s colors and heraldry. I’m going to translate this as “banneret.” It seems to carry the same connotation. A banneret serves as a sergeant for a squad of dozen lesser-ranked yvil. A lord usually has many banneret, each leading such a squad. The highest rank of roadman are those who serve as personal retinue to a noble. This is the yvasa. “The Master of the Road.” An yvasa represents the best roadman in the lord’s lands and sometimes even serves as a personal bodyguard to his liege. Proper address for a roadman is “sir” or “dame” accompanied by the roadman’s personal name. A roadman is referred to as “honorable,” as in “the honorable Tilvan Syver.”

Meanwhile, a special kind of roadman, a Master of the Road, is usually assigned to maintain a shire (a collection of villages). The position of Master of the Road is usually delegated to the highest roadman in the lord’s employ. A sheriff usually owns no land of his own, but is responsible for collecting taxes and returning them to his lord. A sheriff has a number of constables to assist him in his duties, usually strong, young worthies pulled from the common folk.

The baron is on the bottom of the land-owning lord, one step up from being a Banneret roadman. A baron does not always own the land he governs, but is given the title to distinguish him from the other non-land owning nobles. In the end, a baron almost always reports directly to a higher noble and stands the chance of having his lands revoked if he offends. A baron’s land contract is often for a single generation and must be renewed by his liege. Proper address for a baron or baroness is “Lord” or “Lady.” Barons and baronesses are referred to as “Your Lordship” or “Your Ladyship,” as in “Her Ladyship, the Baroness of Q’nn, Shara Yvarai.” The ven word is r’shana.

When a Baron has gained enough self-sufficiency and proven enough loyalty that he can accompany his lord on important journeys, his liege promotes him to the title of count. A count is responsible for a county: a large parcel of land made up of many shires and townships. Counts and countesses are referred to as “Your Excellency” as in “His Excellency, the Count of Vimour, Lord Pywnn Steele.” The ven word is rhushva.

“Marquis” is a distinction given by a duke to an impressive (and dangerous) count. The title was originally given to a noble who was set to guard the outer lands (the marches), a place of great danger. Dukes gave these lands only to those they trusted most. A high gift. A dangerous gift. While his lands may not have been as vast as another noble, they held a particular value that could not be entrusted to just anyone. Since then, the title has changed. A marquis is now a title of distinction, demonstrating one who has taken lands of another by force, guile and Cunning. He has risen up through the ranks of the nobility by his own actions, earning him respect and fear by the other nobles. A marquis and marquise are referred to as “Your grace” or “the lord protector.” As in, “His Grace, the Marquise of Flouven, Lord Protector Ellwn Thorne.” The ven word is fyllyn.

Shanri’s most powerful nobles are the dukes. The title comes from the personal guard the Emperor kept, the most powerful and influential ven in Shanri. These days, ven Law forbids an Emperor. Instead, the people are divided by the Houses, ruled by the dukes, the true owners of Shanri. Dukes own their own land. They are vassals to no-one. Their word is Law and their authority unquestioned—in the open, at least. Dukes are high above the social order, almost immune to it. Almost. A duke or duchess is referred to as “Your Highness.” As in, “His Highness, the Duke of Myvster, Olderon Burghe.” The ven word is ohlrex.

At the head of each House is the avirex. The “high duke,” or Earl. There are currently six Earls: one for each unveiled House. Technically, the Earls are Dukes, but I have given them a different name to make a distinction between the Dukes who rule their own domains and the Dukes who govern the Houses proper. While the Earls are the heads of the Houses, they are often portrayed as distant and removed from the daily politics of the Houses. Unaware of the petty maneuverings of their underlings, the Earls live in decadent splendor, relying on others to protect their lands. This, of course, led to many usurpers stealing the title of the Earl. Women who held the title were called avirexa. I’ve taken the liberty to keep the translated title gender neutral in this book; a woman holding the title is still referred to as an Earl.

It is called senva. Blood magic. A relic from the sorcerer-kings. The ven are magical creatures imbued with power. Power that can be harnessed and channeled. It flows in their Blood. On altars high above their ancient and arcane cities, the sorcerer-kings sacrificed hundreds of ven at a time, harnessing the power in their Blood. Now that the sorcererkings are no more, this ancient and unholy art should have gone forgotten. Should have. Blood spilled. Power harnessed. What ven can resist power? Even if it means spilling his own Blood. Or the Blood of another. Scholars do not agree on when the ven began using sorcery. Official records do not give us any clues. It is clear that, since the Fall, ven Law have expressly forbids use of sorcery under penalty of death. Of course, this did little to hinder research of the topic. The earliest histories make mention of the House of the Serpent’s deep association with Blood magic. From the very beginning, journals and other records make note of “the sorcerous Serpents.” The Senate records do note that almost two hundred years after the founding of the body, various members—often associated either directly or indirectly with the House of the Serpent—made any use of sorcery illegal. While this may seem contradictory, it only adds to the Serpent’s advantage. For the Serpent, the cat was already out of the bag: nearly every member of the House was well associated with the rituals of the sorcerer-kings. Making the art illegal would only Strengthen their position. Since then, use of sorcerous rituals has become almost commonplace in the courts of Shanri, although it is still considered a crime on the streets and in the fields. In fact, it is still considered a crime anywhere, but the dark art has become so commonplace among the nobility, any condemnation of it would only point out one’s own hypocrisy. Almost every noble Swordsman carries a Blood Sword. Nobles use sorcerous oaths to maintain alliances between Houses. Espionage using various sorcerous tools is an everyday occurrence. If any noble dared to accuse another of using sorcery, he had better have his hands clean of Blood. Needless to say, some Houses keep a minor noble around for just such a happenstance: a young ven who has never cast a ritual, never been the target of a ritual, and never makes use of any Blooded tools. In the current social climate, however, this is incredibly dangerous. Not utilizing the benefits of Blood magic puts one at a significant disadvantage. However, it also keeps a ven’s conscience clear when he makes an accusation of sorcery.

