The intro, reposted

[Sierra]

Cut-and-pasting this here, at Cor's request. Though it does duplicate a lot of the info to go into the Encyclopedia thread eventually (mean to go into greater detail there, though).

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Overview

The city of Avontyne is an oasis of humanity perched on the edge of a desolation. Somewhat over two hundred years ago the world erupted into the thaumaturgical equivalent of of an intercontinental nuclear war. Imperial capitals vanished in massive fireballs, crops and forests withered to deserts, and mutagenic weapons saturated the earth with pollutants that twisted and distorted all life encountering them. Against the odds, some humans survived and welded the shattered pieces of their world into something approximating what they knew of civilization. The semblance was not perfect--the governing body that rebuilt the city to accomodate the wrecked world it now inhabited was markedly more martial and disciplinarian than that which Avontyne had once known. Much learning was lost; the combined effects from the loss of skilled spellcasters, written records, and institutions of learning, as well as genetic drift caused by toxic fallout, ensured that the human capacity for magic plummeted far below that of the halcyon days of empire. Food supplies were critical for some time and the early years knew many horrors. But Avontyne survived, from all appearances the last outpost of civilization in a wrecked and wretched land.

The Year of the Long Winter

In a way, Avontyne was lucky. A colonial outpost on the edge of a great empire, it lacked the size or stature to make it a target in the war, but possessed a sufficiently large population to have the base of skilled laborers and resources necessary to rebuild afterwards. Populations from smaller settlements nearby flocked to it as a haven and left their villages to wither in the encroaching waste. All was not well within the city, however, despite its prospects. Chaos reigned in the streets for months as the sky remained darkened by debris from the war. Food supplies dwindled; soon the population decimated Avontyne's cats, dogs, and horses for sustenance, so much so that even today possessing an animal for no reason beyond extra company is thought of as a considerable luxury. Many suggested that bold action and extreme measures would be required if Avontyne was to persist.

Order and the Rise of the Registry

A collection of leading citizens sought to put to right this state of affairs. After a year of such unrest, martial law was imposed. Food stores were strictly rationed. All effort was made to cleanse the surrounding land of pollutants and utilize it for agriculture (regardless of the wishes of the owners of property requisitioned for this purpose). Without external trade, it would take considerable work to render Avontyne self-sufficient. With all available space needed to kickstart Avontyne's agricultural engine, open land became the supreme luxury.

Instrumental in reestablishing order within the city was the founding of the Office of the Registry, intended initially to keep an eye on all users of magic and prevent them from upsetting Avontyne's fragile balance which always threatened to topple into oblivion in those early years. Characteristic of the extreme measures used to stabilize the situation is the fact that the Registry reserved to itself the authority to terminate any individual deemed to be excercising their powers irresponsibly. Though the capacity for spellcasting was greatly diminished from its pre-war height, desperate or instable people could still wreak considerable havoc. Soon the Registry's responsibilities expanded to involve the training of magic-users as well, duties eventually passed on to the city's university once it resumed operation, and an extensive library of files on the capabilities and dispositions of all talented citizens within the city.

As Avontyne's condition stabilized, however, the Registry's authority did not recede. Those administering the organization used its influence to maintain a stranglehold on social control. Political opponents were eliminated on specious grounds. Ownership of their property devolved to the state. In time a new class of landed aristocracy developed from the Registry's founders, rich (in Avontyne's terms) from such practices. Though over the past century the heavy hand of the Registry is felt with decreasing frequency, the families descended from its founders remain the city's social elite.

During this time Avontyne remained, to the best of everyone's knowledge, the last outpost of humanity. The great wastelands that lay beyond the hundred or so square miles of reclaimed farmland remained impassible--still saturated with the spawn of the horrific mutagenic weapons used during the war, setting foot in these wastes is to invite a fate arguably worse than death. The seas seemed only slightly less treacherous, as the fallout sank to the bottom of the ocean and bred unholy leviathans that could swallow a ship without a trace. Though Avontyne was a port town, it lacked great forests to convert into a navy and its few invaluable fishing ships did not stray far from shore.

Current Affairs

Twenty years ago, Avontyne was shaken by the arrival of a ship from a foreign port--the first in two hundred years. The ship, a scout from the port of Kalbemarle, was a revelation: Avontyne was not as alone as its citizens perceived (or wished) it to be. The Kalben sailors brought word of other survivor cities, Corentin far to the north and a handful of others even more distant and exotic, which despite the holocaust had rebuilt, and persevered, and prospered (at least, as much as a society could prosper in such a world, in the manner of Avontyne). Trade soon flowed again between Avontyne and elsewhere. After two centuries of at first survival rations and then being restricted to homegrown produce which represented only a fraction of the panorama once available, any additions to the Avontyne diet were welcomed ecstatically. Long-lost luxuries flowed between the cities, as well. Kalbemarle sent out wine, exotic fabrics and pearls; Corentin, isolated in the north and with access to vast reserves of untouched taiga, sent to its southern counterparts timber and furs; Avontyne exploited its hard-earned agricultural surplus.