Ven culture is a mass of etiquette, courtesy and ritual. (“Mass” in both the measurement and the Catholic sense of the word.) For the ven, there is only one correct way to do anything… and a dozen exceptions to every rule. A proper way to say goodbye, a proper way to say hello, a proper way to elicit aid, a proper way to apologize, a proper way to eat, a proper way to drink, a proper way to smoke those little black cigars made from the leaves of “witchwood trees,” a proper way to flirt, a proper way to kiss, a proper way to love, a proper way to murder, a proper way to die. If you want chaos, go live with the orks.

The subject of weights and measures is a highly disputed topic among scholars. The chief controversy revolves around exactly what constitutes a sh’vla. However, because this is a game rather than an archeological paper, I’m not going to burden you with this mess. Instead, let’s assume the ven measure things the same way we do. That is, the same way Americans do. Pounds, inches, leagues, miles, gallons. Unless you don’t live in America, in which case, just assume all measurements are metric. There’s a distinct line drawn between authentic and fun. For me, these kind of details cross that line. If you feel differently, you can try to make sense out of the sh’vla controversy. Good luck.

The ven system of measuring time is… well, let’s call it complicated. I could write an entire book on how the system works, including all the exceptions and calculations. Yes, the ven make exceptions for time. Instead, let’s assume ven time works like our own. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. That’ll make things easier. Yes, I know you lose some of the fun of using a foreign calendar. I’m a gamer, too. I know how much fun that is. But trust me, the ven calendar is a mess. It makes little sense to those who have studied it for years, let alone trying to include the thing in a roleplaying game. So, for ease of convenience, just assume the ven don’t count weeks or months. Just Seasons. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. And years. If you want a detailed summary of the ven year, there are plenty of other resources to draw from. Go find them and enjoy.

The Blooded remove boys and girls from their families at an early age: between six and eight, depending on the child’s maturity and competence. Like everything else in ven culture, we’re talking about ritual. A special meal and drink, the last supper with mother and father. Gifts. Mementos. The mother and father both give the child a token to remember them by. Then, in the morning, the child is gone. Training takes place in ushanavan: schools for young nobles. The schools teach manners, etiquette, history, politics, and selfdefense. Schools are independent—not attached to any particular House—but while the school has no political leanings, the same cannot be said of the faculty. Other ven employ private tutors to raise their children, teaching them the arts of Swordplay, politics, and treachery. Poisons, music and sush: the way of silence. (Literally, “moving without a shadow.”)

Tala. “When we are reminded that we are not alone.” To elevate or render finer. To convert into something of higher worth. For the ven, the entire purpose of art is to transform the viewer from the mundane to the sublime. The wretched to the holy. The profane to the sacred. Opera, theater, poetry. These things transform us with the sublime language of Art. Anyone who has been to a concert, the Grand Canyon, or seen through a telescope knows what I’m talking about. Events that can only be reported, not duplicated. Try explaining the Grand Canyon with just words. “Big” isn’t big enough. “Enormous” isn’t big enough. In fact, there is no word big enough to convey the BIG of the Grand Canyon. You just have to stand in awe. The ven love that sensation. Awestruck. Awesome. Terrible. Sublime. Art does that. Makes you hate a villain, makes you love a hero, makes you weep, makes you cheer. All for people, places and events that never existed.

Alvathen. The High Alchemical Art. Nothing compares to Opera. The Art that demands all other Arts. Drama. Music. Architecture. Dance. And, of course, Romance and Revenge. Ven Opera is full of spectacle. Jim Steinman meets John Woo. The thunder of the music cracking the plaster in the walls. Actors bursting their throats, their eyes full of rage and tears. Musicians in the pit, playing beatific anger and furious joy. Choirs chanting choruses over and over and over. There is no word in the ven language for “overstatement.” Like everything else, the ven are obsessed with the proper presentation of Opera. So much so that they only recognize seven plots as appropriate to the stage. This requires a bit of explanation. Think for a moment about our own King Arthur. Just saying the name summons images and names. Camelot, Gwenevere, Lancelot, Excalibur, Mordred, Merlin, Morgana, love, loyalty and betrayal. Arthur’s story has been told thousands of times in thousands of different ways, but the key characters and elements remain. And though storytellers have taken liberty with Arthur’s tale, we accept those liberties so long as the truth of the story remains intact and honored. When Arthur’s story goes too far from what we expect, we feel betrayed. Not an emotion easily explained. An instinct. An understanding. Almost as if we have to protect the story in some way. So are the ven and their Opera. Only seven stories are worthy of the stage. The ven recognize these stories from the character’s names. Just as we would know the plot the moment Hamlet’s name was mentioned. Or Odysseus. Or even James Bond. And while the plot may weave differently, certain key elements remain. Secondary characters come and go, but the lynchpin personae remain. Authors and composers work to re-tell these seven tales with different voices, using each to communicate a new moral, a new truth. Just as Arthur’s tale can communicate the conflict of true love and duty, so can it tell the conflict of Christian against Pagan. So can it tell the tale of Britain’s natives against her invaders. Just a tweak of the pen and a familiar tale delivers a different message. So are the ven and their Opera. Lesser tales are delegated to playhouses and street theater. But not the Opera house. Not that great and sacred place. Seven stories. Only seven. And there is only one ending. Blood. The High Alchemical Art, combining all the disciplines into a transcendent experience. Music. Poetry. Drama. Transforming the Opera house into the place of imagination, where heroes and stories wait to be discovered. This time in ven history is the golden age of Opera. Unfortunately, we have precious few texts from this time (because of the Dire Times that would soon follow), only a handful of the manuscripts from these amazing works. Most of the documents we do have are severely damaged, giving us only a glimpse of the work.

The ven were very specific about their Opera. So much so they recognized only seven Operas as “official.” All other Operas were lesser works, not truly inspired, not Art. These seven Operas, or Great Works, may be called tragedies if there were not so much joy in the libretto and orchestration. It seems the ven found great joy in Blood and death and calamity. But ven tragedy is very specific, and since the word has taken on so many different definitions in our own culture, I’ll take a moment to specify what the ven meant by the word. For the ven, tragedy has specific necessary elements. To begin with, the ending must include the death or undoing of the hero. Also, the hero of the tale must be responsible for his own undoing. This may be a slight at the beginning of the Opera that triggers a series of events eventually leading to his demise or it could be a deliberate action, a decision that destroys him. In short, “accident” does not belong in ven tragedy. Chance and Fate work against him, his end always inevitable, but his end is due to his own shortcomings. His own lack of Virtue. The Great Works are based on seven characters that appear in all Operas. Each Opera focuses on one of these seven characters, otherwise known as “the Seven Fools.” While the appearance of the characters may alter—the genders, the names, the relationships—the Seven Fools are consistent through all the Works. Like I said, the Seven Fools have been portrayed as both genders, but the role itself is always gender specific. For example, there have been both male and female characters who fit the role of “the Rake,” but because he first appeared as male, that role is always referred to in the male gender. The Seven Fools are: the Actress, the Dowager Duchess, the Husband, the Rake, the Swordsman, the Wife and the Wise Man. 