A new class of merchants and traders arose to take advantage of this surge in commerce, almost overnight and before the social elite surrounding the Registry could react. Inevitably these upstarts soon agitated to have a stake in the governing of their city, demands which the establishment resisted forcefully. The schism has only worsened in recent years, with the Registry stalwarts twisting the law at will and employing all the tools of government to defend their position, and a few radicals amongst the opposition suggesting that the office of the Registry is no longer needed and that those who support it are an outmoded elite due to be swept aside for the good of the city.

You, as the PCs, will find yourselves as soon-to-be graduates of the city's university and, possessing a notable amount of magical aptitude, ideal recruits to further the schemes of Avontyne's two conflicting identities.

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Background Post

Magic

Technically speaking, every aspect of the arcane in Avontyne rests on the assumption that there is such a thing as a soul, separate and apart from the human body. Think of it as residing on a plane of existence slightly out of phase with the world we see; the body and soul are tenuously connected, and the mind can pass along this conduit commands to alter reality. The soul makes these changes in its own, more malleable, plane--changes which are then manifested in the "real" world around us. (These facts are not widely understood in-context, and the issues of how and why magic operates the way it does--indeed, the fact that it exists at all--are still the subject of much speculation and research. Although obviously the basic concept of a soul is present in theology). Thus, magical ability in Avontyne most frequently expresses itself as the manipulation of natural and physical phenomena. Your garden-variety telepaths and telekinetics are a rarity here (and are generally feared when discovered, especially telepaths).

How someone's innate talent expresses itself varies widely according to the inclination--and even personality--of the user. Thus, what precisely a talented individual can do magically can usually be characterized by one or a handful of themes (often related if the user has more than one focus). This could mean control over one of the familiar elements, but also includes concepts more intangible, exotic, or nebulous. There is not an established body of "spells" that an up-and-coming magic-user would learn--everyone's abilities are highly individualistic (though admittedly people with a similar focus may be able to mimic one another's techniques). As one might guess, this can make training something of a hassle (more on this later).

As for how one goes about implementing their talents, this too is highly specific and varies by individual. The most skilled can impose their will on the world around them through thought alone; others require a methodology of some sort, something akin to an intermediary that allows their mind to translate input that cannot be properly interpreted by the familiar five senses. It's often very much dependant on the personality of the individual, and sometimes co-opts preexisting skills: it may involve chanting of some sort, interpretative dance, one of the traditional senses being particularly exaggerated (such that they "see" or "hear" mental constructions that represent the forces their soul will be manipulating), playing an instrument, creating machinery or distilling chemicals, or something more exotic. Some find it easier to use magic in certain environmental conditions or in a particular emotional state. Users with combat experience may develop magical abilities that complement their established physical techniques and prove to be unusable without their familiar weaponry.

Again, none of this is strictly necessary to engage in the use of magic, but many find it facilitates the practice. Those with extensive formal training are likely to do without it if possible, as being dependant on such a crutch (as it is seen by some) can be both inefficient and hazardous in some situations. Many instructors of magic focus their efforts on subverting such overreliance.

As for training--quite relevant, as I intend to begin the scenario in the city's university as characters are preparing to leave it--as you could probably guess from the descriptions above, training in the arcane arts is by necessity very interactive and very hands-on. The ratio of instructor to student is very small (extremely rarely in the double-digits). The focus of such training is, first and foremost (as mandated by the Registry, which has many close ties to the University), ensuring that trainees are fully in control of themselves in regards to their powers and will not instinctively and unthinkingly excercise them at the slightest emotional upset. That's the minimum goal that anyone with a notably high power level should meet before being allowed to leave. Anything beyond that point is optional, but there are numerous incentives to continue.

I think that covers the main points. So now we're down to the nitty-gritty: what can your character do? On what scale? For how long and what kind of effort does it take? For the first query...well, that's where it's your turn to be creative, naturally. The second point is an important one, though, as we're generally operating on a small scale with magic in this scenario. No one's about to destroy the world through will alone--or the city, or even a significant chunk of it. Magic operates on the perfect scale for duelling, if that helps you put things in context. As for what kind of effort is expended on doing this...constant usage of magic wears you out as does light to moderate excercise. Again, depends a lot on the user and how much experience they have.