The character known as “the Actress” rises up through ven society through some sort of Art. She comes from humble beginnings, but convinced by the praise of others, she loses sight of those beginnings. The first Actress was Q’vanna Yvarai from the Opera of the same name. A common theater actress she took to the stage only to bring enough coin to feed her aging and crippled father. She was discovered by a slumming lord (the Rake), and enchanted by her Beauty and talent, he trained her in the ways of the Great Art, bringing her to Shanri’s most magnificent Opera houses. But her pride blinded her. She abandoned her lover, destroyed her reputation with scandal, and ends her life with suicide. The variations on the Actress are many, but nearly all of them end with the ambitious youth taking her own life.

The Dowager Duchess is a woman (or man) who is advanced in age, but refuses to acknowledge the inevitable grasp of Solace. She acts like a young woman until the cruel truth of the world comes knocking on her door, and finding her unprepared, she faces death, losing the sleep of Solace forever. The first Dowager Duchess was Lady Peacock, a very popular character in ven literature. A tragedy in every sense of the word, the Opera begins as pure farce, a comical satire of ven culture’s hypocrisies and double-standards. She spends so 
much time with banter, she never takes advantage of opportunities to say something meaningful, to say and do the things she should before Solace takes her away. The Opera ends with the Duchess’s inevitable passage into Solace, surrounded by friends and family, unable to speak, weeping, longing for just one more minute so she can say what needs to be said, to alter a tragedy of her own making. Of course, Solace claims her voice and all she can do is watch. The theme of the Opera is plain: the end is sooner than you think.

The Husband is the archetypal neglectful spouse. He is often male, although he has been portrayed as female on rare occasions (and equally rare success). His undoing is underestimating his wife’s (or husband’s) desires for independence and happiness. The first appearance of the Husband occurs in the Opera Darby’s Pride. Darby Steele spends all his time securing his lands, building a great castle, and ruining his enemies. All the while, his wife’s own desires are neglected. The Opera portrays her as devoted, loving, and willing to sacrifice for security. She gives away a chance at true love with a less ambitious baron for Darby, and slowly regretting her decision. At the end of the Opera, Darby discovers her in the arms (and bed) of another man. He kills them both and burns down his castle, racing into the wilderness, completely mad.

The Rake is unmarried, either male or female, looking to rise in society through romantic conquests. His undoing is his own shallow heart and misunderstanding of the sacredness of love. Of all the Great Works, it seems the ven were most liberal with the Rake. Identified by his name—a play on Sh’van, the original Rake—each Opera seems to be a different argument about the true nature of love. He may be young, he may be old, he may even be a woman, but he always faces the conflict of love versus duty. In the original Opera, he is a young noble seeking to restore the lands of his wounded father. Unable to maintain the lands himself, the Rake seeks allies by seducing wives of other nobles, secretly making alliances behind their backs. But true love calls in the form of a family friend, thought long lost, and everything the Rake has worked to accomplish comes crumbling to the ground when he must choose between the woman he loves and a woman who can save his lands. How the Rake chooses changes with each tale, but it always ends with a betrayal and tragedy.

His Prowess unmatched, he walks the streets of Shanri unafraid, taking all challenges. This is Cyrvanto, the Swordsman. Arrogant, and proud of it, he refuses apology, demanding the Sword answer all threats to his honor. All of which, of course, lead to his ruin.
In Cyrvanto, we see the Swordsman: a man of courage, wit, and cruelty. He has no patience for those who would oppose him, no mercy for those who taunt him, no mercy for those who question his honor. But then, he meets his match: a woman of equal skill, of equal wit, of equal cruelty. It is she who undoes him. Looking to make a reputation for herself, she wins his favor and eventually his heart. Then, using the knowledge and trust she gained, she challenges him to a duel. Unable to kill the one thing he learned to love in all his life, her Sword finds his heart, ending his life and the Opera.

The Wife is demanding, selfish and proud; the things that allowed her to reach the pinnacle of society. Unfortunately, these same qualities are her undoing. The story of Benejitrix is a familiar one to the ven, found in the Opera, One Stitch Too Many. Benejitrix is a beautiful woman married to a scoundrel of a man. Marrying for his lands, she hopes to end his life prematurely, claiming his lands as her own. Her stepson, equally ambitious, plots with his mother. (Many versions play up the sexual implications only hinted at in the first production.) Her plans are thwarted, however, by her own ambition and the betrayal of her stepson, leaving her scandalized and alone.

The character of the Wise Man is one of the least popular subjects in ven Opera. Of all the Fools, his tragedy seems the most difficult to make compelling to a ven audience. Most Artists see the Wise Man as a challenge, attempting to make this character into high Art. Most fail. Neglected for decades, it seemed the Seventh Fool would fall from grace… until one Artist succeeded to such a degree, all his following work was said to pale in comparison. Entitled Bjornae, this particular Wise Man was not wise at all. Instead, he was a simple soldier thrown into circumstances beyond his control. On the verge of an attack from a legion of Swordsmen, the desperate Count turned to a ragged soldier, seeking any advice at all. The soldier, completely over his head, gave the Count his advice. “Swimming requires stamina,” he said. The Count becomes transfixed with Bjornae’s 
simple wisdom, employing the simpleton as his advisor. The tragedy of the tale, of course, does not fall on the Wise Man, but on those who think themselves wise. Yvala Mrr wrote the Opera, a daring shift from paradigm that stuck in ven consciousness for generations.