It's worth noting that the above remarks about scale were not always true in this world. Reliable pre-war accounts suggest that the human potential for invoking unearthly powers was once much greater than that presently exhibited by the inhabitants of Avontyne. Beyond the obvious reasons stemming from the absence of literature, materials and human expertise lost in the holocaust and the chaos that followed, and the dissolution of social infrastructure devoted to training people in these matters, chemical and biological explanations are also offered by theorists. Many of the "dirty" weapons used in the war were formulated precisely to spread contaminants that would dampen the arcane abilities of the opposing populace's offspring. A century of the Registry eliminating some of the most talented individuals from the gene pool probably didn't help matters either.

Oh, and as for who can use magic? Anyone. In theory, at least. Almost anyone can achieve moderate competence with the proper training, but many will accomplish little without it. Nevertheless, the potential is always there. Some are adequately capable of discovering their innate abilities and training themselves, and a few rare individuals prove so innately adept that their talents will express themselves unheeded. Such people, however, can prove extremely dangerous if not taught the proper self-control early. Hence the Registry's zeal in purging them immediately after the war.

As one final detail, it is possible to craft magical tools to mimic or enhance one's innate abilities. Difficult and time-consuming, but it has its uses.

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Geography

Macro: Avontyne is situated in the northern hemisphere of the world, and its climate approximates that of continental Europe. Summers and winters are equally harsh. It is a port town, and the coastline on which it sits runs southwest to northeast. A semicircle of land approximately one hundred square miles in area (much of it originally flat grassland) has been re-tamed for human use over the past two centuries. The vast majority of this territory is given over to farming, though at the edge of the southwestern sector rolling hills eventually give way to towering mountains. The River Avon spills from these mountains, arcing across the agricultural zone to eventually make a left turn and bisect the city along its southeast/northwest axis.

Beyond Avontyne's comfortable perimeter of arable ground lie the Outlands. Not quite tamed, not quite inhabitable like the true wastes, they are a strange place where civilization is a fragile thing. After the war, as Avontyne's reconstruction began, some people found themselves more suited to the rough task of reclaiming the wasteland than to life in the hyper-regimented and microorganized early Registry years. These people and their descendants became the Outlanders, fighting and hunting for a living and only irregularly interacting with the city proper (though the farming towns that sprang up in later years do frequently have commerce with them). As Avontyne's territory expanded, they moved with the frontier. Wilder than city folk in appearance and temperament, and loners by nature, Avontyne's citizens hold a wide array of opinions about them. The most extreme view them as savages. At the same time, others realize the benefit of having such people at the city's disposal. By necessity they possess considerable knowledge of the border zone, its wildlife, and the wasteland creatures that occasionally wander in for prey. The Bureau of Land Management frequently contracts them to scout out lands slated for purification and expansion.

And past the Outlands...are the true wastelands. Some Outlanders can survive for a time (a day at most) in the waste--having spent generations in proximity, some possess a modicum of resistance to the morphogenic properties of its taint. But no one can live there. Only the occasional, twisted scrub plant grows to break the monotony of the cracked, baked flats and hills. Two centuries of exposure to the mutagenic fallout that saturates this land has bred entirely new species of abominations which bear little relation to familiar terrestrial creatures and have no place among them. A similar fate typically befalls humans who venture in too far, if neither madness or the jaws of some beast claim them first.

Several days travel across the wastes, to the east, hills give way to a narrow range of mountains. In the midst of this range lies a valley filled with pristine white sand. A remnant from conflicts ancient even before the holocaust of two centuries past and quite impassible for a variety of reasons, the old Mallen empire constructed an elevated bridge to cross this gap and connect the empire proper to its new colony of Avontyne. In the days of empire Ausra Remei, the old provincial capital, lay on the other side of the crossing. If anything remains now, it is naught but ruins, though none brave the wastes far enough to find out.

Further afield are Avontyne's two main trading partners, Kalbemarle and Corentin. The former lies several weeks' ocean travel to the west, and a little ways south so that its climate is warmer than Avontyne's as a result. Corentin is on yet another continent, north-northwest from Avontyne and a slightly longer journey than that to Kalbemarle. Corentin is a cold place, suffering harsh winters, but it was relatively untouched in the war (at least, in comparison to the fate suffered by most centers of civilization) and has access to huge swaths of pine forest. It's a small city, not having the resources to feed a population like Avontyne's.

City Layout: Avontyne is not a city of long, graceful boulevards and wide-open plazas. As a result of the chaos and hasty reconstruction after the war, much of it is cramped and ramshackle. There are exceptions, certainly--some neighborhoods have been rebuilt from the ground up in recent years, in a more organized and polished fashion--but the older and poorer districts remain a tangled maze of backalleys.

Avontyne's population has long since spread beyond the city's ancient defensive walls (now in thorough disrepair and frequently cannibalized for building material). However, the most important districts remain within this ring. Those being:

Landry District (Dockside): Almost never referred to by its actual name; every citizen knows what is meant by "Dockside." Occupying the northwest of the city and the majority of its waterfront, Landry District suffered much neglect after the war--though fishing continued, there was (supposedly) no outside world with which to have commerce and the area fell into disrepair as a result. Poverty has long been endemic to the region. After contact with Kalbemarle was established, organized gangs sprang up to take advantage of the sudden spike in traffic and shipping. Though this lawlessness has been fought successfully in recent years, the district remains dangerous, with prostitution and smuggling significant problems.

"Drowned District" Ophthaelen: Ophthaelen sits astride the delta of the River Avon. Unlike Dockside, it was left wholly to rot after the war--somewhat literally, as the foundations of many of its buildings have eroded. Those structures which do not sag display other major signs of decay. Time and again the powers that be have ruled the District unsalvageable (the most radical would suggest it be put to the torch, if only it could catch fire). The city guards enter the area as little as possible, generally only enough to ensure that ships passing through to go upriver can do so safely. Those desperate enough to live in the Drowned District are looked down upon even by the dregs of Dockside.

Morrister: One of the oldest areas in the city, Morrister District accounts for the bulk of Avontyne's northeast quadrant. While it housed the city's elite during colonial days, the glamour wore off somewhat after the war as the Registry families relocated power elsewhere. Morrister District now acts largely as a buffer between prestigious East Riding and the rest of the city, though this is not to say it has gone to seed--many businesses owned by the aristocracy are located here and provide employment for Morrister's residents, so the district remains prosperous. The district is named after Lizaveta Morrister, one of Avontyne's founders.

East Riding: Located in the northeast corner of Avontyne, East Riding contains the finest and most expensive dwellings in the city. The vast majority of the rich families descended from the early Registry leaders reside here. Once commerce with the outside world began again, many aristocrats also built their own private wharves in this District for the purpose of shipping their goods overseas without having to deal with the hassles of Dockside; many also relocated their businesses to Morrister District, and hence there are many close ties between the two areas.

Westborough: Something of a misnomer, as Westborough occupies a significant slice of the city's central north-south corridor as well as part of its western edge. Common and skilled laborers make up a significant portion of Westborough's population. Honre Nathaline's (the city's sanitarium) and the City Watch HQ are both located here, as is the Governor's mansion. On its eastern border is the River Avon, across which lies Morrister District.

Bazaar: Lying nearly in the exact center of the city, and neatly bisected by the River Avon, Bazaar District is aptly (if uncreatively) named. Its central market is one of the largest open spaces in the city. The district plays host to innumerable small shops and street stalls, mostly selling local produce and goods (though imports have been edging in lately).

Chalcedony: Sandwiched between the government offices of Elster and the riotous noise of Bazaar District. Chalcedony houses a variety of skilled artisans and specialists (jewelers, goldsmiths and some more vital professionals) which cater to the workers of Elster and the inhabitants of Morrister and East Riding.

Elster: Located in the eastern side of the city, Elster District houses much of Avontyne's government infrastructure. The Office of the Registry and the Bureau of Land Management are both located here. Housing for rank-and-file bureacrats also takes up much of the district. Elster's streets are typically orderly and quiet.

Calia: Long a bulwark of Avontyne's narrow middle class, the profile of which has risen sharply in recent years. A significant portion of the new rich (merchants, businessman and assorted professionals) that have in recent years risen to criticize the Registry faction's influence reside here. The area is named after Cyrus Calia, another of the city's founders. Calia District is in the western area of Avontyne.

Lotus: Lotus District occupies the southwestern quadrant of the city. This district is inseparably associated with the University, which lies near its northern edge. Unsurprisingly, students, scholars, and researchers from all fields make up a disproportionate share of its population. Through a kind of urban natural selection, Lotus District has some of the safest streets in Avontyne--muggers have learned to stay away from the district with the highest concentration of magic users.

Brangwin: Located in the southeast, with the River Avon marking its western border with Lotus District. Much of the small-scale commerce between city-dwellers and the countryside goes through here. The central shrine of the Fyrdaellan Faith is located in Brangwin District.

Landmarks

Governor's mansion: A pre-war relic, this lavish (and architecturally anomalous) structure lies in Westborough, just north of Bazaar and not far from the river.

Senate Plaza: Just across the river from the Governor's mansion, in Morrister. Senate Plaza is the largest public gathering place in the city. As the name might indicate, this ground was originally cleared for the construction of a local representative government back in the colonial days, but only the foundation had been made when the war broke out. Squatters crowded it in the chaos of the Long Winter, but once relative prosperity returned to Avontyne it was cleared again, paved and tiled, and dedicated to civic events and festivals.