Another omnipresent element of ven Opera is the presence of “the Servants.” Two Servants, always named Ythala (a woman) and Talsho (a man), appear in all variations, acting as a kind of Greek chorus, giving exposition to the audience with their gossip. Traditionally, the servants have the last word, giving the moral of the Opera to the audience, although more bold artists use the Servants to comment on the moral. Dangerous. But then again, true Art is always dangerous.

No self-respecting Senator would ever be caught dead in a theater. Where the commoners put on their unremarkable pageants. Where actors summon inspiration from their own hearts and minds with something they call “improvisation.” As if the words of the author were not good enough for their peasant tongues. Filthy. Uncouth. The crowd screaming at the actors, throwing biscuits and fruit. A mob, not an audience. And high above this mob, high above the rotten straw and the spilled beer, are the cloaked boxes where hooded figures watch. And smile. No self-respecting man or woman of the Senate would ever be caught dead in a theater. The theater is the common man’s Opera, but ven nobility have discovered a Truth about theater. It is where actors embrace what the ven call “the Recalcitrant Heart.” Plays are written by authors, but the actors are not expected to memorize the lines. Instead, they learn the part well enough to bring the true emotion of the character to the stage. Summoning the spirit of the character. Letting him enter you. Letting him speak for you. Letting him guide your hand, your tongue, your heart. Often, the character cannot keep with the script. His own desires, his own passions. They guide him. Not the passions or desires of another. Actors on the stage know this and embrace it. They allow the character to take over, to take the lead. Some ven claim to see a different person when an actor takes the stage. Possessed by the character, he is a different person. Dangerous magic. Peasant magic. Not the forbidden sorcery. Something different all together. This is the theater. Allowing the character to take the stage. No set number of plots or characters. No rules. But the audience is always watching. The audience is unforgiving. They came to see that magic. Possession. And they can tell when an actor has it and when an actor does not. Ithuna. “Faker.” Cabbages and biscuits. In the theater, the audience cheers, the audience cries. They boo and jeer. They grow deadly silent. Waiting. When the ven go to the Opera, they know what to expect. No-one knows what to expect in the theater. Anything could happen. Love. Revenge. Murder. And an actor cannot be held responsible for what his character may do. Love. Revenge. Murder. The theater.

We’re not exactly sure what kind of instruments the ven had, although a few engravings give us hints. We know the two most popular ven instruments strongly resembled the harpsichord and the guitar. The ven called these the pendala and the jiv, respectively. The pendala was a little larger than our own historical harpsicord, although not as large as a piano. Also, the pendala had three sets of keys rather than two. Meanwhile, the jiv had eight strings rather than six, a longer neck and a deeper body, providing for a richer sound. Another instrument, the ojava, resembled a violin or fiddle. Variations on these three key instruments made up the majority of ven music.
For other instruments, the ven relied on something resembling a didgeridoo they called a voca, a hammer dulcimer they called a toola, and a lute (looking very much like a sarod) called a tamtalt. The chief characteristic of ven music is its reliance on silence for punctuation. Long, still moments passing. No sound. Also, most compositions rely on repetitive patterns, variations on those patterns, and return to the original structure. The silence allows the listener to contemplate the variations and their meaning. As far as we can tell, the concept of the ballad—a song that tells a story with accompanying words—did not exist in ven music. Perhaps it was seen as a slight to Opera, setting words to music. Perhaps.

Painting with inks, dyes and oils. Water colors. The ven don’t paint fruit. People. People in motion. Laughing, crying, loving, dying. The purpose of Art is to unveil the Truth. There is no Truth in a basket of apples. Ven art bears a strong resemblance to German Expressionism. Extreme angles. Beatific and grotesque. Details fall by the wayside. I have no more words to say about pictures.

Davfanna Aldrena, the Senate, is the voice of the ven, those who own land and guide Shanri’s destiny. They sit in the Senate because they fought for that right. Bled for it. Killed for it. For each region a noble governs, he owns a seat in the Senate. The number of seats he owns equals the number of votes he may cast when the Senate votes. He may use his votes as he wishes, splitting them or even abstaining. His votes are his own. A Senator’s rank depends on the land he owns. A duke outranks a marquis outranks a count outranks a baron. You will soon discover a rank’s importance. The dukes lead the Senate. They recognize speakers. They call for votes. On matters of order, they perform “the duke’s privilege.” The council of dukes—however there may be—vote on the matter in question, settling disputes and deciding on matters of unclear precedent. The Senate meets on the first new moon of each Season. Any Senator may bring voice to the chamber, but he must be recognized. At least three other Senators must recognize him. Three other Senators who outrank him.
One recognized, he may speak for as long as he may hold the floor. He may not sit, he may not drink, he may not ask for support. He may pause for questions, but he must answer the question posed directly. Avoidance of questions calls for removal from the floor. A Senator indicates he is finished by kneeling and bowing. At the end of his speech, the Senate hears comments. Then, the Council of Dukes calls for a vote. Votes are made in public. The duke’s privilege is made in secret. No duels allowed on the Senate floor. No Bloodshed. If a lord loses all his land, he loses all his seats. Emergency meetings of the Senate have been called, but are difficult to pull off. The Council of Dukes must have a majority vote (one half, plus one) to call an emergency meeting. Sunrise, two days following, the Senate gathers to discuss the emergency, giving enough time for Senators to gather.

Another tradition of the ven Senate is dachanau, or “the dance of words.” (A quick side note. The ven word for “duel” and “dance” have the same root. Dacha. The literal translation is “feet moving.”) If a Senator calls for dachanau, two Senators are chosen to take opposing sides of an argument. They stand in the center of the Senate on either side of a table. On the table is a golden rod. When a Senator has the golden rod, the other Senator cannot speak. When he is finished making his point, the Senator puts down the rod and the other takes it up, rebutting the first Senator’s arguments. The purpose of dachanau is to illustrate the various points-of-view on a complicated subject; to educate Senators who may not understand the finer points of an issue. Multiple debates may be held on a single vote. Dachanau has become a popular event in the Senate, even drawing outsiders to watch the flamboyant duels of words. It has become such a fashionable activity, it has passed into common usage among the public, seen at parties and taverns alike.