Merrigan's Tower: Another pre-war relic. Constructed to mark Avontyne's fiftieth anniversary, this clock tower was a synthesis of neolithic stature, infinitely elaborate arcane scrollwork, and the best modern engineering. Intended to represent and bring together disparate eras in the old empire's history, its chimes rang out the five opening notes of an old Mallen anthem on the hour. The machinery inside wound down and fell into disrepair after the war; only five years ago did Avontyne recover the technical expertise needed to fix it. Merrigan's looms over Senata Plaza in Morrister District.

Lewenwold Island: Not much more than a jut of rock in the bay, Lewenwold Island was alternately used as a prison and a garrison back in colonial days. It fell into ruin after the war, though. There has been talk of repairing it and stocking it with guards once again (since Avontyne apparently isn't the last outpost of humanity after all), but such notions have thus far come to naught.

Exeter Annex: A plot of land established a decade or so after the war for those who could afford to privately keep and ride a horse of their own (breeding stock remained low for some time after the war) could do so collectively, with the most efficient usage of land possible. It also helped serve to repopulate the species. As conditions in and around the city generally improved, it was no longer needed for this purpose, but remained in place as a popular recreational area. Eventually bedrooms, kitchens, dining halls and a ballroom were added, along with other facilities for indoor and outdoor sports. If it helps, think of it as a country club. The Annex is located approximately five miles south of Avontyne's city limits.

Reclamation Dams: One of the first orders of business immediately after the war was ensuring that Avontyne had access to clean drinking water. With mutagenic toxins being washed into the river with every rain, this was not an easy task. Purification stations were set up across the river to filter the water before releasing it further downstream, with magic-users demonstrating an affinity for water being dragooned into service to clean it (and often worked past exhaustion). The dams were successively demolished and reconstructed upstream as the surrounding land was reclaimed; the only one remaining in use today is the one near the river's source in the mountains (high-altitude snowmelt being relatively clean), though ruins of the abandoned stations still litter the riverside.

Honre Claudine's: Not far from this last facility is a hermitage staffed by the Fyrdaellan Faith, the nearby lake being perceived as the source of life for Avontyne and a blessed site. It is mostly staffed by those who joined the Faith to escape the pressures of normal life and tired of the metropolitan bustle.

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Major Institutions

Politics in Avontyne are not conducted through any representative process. The official ruler still carries the title of Governor (as in imperial days) but de facto control of the city lies in the hands of the landed aristocracy, who appoint one of their own to the top position whenever it is vacated. Policy is formulated in backrooms and in private conversations between a handful of notables. Only the present Governor has made a significant attempt to break with this trend towards autocracy (but more on him later). However, having said that, there are still numerous groups and agencies that have an influence on daily life in the city:

Office of the Registry: Much has been said already about its beginnings and its duties, so for this entry I'll focus on its present status. While its chief duty is still the regulation of magic-users within Avontyne, only a few of its staunchest supporters would suggest reversion to the extreme measures employed in the immediate post-war days. The Registry largely ceased executions a century ago--which is not to say such things do not happen today, but it is rare and usually done for obvious cause. Information-gathering is its primary business now: the lower levels of Registry HQ contain a vast library of files with detailed information on every registered magic-user within the domain of Avontyne. An individual's particular focus, estimated power level, the steps required to activate their powers (if any), potential weaknesses (should they become a threat to the peace and need to be removed) are all outlined in detail in the citizen's file--along with, in some cases, notes on social contacts for those demonstrating subversive tendencies. Much of this information is passed along in the form of evaluations by staff at the University. Note that it is possible to train in private and escape the Registry's notice, and that users who can only weakly implement their powers, or on a small scale, are often ignored by it nowadays. Nevertheless, the Registry remains a powerful symbol for those displeased with the status quo. Its present Chief Administrator (the position was originally titled Chief Executor) is Cyril Rulea, also a former Chancellor of the University.

Bureau of Land Management: The second significant agency established in the early days of modern Avontyne, after the war. The BLM was founded in order to coordinate the requisition and disposition of what open land remained arable outside the city and ensure the food supply remained sustainable. Given the profoundly drastic food shortages of the early post-war years, this was an important office and organized rationing as well. While still monitoring the city's produce, it has, over the last two centuries, picked up additional duties as the city's condition stabilized and relative prosperity returned, so that it now resembles a census bureau, IRS, and department of agriculture all rolled into one. In some ways this was a natural fusion, as an agency whose business is to take detailed stock of what citizens own is in prime condition to levy taxes on that property. However, as one might guess, it has become somewhat unwieldy, and an entrenched (and nearly hereditary) bureacracy resists all attempts to reform or break the agency into its component parts.

City Watch: The regular patrolmen who walk Avontyne's streets and deal with daily crime. The watch is one of the few institutions to linger from before the war, though the scope of its responsibility has been greatly decreased over the last two centuries--a fact which galls many who join out of a drive to keep the peace, and particularly those for whom the occupation runs in the family. The prime cause of this is that the Registry, as the de facto judicial body in Avontyne, can and does suborn the authority of the watch at will. While the watch is free to conduct much of its small-scale business undisturbed, Registry officials will not infrequently whisk away suspects (usually those involved in magic-related infractions, or simply those some aristocrat has taken an interest in for whatever reason) without justification--and the watch has absolutely no jursidiction to deal with what we would term "white collar crimes." The result of this is that there is a long-standing departmental rivalry (or so the watchmen see it) and enmity that causes many watchmen to sympathize with the Registry's opponents on political matters. The present Captain of the watch is Jeremiah Groughton, the son of two veteran BLM desk jockeys who were most distraught to see their son take what they saw as a peasant's job. NOTE: "City Watch" is a placeholder. I intend to come up with a more distinctive name.

The Peerless: The elite guard assigned to protect the Governor at all costs, impartially and in spite of prior allegiances to any family or other governmental body. Their standard dress is crimson armor, with helmets, gauntlets, boots, scabbards and various buckles tinted gold. Their present commander is one Farley Darrell, the first woman to hold the position. The Peerless have no direct connection with the city watch, though many former watch officers do apply for a position on account of already having the requisite martial training.

Fyrdaellan Faith: Avontyne's dominant religious organization. Pre-war Avontyne played host to a panoply of deities that existed within the same body of mythology. Fyrdaella, a goddess of the harvest and fertility, was preeminent in Avontyne at the time of the war, and her priesthood took active steps afterwards to discourage worship of competiting gods and goddesses. Doing so was not terribly difficult, as Fyrdaella's chief interests suited the agenda and purpose of the reconstruction effort. The post-war Faith essentially had tacit permission from the administration of the time to close down rival shrines, though this effort never approached the level of unpleasantness associated with, say, the Spanish Inquisition. As a result of this, anyone who delves into the old mythology and finds a deity they would prefer to worship must do privately. The Faith still actively discourages the publishing of texts promoting worship of other entities (a simple task, given that printing is still costly and difficult in Avontyne). Beyond some paranoia about maintaining its monopoly, however, the Faith's day-to-day duties seem largely benign.

Traditionally neutral in political matters, the Faith has thus far refrained from openly supporting any side in the city's ongoing social drama--much to the annoyance of those in both major factions, as well as to some within the priesthood's infrastructure. Some cynical observers suggest the priesthood is waiting for one side or the other to gain an obvious advantage. Others note that it has been able to operate freely only because of governmental noninterference and that neutrality is an effort to avoid endangering this luxury. The current high priestess is Kryla Virana Sesyie.

Incidentally, the symbol most often associated with Fyrdaella is a ring with four zigzagging spokes within it, spaced ninety degrees apart and not quite meeting in the center. Quite frequently the ring is twisted upon itself to only have one side (think of an O-shaped Moebius strip). She is also sometimes linked to image of a swan in mythology and remains associated with it despite the fact that the species is, to the best of everyone's knowledge, quite extinct.

Fyrdaella's priests and priestesses traditionally wear green and blue, and they are a common sight on Avontyne's streets. Not only are they permitted to marry, but higher officials within the organization are traditionally expected to be mothers. The fact that the present high priestess is not (she claims to be a virgin) is a matter of some consternation among some of her subordinates.

Margranth University: Founded fifty years or so before the war to be an institution exclusively devoted to the instruction and study of magic, its business nowadays is somewhat different, now training those able to afford the attendance fees fields such as medicine and law. However, for those demonstrating unusually high affinity for the use of magic, University attendance is mandatory by law, at least long enough for the staff to certify them as being fully in control of themselves. While instruction for such people is nominally free (it being primarily intended for the benefit of the city rather than the student), such is not precisely the case. In order to ensure that these powerful individuals are never forced to exploit their abilities for mere survival (that is, to make sure the University doesn't wind up training high-powered bandits), they are also trained for employment in administration or business to improve their prospects afterwards (this sometimes proves a ticket to the good life for those born in mean circumstances). The University expects graduates to eventually pay it back for this training if they were not able to do so in advance, and sometimes helps place them in new occupations to ensure this. Oftentimes, this practice has the effect of binding the outgoing trainees to the establishment (not an unintentional side-effect).

The University's current Chancellor is on Joran Bigod. Its day-to-day administrative rulings are determined by a board of directors that includes the Chancellor and a variable number of other current instructors/former staff members, usually in the vicinity of four to eight individuals (in the event of a tie vote, the Chancellor's side wins). The University also has grounds outside of the city, an open area where those whose focus is on more kinetic or explosive phenomena can be tested with less risk to property.