The Senate has the right to appoint vashna (“investigators”) in any matter the Senate deems appropriate. Vashna are marked with the Senate’s colors: black and silver. Black for the color of non-identity, putting aside House and personal honor to protect the Senate. Silver for the purity it represents. Black cloaks, silver trim. The Duke’s Council choose the vashna, assigning them to tasks and duties. They are the Senate’s roadmen and no ven is above their authority. The vashna hold the authority of dukes and may use it at their discretion. Keeping an eye on the parts of Shanri where the Senate cannot go. They must be delicate. A vashna carries the authority of the Senate, but a black cloak cannot protect anyone from a poison cup. Who is to blame when a vashna dies in his lands? No-one can say. Especially when the lord of those lands was a thousand leagues away when it happened. Vashna cannot declare Revenge. A vashna has no personal honor to defend, only the honor of the Senate, and the Senate does not declare Revenge. The first moon of each Season, just as the Senate meets, so do the vashna report their investigations. Evidence, testimony. Judgment. The ranks of the vashna are filled with nobles who owe favors, who have been disenfranchised from their families. Landless, homeless. And then there are those who seek the power the black cloak gives them. Carrying the weight of the Senate’s vengeance. Each vashna carries a signed letter and a signet ring, bearing the seal of the Senate, as evidence of their authority.

Ornamentation. That’s the first word to know. The ven word is aelvadyn which means “little stars.” Ven legend says the sorcerer-kings came from the stars, thus the similarity with the ven word for the sorcerer-kings… a word I will refrain from using out of respect for that tradition. Like the ven themselves, ven fashion is extravagant. Exaggerated. Opulent. Magnificent statements of Beauty and glamour. Unfortunately, that’s about all we know about ven fashion. We know a few other details—like the symbolic importance of color—but other than that, we’re pretty much in the dark. A few snippets here and there, what we have are words impossible to translate. For example, most scholars agree the corset was a part of ven fashion—at least in this period—but only because the word syldana seems to be from the same word as sylv, which means “to bind.” The context given suggests a woman wearing a garment that “binds the bust.” Thus, we give syldana the distinction of being the closest thing we have to a ven corset. Most mundane words are easy to translate. We know the ven wore hats. Wide-brimmed. Gloves, boots, coats. Dresses, we have, but we’re not exactly sure what kind. We also know it was uncommon for women to dress like men, and was not viewed in any kind of positive light. This says much about ven gender issues—although, we’ll take a deeper look at those a little later. The reason I bring all this ambiguity up. We don’t know, so you should feel free to be creative. We know the ven certainly were. Lady Shara’s dresses were supposed to be scandalous. I can’t exactly imagine what the ven would consider scandalous, but we know she set a precedent with her formal gowns. If you see the ven in corsets, cloaks, gloves and gowns, go for it. If you see something closer to a Restoration Era costume set, or perhaps a Regency era style, feel free to go for it. If the experts can’t agree, I don’t see any reason why we should be limited by their disagreement.

While we don’t know the exact details of ven clothing, we do know they had a profound symbolic attachment to colors. The pillowbooks are filled with characters identified by specific color combinations, all symbolizing different attitudes, standings, and other details. These are the colors I use for my home campaign based on my own favorite pillow books. Different authors use different colors, but I’m assuming a level of organization the ven probably didn’t have. If you want to change up the colors, switch them out, or use completely different combinations, feel free to do so. Also, the ven had about twenty different words for each color, each word with a different meaning. Like that old story about the Inuit and their many, many words for “snow,” the ven had just about as many words for “red,” “green,” and all the other significant colors. Again, this gives us the opportunity to use the base meaning and apply subtle differences. Bright red, dark red, Blood red, pink. All slight variations on the primary meaning.

“I am veiled by my shame.” For the ven, wearing black is a symbol of shame. The ven word dulla (doo-EE-ah). Best translated as “veiled.” You may also translate it as “invisible.” Criminals wear black. And no-one speaks to them. No-one helps them. No-one pays attention when they’re being mugged. Dulla. Nobles hire personal guard. Personal guard do not use Swords, they use spears. To hide their identity—and their shame— they wear masks and black robes. At parties, everyone ignores them. No need to point out another ven’s shame. He’s already being punished enough. So, no black. Sure, you can have black boots and black gloves. That’s fine.

“Get out of my way.” Red is the color of passion, the color of Romance, the color of Revenge. Romance. Revenge. In the ven language, Romance and Revenge are the same word, differentiated only by stressing different syllables. Red is its color. Wearing red indicates to others that you have declared Revenge or Romance. Or both. We’ll talk about Romance and Revenge in a moment or two, but for right now, what you need to know is this. Nothing stands in the way of Revenge or Romance. No Law, no ven. Nothing.

“Tears are not enough.” Grey is the color of mourning, but for the ven, death has a deeper, more tragic meaning. For most human cultures, we assume an afterlife. The dead are not truly gone, only waiting for us on “the other side.” But for the ven, death is the End. The ven do not believe in a soul or an afterlife. Solace, at least, holds some kind of promise, but death holds no promise at all.

The forbidden color. Illness. Madness. No ven wears yellow. Old stories. Unspeakable horrors. Something darker than orks. No ven wears yellow.

“Spring is in my veins.” For the ven, green is a color of youth. It is the color of spring, vigor, lust, and Strength. Pillow books use it to symbolize characters who are particularly naive. It is also associated with generosity. The young have yet to learn the blessings of selfishness. The ven use green as the color of sincerity, renewal and rebirth. Because it represents renewal, the ven also wear green when seeking forgiveness, giving it a strong association with regret. To understand we have done wrong, we must put aside what we think and remind ourselves of what we know.

“I want to know.” Blue is the color of Wisdom. As wide is the sky, so is all a child has to learn. Blue and green are common color combinations. I have learned much, but there is still much more to know. Both male and female children wear blue. Older ven wear deep blue robes symbolizing their experience and knowledge. The deeper the color, the greater the Wisdom. As the sun reaches the west, so grows darker the sky. Wearing blue — especially darker colors—invites questions and debate. The color also communicates “I want to learn.” At ven parties, I imagine seeing rooms filled with ven wearing blue, all in various hues and shades, debating all kinds of topics. Of course, choosing which hue to wear is important. Safe to wear a lighter color than you think you deserve to wear. Then again, who ever accused the ven of being safe?