Honre Nathaline's: The city's sanitarium. Although better off citizens who have no wish to care for senile relatives may deposit them here in relatively fine apartments reserved for that purpose, much of the establishment is a dumping ground for vagrants. The conditions for many patients are none too pleasant. Think of the place the elderly Salieri wound up in Amadeus and you've got the right idea.

Avontyne also has three major newspapers. Printing for non-governmental purposes was, until very recently, highly illegal (with exceptions for those associated with the University). The present Governor lifted this ban not long after taking office but, in order to not unduly alienate Registry hardliners who relished having a monopoly on the flow of information, implemented a significant fee for those seeking a printing license (one to be paid regularly as long as the license lasts). Occasional underground rags and broadsheets are circulated or pasted by night on public buildings, but obtaining, concealing and using anything as bulky as a printing press illicitly is not an easy task. The three legitimate city papers are as follows:

Clarion: The official mouthpiece of government policy. Clarion generally refrains from social commentary; its concern is relaying the ongoing business of government to the populace at large, spreading awareness of important health concerns, and motivating people to take an active part in the civic life of their city, in a mostly unostentatious and businesslike fashion. It was the first of the city's newspapers to begin circulation when the ban on printing was lifted, and did so at the behest of Governor Seljut himself--it is still written and edited by his longtime friends and supporters. It can generally be relied upon for dry, straightforward reporting, as long as one doesn't mind the fact that it never questions Seljut's policies. It more closely resembles a community bulletin than it does the mass media we're used to.

Morning Star: Began circulation not long after Clarion, much to Seljut's irritation. Funded by Registry stalwarts, critics argue that its stock-in-trade is towing the party line. It lacks the stylistic flair of its ideological opposite, and hence often lags in circulation as well, but naturally has a loyal audience in those who like to see their own opinions in print.

Reveille: A rabble-rousing rag to those who disagree with its founders, The Reveille entered production immediately after Clarion's debut but saw mass circulation after Morning Star due to funding issues.

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Errata

Local Flavor

Burial: Avontyne's populace has long been in the practice of cremating its dead. This was not predominant before the war, but was adopted wholesale afterwards as a space-saving measure (post-war Avontyne did not have land to spare on graveyards). Though living conditions are nowhere near as harsh as they once were, this trend continues to the present day, though some well-off families instead construct family crypts beneath their property. It is not unusual for rural families to scatter the ashes of loved ones over their fields and crops--a practice which is wholly in line with the philosophy of the Fyrdaellan faith (being generally symbolic of returning to the earth, and renewal) but sometimes disgusts foreigners.

Clothes: The standard fantasy fare will do, really. Though I should mention that no one in Avontyne is going to look askance at a working woman wearing men's clothes if this makes her duties easier (though no lady of means would be caught dead dressed in such a manner).

Currency: The basic unit of currency in Avontyne is the Senka, the same term used in the old empire. Originally derived from a word in an obsolete pre-empire language meaning something like a gesture of trust or confidence. The smaller denomination is a Circa (similarly, a favor). One hundred circas make up a senka (we must abide by a metric system!), and are minted in one-, five-, and twenty-circa coins. Five circas might buy you an apple from a moderately hygienic street vendor.

Deities: As per the Faith, Fyrdaella is the only goddess that watches over Avontyne. She was part of a larger pantheon back in imperial days, however--a fact which forced the Faith to restructure many old myths when they compiled the Sangmyrle, the chief holy text devoted to Fyrdaella (the title uses the dialect of the old pre-war culture that spawned the Mallen pantheon, a conscious decision intended to tie the new Faith to old traditions; the title is variably translated as "Endless Loop" or "Perfect Circle," depending on the scholar one is speaking to) in order to have Fyrdaella consistently be a central figure. In this transition from being one representative of a collective to becoming the One Goddess, Fyrdaella herself acquired many traits not originally ascribed to her, such as appraising the souls of the departed and determining which would be returned to life for another cycle and which would be extinguished forever.

However, in isolated pockets and individuals, worship of other old gods continues (generally in secret). Some of these include: Dornath/Cuesniet, the dual-persona anthropomorphization of destruction and renewal; Engmaen, chief of gods, a master of the elements and a ceasless tinkerer, characterized as being emotionally detached and superbly logical in his endless quest to improve his grand creation; Haenglin the moon-goddess, frequently associated with death; Pasnik the cloud-dweller, patron of music and the arts; and Lakshrima, many-armed maiden of war and punishment.

Holidays: To be completed. However, Avontyne's holidays generally focus on the harvest and benchmarks like solstices and equinoxes.

Livestock and Produce: Due in large part to careful management by the Registry/BLM coalition in early years, Avontyne maintained sufficient breeding stock to replenish the population of cows, chickens, horses and sheep (wool is a noteworthy trade product). Potatoes account for a considerable amount of acreage on Avontyne's farms and were a staple food throughout the lean years.