"Entertain me." Lavender is the party color. Enjoyment. Delight. Not as intense as red, purple is the color of idle enjoyment. Theater seats fill with lavender. Reclining in parlors. Whimsy. Foolishness. Simple pleasures. An undemanding color. Disarming. I am playing the game, but not for keeps.

"I am ready." Solace is the inevitable. Ven wearing white are preparing for Solace. A symbol of serenity and patience, those who wear the color of Solace are ready for their end. Wearing white can also symbolize that a beloved relative or friend is passing into the Great Sleep. You show your thoughts are with them as they enter eternal slumber. Some mystery cults encourage their members to wear white from an early age, signifying the long preparation for the great sleep. Others weave small white fabrics into their clothes, eventually replacing their colors with pure white.

“I am not playing the game.” Many ven don brown for the sole purpose of remaining outside the various machinations and plots of their neighbors and kin. Brown is the color of soil. Labor. “I am too busy to play.” Brown is also the color of “honest work.” Although the nobility would never admit it, an unspoken truth lingers here. An acknowledgement that all play and no work allows civilization to fall apart. Brown also carries the connotation of the unblooded. Many nobles wear brown to show an appreciation for the labor of the unblooded, a respect for the underclass. Controversial, at least. Scandalous at best.

Gold. The color of the sun. The color of reason. Soft, malleable. Silver. The color of moon. The color of emotion. Hard, cold. The colors of nobility. Power and purity. Only the Blooded may wear these colors.

There is no money. No coin, no paper. The ven do not have currency. Gold is abundant. So is silver and platinum. The mines left behind by the sorcererkings make digging these things out of the soil easy, but other resources such as lumber, food, and stone—are more difficult to acquire. You see, the sorcerer-kings populated the world with monsters. Outside the protective walls of the cities, the forests and fields teem with unspeakable horrors. Villages often suffer from ork attacks,  making the need for sheriffs and rangers essential. (Of course, this is where the Blooded of the Falcon come in to the picture.) Farming, fishing, mining, and other “common work” is dangerous. The peasants expect the nobles to keep their end of the “feudal compact” alive: I will serve you if you protect me. But there is no money. No coin, no paper. Ven economy is based entirely on trade and promise. Although, the ven are self-aware enough to realize just how much a promise is worth. That is why every barter and bargain is written down and signed by both parties. This has created an incredible amount of bureaucracy: contracts are the standard for all ven interactions. Some of those contracts involve Blood—but we don’t talk about that in public. Let’s look at an example. The farmer comes to town with his seven bushels of wheat. In town, there is also the fisherman, the tailor, the baker... almost everything you could want. The farmer knows he needs a new plow, the wheel fixed on his cart, and getting his wife a bolt of material for a new dress would make her very happy indeed. He goes to the blacksmith first. He produces the contract he has with the blacksmith, outlining the bargain they made two summers ago. The blacksmith takes wheat in exchange for a new plow. The blacksmith isn’t very happy—there is too much wheat in market this Season, making it easy to get—but the contract is for one more Season. Next Season, he’ll renegotiate. Next is the carpenter who is in a similar situation. He can get wheat wherever he wants it, so he tells the farmer he isn’t interested in trading this Season. So much for that new wheel. The tailor, on the other hand, is getting as much wheat as he can. Nobody’s really sure why. But he’s more than willing to honor his contract with the farmer and take all the wheat he can get in exchange for a bolt of fine cotton fabric. Meanwhile, the farmer has to renegotiate his contract with the baker. The contract he signed is up this Season and it is time to settle on a new deal. The farmer and baker sort it all out and settle their new contract with an exchange of wheat and pastries. The pastries will go good with that bolt of cotton. His wife will be very happy this Season. There is no money. No coin, no paper. But there is barter and trade. And contracts.

As far as the Law is concerned, any formal agreement is a contract. To make an agreement “formal,” a particular ritual must be performed. (Of course.) However, no matter what form the contract takes, the Law sees all contracts the same. Same enforcement, same penalties. A simple handshake suffices for most contracts. Witnesses help enforce such verbal agreements. An older ritual called for a kiss, but only nostalgic, romantic ven adhere to this. Only romantic, nostalgic ven. In other words, every single noble in Shanri. Written contracts are pretty standard in ven society, creating an entire profession of contract writers. The ven call them puja. “Quills.” Contracts can last days, weeks, years, even generations. Breaking a contract calls for a steep penalty. See The Law, above, for more details.

“Sorcery” in Shanri is actually the amalgam of three different belief systems. Two of these are native to the ven but the third is what remains of aelva donna sorcery. What the ven conveniently call “alchemy” is actually a combination of two religions: old world alchemy and new world polytheism. The principles of these two religions have many complimentary factors, but they also have many contradictory principles. The ven see no contradiction in these two sometimes-opposing beliefs.

A much older magic exists in Shanri, but one the ven view with suspicion and fear. Valae tyrun (Blood magic) was created by the sorcerer-kings thousands of years ago. Its power is undeniable, although the price is costly. To invoke the powers of valae tyrun, the sorcerer must draw Blood… either his own or the Blood of another. Use of Blood magic is not illegal, although it is viewed by many as immoral to say the least. Stories of practitioners stoned to death by peasants are regular and those who practice it in the noble caste are outcasts and social pariahs. Although, two rituals—the “Blood oath” and the “soul Sword” ritual—are used regularly in upper circles.

While most of the nobility is bound by family loyalty, individual members are also bound by a valae tiquim, or “Blood oath.” One of the artifacts of the sorcerer-kings, Blood oaths are magical agreements nobles take ensuring loyalty in a state of deception and doublecrosses. While valae tyrun is forbidden in Shanri, the ritual of the Blood oath is the its last legal remnant.
(Some might argue the utility of valae tiquim is what keeps the practice legal and alive, but they do not argue it too loudly.) When a noble signs a valae tiquim, his promise is sealed by magical symbols. If he violates the agreement, the document burns and a symbol from the Old Tongue appears on his head: worloch, the symbol for “oath-breaker.” The brand lasts for a year and a day, although wearing it often damages a noble’s political career for life. Most nobles make Blood oaths in secret – the practice of Blood magic is looked down upon in almost all circles – although the number of Blood oaths present in the Council is more than any would dare suspect.