Music: Chamber music (primarily utilizing string instruments) is popular among the upper classes. The primary keyboard instrument is the harpsicord. Wind instruments (such as flutes) and guitars are common, but thought of by some as suitable only for "peasant music."

Nomenclature: Citizens of Avontyne are referred to simply as "Avons," though outsiders may occasionally use "Avvies" instead (usually derisively). The same trend generally applies to objects or ideas originating from Avontyne (minus the pluralization). Along similar lines, "Kalben" is used to indicate an origin of Kalbemarle, and "Corentine" for Corentin. Occasionally someone in Avontyne will use the term "Mallen" to indicate a connection with the old empire of Maelle, but this is generally considered pretentious.

Timekeeping: For the sake of my own sanity, I'm not renaming the days of the week or the months of the year. I'm all about fabricating as much detail as possible for a fictional setting, but you have to draw the line somewhere.

Issues

Avontyne's current political divide did not arise on account of policy differences; it was primarily a matter of social competition. The merely rich objecting to the influence of the extremely rich and vice versa. There are some common views held by the respective leaders of each faction, though, unsurprising since they largely come from different backgrounds. Many of these concern the question of whether the Registry is still necessary and, if so, how extensive its role should be. Beyond that, a couple other points are divisive:

-Suspicion of foreigners remains strong among much of Avontyne's population. This is understandable to a certain extent--prior to twenty years ago, the city's last contact with the outside world was a global war that almost obliterated it. Some hostility is to be expected. Not long after regular commerce was reestablished, however, an imported Kalben plague laid waste to a twentieth of Avontyne's population. Many remain bitter about this, despite the fact the same thing happened to Kalbemarle (both cities being isolated for two centuries, each had its share of independantly evolved bacteria to which the other side had little resistance). The effects of all this are various, but gradually receding. It's worth noting that it was made illegal for outsiders to own property in Avontyne not long after the first Kalben traders showed up--a decision which was overturned by the current Governor five years ago.

-Tariffs and import duties. Relax, the RP doesn't involve economics discussions. Obviously it's far far from an exciting subject, but nevertheless it's important to mention considering the fact that many of the new rich made their fortunes from trading with Kalbemarle and Corentine. This very directly affects their livelihood and can be used as a weapon against them.

-Avontyne has no standing army. It hasn't since the war stranded it in the middle of a wasteland. It being widely believed (and from all evidence true) for two hundred years that Avontyne was the last bastion of humanity, maintaining an idle band of soldiers was deemed a needless expense when all hands were needed to rebuild the city and reclaim the land. The Watch kept order within the city and the richer families eventually acquired their own private corps of guards for their own defense (and the occasional feud). This has resurfaced as an issue in the wake of contact with Kalbemarle, but some counter that a land invasion remains an impossibility and any sea-bound raid too expensive and risky to worry about. And many hardliners simply oppose the existence of an armed force that does not report directly to the Registry.

Citizens Famous and Infamous

The following two individuals should be familiar to all citizens by reputation alone, if not actual acquaintence:

Governor Seljut: After the initial contact with Kalbemarle, the governor at the time, elderly and ill of health, responded to social changes in a manner that could only be described as violently reactionary. After his natural death, the Registry stalwarts decided it best to appoint someone much younger, more personable, and with notably moderate views, in order to dispel bad feeling left over from Governor Mardek's downward spiral. They chose Nifsan Seljut, an up-and-coming BLM administrator of temperate views who they perceived to be easily malleable. This proved to be a miscalculation. Seljut immediately set about implementing his own agenda without paying heed to established power structures--a fact which quickly earned him enemies on both sides. Not loyal enough for Registry officials, not radical enough for the upstarts, Seljut is increasingly isolated in the midst of Avontyne's social schism, with only a few old friends and an eroding band of moderates to reliably carry out his orders.

Audra Susanna Locrise: Referred to alternately as "The Lady of Masks," The Lich, or "that old bag of bones," according to the disposition of the speaker. Scion of an old aristocratic family and heir to a fortune in land and businesses, she chose the path of a scholar rather than that of indolence. Twelve years ago, through means still unknown to any save herself, Audra underwent a transition to a being out of legend. Soon after, amidst much scandal, she retreated to her country estate, returning to the city only often enough to retain certain privileges with the University. How she spends her time, and what exactly she looks like now, are still matters of considerable debate as well as the subjects of urban legends. She would be a powerful asset if one could figure out what she wants--and bear the stigma of allying with the undead.

Terminology

Schema: The organizing theme within which an individual's magical abilities are focused, be it affinity to a certain type of material, phenomenan, or concept. Note that experienced magic-users can have multiple schema, though they are more often related in some way.

Prima: The method of activation some magic-users must employ before making use of their powers. Not all magic-users require such methods; for experts, thought alone is sufficient.