The senvu ritual involves mingling one’s Blood with the red-hot iron of a Sword. The Sword and Swordsman are bonded… “two souls become one,” as the ritual says. The senvu ritual is very popular among nobility (many noble families have declared the ritual illegal by anyone of the merchant or peasant caste) and the presence of senvu Swordsmen in the courts has become quite commonplace. The sevnu see themselves as a kind of elite brotherhood, keeping the secret of their ritual to themselves. Any who disclose the secrets are found dispatched in a most brutal way: with their tongues torn out, throats slit, left on the shore for the crabs. There are other sorcerous rituals, but most have been lost. Sorcerers seek out these rituals in the ruins of the sorcerer kings... but these places are haunted by the past. Vast  catacombs of underground cities populated with horrors from before the cataclysm…

One of the most important traditions in ven culture is hovana. Hospitality. When a noble invites another noble into his home, he has the opportunity to extend the rights of hospitality. These protect the noble from all harm. All harm. No poison. No treachery. No games. All harm. In exchange, the visiting noble tacitly agrees not to sneak around the house, open locked doors, and otherwise respect the home he visits. This is a sacred tradition. I cannot over-emphasize its importance. A noble who violates the tradition of hospitality asks to wear the black for a long, long time. (See the Revenge chapter for what I’m talking about.)

Vrentae. The Hate. The Old Tongue. A red spirit possesses the Heart. Hungry. It can only dine on retribution. To satisfy the Hate, one must undertake High Revenge. This is not analogy or allegory. The ven believe the magic of their Blood creates a spirit that swims through them, poisoning all it touches. They grow ill. They cannot eat. They cannot sleep. Consumed by Hate, action must be taken. Hate. The sickness that can only be cured by the cause. This particular subject is so important, it has its own chapter later in this book. But until then, let me spend a moment talking about what the ven call “the Sacred Passion.” First off, there is no word in the ven language for “justice.” That is the first and last time you will see that word in this book. It just doesn’t exist. On the other hand, “Revenge” is a word that can be found in every legal document, every pillow book, every Opera, every play. The ven aren’t interested in fairness or equity or harmony. If he’s been wronged, a ven only cares about making the one who harmed him suffer the same. Suffer the same. That’s Revenge. And that’s what you need to keep in the forefront of your mind while we discuss ven Law. How did this obsession begin? How did it take such a hold on the hearts of the ven? As far as we can tell, it was an inadvertent response to an idealistic Law.

That’s what Jonan Drax said when he laid down his Seven Laws. A sensible idea backed by harsh realities of ven life. The concept of war, as we understand it, is completely alien to the ven for many reasons. The first is resources. While the ven are not a culture of scarcity, there is not enough land to support and maintain a standing army. The ven did inherit the ideas of warfare from the aelva danna, but it is no longer seen as a practical method of resolving dispute. The ven adapted and evolved, developing a style of warfare that fit their circumstances. Unable to wage war on a large scale, the ven have mastered waging war on a small scale. Demonstrating how reverently the ven treat “little wars,” they use the Old Tongue of the aelva danna when speaking of it. The word most commonly associated with the act of ritual violence is vrentae, which best translates as “Revenge.” The ven are civilized creatures. They agree upon a set of Laws, and abide by those Laws, surrendering certain civil liberties in exchange for safety. Without this mutual agreement, the ven would be reduced to chaos. Nobles are the keepers of civilization, the watershed against that chaos. Even still, there comes a time when words and rhetoric fail, and when they do, the only recourse is action. The noble caste recognizes this, and recognizes a noble’s right to defend his honor, and defend it with Blood, if necessary. Violence is a part of ven culture, but if arms must be taken up, they will be taken up with a mind toward Art. Two opponents, each with the same weapon, facing off to prove or disprove a claim of honor. This is the purpose of ritual Bloodshed: to address the necessity of violence in a civilized culture. As we’ve seen mentioned elsewhere, for the ven, Revenge is a sacred part of their culture. Not to be trivialized, disrespected or abused. The ven right of Revenge is sacrosanct. But, in order to perform Revenge properly, you must know the proper rituals.

Another word that doesn’t appear in the ven language. “Crime.” There is no crime. Only Insult and Injury. Let me explain. Violence is illegal in Shanri, except under specific circumstances. Those circumstances are “the Three Offenses,” conditions upon which a ven may rightfully commit violence against another. Under the Law, only the Blooded are allowed to commit violence. No unblooded may commit violence under any circumstance. The Senate’s Laws regarding violence are strict and the punishment for breaking those Laws is not pleasant. Those who are already familiar with the ven know this, but I’m making a concerted effort to remind you of those consequences here. The ven do not tolerate random violence. Only righteous violence. When a ven breaks the Law, he has committed Insult or Injury or both. This is different from our own legal system which tries to isolate the victim from the crime. (At least, that’s the idea.) Murder or theft are crimes no matter who the victim is and the decision of a judge or jury is based on legal precedent. Past decisions determine the punishment with slight modifications depending on the circumstance. In ven Law, this is not the case. There is no precedent in ven Law. Every case is unique and must be considered carefully. Must be scrutinized. And the judgment must be proper to the case. If it has been found that a ven is guilty of Insult or Injury, recompense must be administered. Not fairness. Not equity. Revenge. When a ven finds himself Insulted or Injured, he goes before a Jury to make his case. If the Jury finds in his favor, he is allowed to seek Revenge. Typically, this means the right to challenge his rival to a duel. And, of course, the consequences of this always end in tears. But how does all of this happen? How does the Jury decide what is worthy of Revenge and what is simply petty bickering? We’ll discuss all of that in the Revenge chapter.

Vrentae. The Lust. The Old Tongue. A red spirit possesses the Heart. Hungry. It can only dine on the rage of Passion. To satisfy it, one must undertake Romance. This is not analogy or allegory. The ven believe the magic of their Blood creates a spirit that swims through them, poisoning all it touches. They grow ill. They cannot eat. They cannot sleep. Consumed by Lust, action must be taken. Romance. The sickness that can only be cured by the cause. Poets have been put to death for writing of it. Men and women alike have been punished horribly for believing in it. The Senate has condemned it, calling it a weakness. That crazy little thing called love. The ven were thunderstruck by this notion of personal love; their social structure completely unequipped to handle it. In a world of arranged marriages—where the bride and groom rarely met before their wedding day—such a notion undermined the entire social order. To understand how drastic a perspective shift this all is, imagine for a moment a world devoid of the notion of love. Love at first sight, falling in love, flirting, dating, the first kiss—imagine all of these notions we take for granted simply did not exist. All of it is nothing more than simple Lust. Lust. A poison infecting your heart. Rushing fever through the body. Inducing foolishness. Bringing illness. You act against your family for it. Against your House for it. Against all your better instincts. Just for a chance to win the glance… the touch… the kiss… skin…
Love is a sickness. The sickness that can only be cured by the cause. And then along comes a notion that perhaps love isn’t a sickness. Perhaps, and I’m going out on a limb here, that perhaps love is something else. Something virtuous. Something righteous. Something worthy. Perhaps even something sacred.

The word vrentae is best translated as “obsession,” although the literal meaning is “holding my heart.” Depending on the accentuation, the word has two connotations. The first is “love.” The second is “Revenge.” If the first syllable is accented—vren-tay—it means “love.” If the second syllable is accented—vren-tay—it means “Revenge.” In the minds and hearts of the ven, these two things are nearly identical. First, let us explore “Revenge.” The concept of war, as we understand it, is completely alien to the ven for many reasons. First among them is resources. While the ven are not a culture of scarcity, there is not enough dry land to support a standing army. The ven did inherit the ideas of warfare from the aelva danna, but it is no longer considered a practical method of resolving dispute. The ven adapted and evolved, developing a style of warfare that fit their circumstances. most common way to settle a dispute is private duel. One-on-one combat. The two combatants agree on terms through a disinterested third party, meet at a predetermined time, select weapons, then ceremoniously try to kill each other. The winner is considered “correct” in the dispute. However, despite all of this formal combat, deaths occur outside the parameters of legal duel all the time. We would call this “murder.” The ven call it uvanla: “a moment of opportunity.” When a ven is killed outside the scope of legal murder, the relatives of the deceased are obliged to call vrentae. The process for calling vrentae is complicated and must follow the correct procedure. If it is not correctly followed, the vrentae is not considered “official” and may carry dire consequences. When a ven calls for vrentae, he marks himself in a distinct manner—usually with the color red—and is considered immune to almost all other procedures and bureaucracy. No other matter is more important than avenging the wrongful death of a relative. He is considered free of sin until the vrentae is carried out. However, if he fails to carry out the vrentae in the proper amount of time, or does not carry it out in the proper fashion, his reputation will be severely damaged.
More on duels and formal combat can be found in a later chapter. And now, let us talk about the other side of vrentae. Let us talk about “love.” While many have translated vrentae as “love,” it is not a fully correct translation. “Romantic love” is closer, but still not completely correct. The ven do not view love as eternal, nor do they understand the concept of a “soul mate.” Marriage does exist in ven culture, but as a bargaining chip for settling land disputes, inheritance and for making heirs. All of this is rather cold, but vrentae is anything but. It is hot. It is the passion that drives men and women mad. As one ven poet wrote, “It is the sickness for which the only cure is the cause.” For the ven, vrentae is a cause for poetry, for song and for story. It makes us unwise, drives us to tragedy, and blinds our reason. This is vrentae. And, just as those who are driven by Revenge wear a color to distinguish themselves, so do those who have fallen under the mad spell of love. While wearing such a distinction, a man or woman may expect a bit more tolerance from those who understand the sickness of love. Those under its sway act madly and do foolish things. They cannot be held responsible for what they do: they are in love! But love, like Revenge, does not last. It fades like the Seasons. Eventually, an affair grows cold and becomes like the marriage the lovers fled from. Marriages last forever, but affairs come and go. This is the way of love: powerful but fickle, passionate but passing. And while it may make us mad for a time, we cannot be fools forever.

Go to your bookshelf. Go pull down your favorite fantasy novel. It could be Tolkien, it could be Zelazny, it could be anything with “fantasy” on the spine. One hundred years ago, a book like the one you’re holding wouldn’t be called a “fantasy,” it’d be called a “Romance.” A work of romantic notions like heroes, heroines, acts of daring-do, swashbuckling and something called “true love.” Romantic notions. The novels of Alexandre Dumas were Romances, the Arthurian myths were Romances, and yes, the War of the Ring was called a “Romance” in the time the Professor wrote it. Not a fantasy, but a Romance.
(Technically, he called it a “history,” but we’re willing to allow the Professor a mistake or two now and then.) And with that in mind, look through the pages of that fantasy novel of yours. Look at the passion of the characters, willing to throw their lives in the way of danger for romantic ideals. Romance can be silly, but it can also be dramatic, subtle, and even tragic. Romance can be an adventure in itself, or it can be the springboard for adventures, giving your character a reason to act as he does. Greed only carries a man so far; what happens when he collects his 100,000 gold pieces? He retires from the dangerous profession of adventuring, gets married and has a few kids, opens a smithy and spends the rest of his life in relaxed luxury. But a man in love will do just about anything, even don that armor one more time, kiss his wife and children goodbye and go out into the wild world to protect everything he’s built. Love is the greatest motivator in the world, and it can provide a hero with powers he never knew he had. As we’ll see later… Romance is a vital and powerful force in Shanri. It burns in the hearts of the ven. You will learn more about passion and love affairs in the Romance chapter.

And there you have it. Your primer on ven culture. Of course there is more. So much more, I could write six or seven books on the subject and not even begin to scratch the surface. A book about the Wastelands outside ven civilization. A book about how the ven go Slumming through the cities of the unblooded. A book about the Senate and all its political machinations. A book about Manners, filled with the intricacies of what the ven call the Invisible Language. And speaking of “invisible,” I could also write an entire book about the rites and rituals of the suaven. The Invisible World. Six or seven. But, until then, continue on. You now know enough to make intelligent choices about your ven character. The next chapter teaches you how to make that character, including his lands, his vassals, his enemies. You’ll need some paper, some pencils and some friends. So, get to it.
JaceBeleren Member

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