Myr (Meer)
Demographics
A significant portion of Myr is comprised of the undead. Countless bodies have been animated time and time again, leashed into manual labour both on deck and within the city itself. Of those that still live and possess a heartbeat, Hanzers make up the largest demographic. Despite being far away, and hardly the most ideal freeport for renegades to flee to, the influence those trained in the arts of engineering possess is considerable. Next in line are the Naggarn slavers, those who deal in that bleakest crime, incapable of finding a buyer in their own country. Few lands tolerate this practice, and so to the dead must the living go in order to practice their malice.
Of the undead, the majority of them are basic constructions. Still sentient after a fashion, the skeletons, zombies and wraiths live a melancholic existence beneath the boot of Galicia and her crew. Next are the archosti, forming the largest part of the piratical crews, they are represented heavily within the city. They are led by the rare revenant, and the even rarer mortal captain who in turn answer to the Vampyr. Of these there are but two, Galicia and Lalfey, who swore to spread no further the black curse of Castir. Ancient, immortal and possessed by the twin blights of compassion and madness, they rule Myr with an iron fist.
Government
Though technically an authoritarian hell ruled by a lunatic reaver obsessed with violence and increasingly lost to their bloodlust, Myr in truth operates more akin to an ancient feudal society. Galicia is far too distracted by her pleasures to take a direct hand in its governance, and Lalfrey is possessed of a calmer temperment, using her position to cement alliances and to protect her sister from mutiny.
As such, captains within The Choir control parts of the town, gaining and losing territory as they gain and lose favour with The Corsair Queen. In exchange for this 'authority', the captains are expected to hand over a portion of their piratical and mercantile earnings to Galicia, and provide her with ships and sailors too when she calls for a raid. Within these small domains then, are a dozen different laws, rules and even styles of governance. The safest rule to assume however, is do not mess with the captain's crew, or you might find yourself joining regardless of your wish.
This makes Myr essentially a freeport, for most captains are willing to bend their own dictates for the right amount of coin. Skirmishes between rival crews are commonplace, battles for single streets and the right to tax lucrative merchants occur frequently, and as long as they do not spiral out of control, Lalfrey is happy to allow the lesser ranks to target one another, rather than her and her sister. Should Myr come under threat however, the entire town unifies in its defence. Old rivalries are abandoned, grudges settled and set sail does the graven fleet of Myr to war.
Defences
Myr embodies the very element of defense through raw, unmitigated violence. It is precariously built out of fragile materials, lacking any form of defensive perimeter or common militia to guard its borders. Instead, it relies upon the incredibly treacherous terrain to protect it. Small groups struggle enough as it is, let alone any form of large army or contingent of troops. Such attempts have been made in the past, and all have failed tragically, the waters claiming their due without compromise or relent.
An attack by sea then, is the only feasible idea, and such would require one to overcome not just the combined naval might of the Myran, not just navigate the ship-wreck strewn waters, but also then board and assault a city entirely dedicated now to your destruction. The Corpse-Crews may not be the most talented combat force, but they are numerous and without number, and within the warrens and tunnels lurk the great batteries that can be drawn out when needed, and turn to fire upon those foolish enough to tread foot in Galicia's realm.
This then last protection is perhaps the most effective, for Myr is home to the Daughters of Gravesong, the Vampyr heirs of Castir whose black power is terrible beyond even the ken of any mortal and, perhaps, most divinity. With such all said and done, one must hope then to overcome all this, or else accept your fate. For those who fail to bring destruction to Myr, will find The Black Flag flying off their coast, and the murderous attention of Galicia directed wholly towards them.
Industry & Trade
The industries of Myr are dedicated entirely to the continuance and success of their piratical way of life. From the great forges, to the sailmakers to the crew of every ship, all is turned towards the corsair's life with abandon. This then, in truth, is the only 'real' industry of Myr. When its vessels return from the hunt, the markets are flooded with stolen treasures and goods of all kind, exchanged handily for coin, luxuries and even greater tools of war.
Those who seek these treasures come from all over. Smugglers, criminals and merchants without too many scruples to mar their business practice, each and all barter coin for the plunder of the Ragpirates. This rampant greed is the lifeblood of Myr, and the reason that drives so many into their foul ranks.
Infrastructure
The town of Myr is a crude edifice, yet impressive in its own way. A city on stilts that hangs over the cliff's edge and descends all the way down to the deep ocean below, it is a marvel of jury-rigged engineering and a testament to the power of prayer. Within the cliff itself, warrens run thick beneath the land, being home to the more vital structures required for the town's survival. Great forges belch out black smoke, laughter and music echo from the manor's of dread captains, and strange creatures guard armouries filled with stolen weaponry, ammunition and dark artefacts.
Those structures existing on the outside, however, live a more perilous life. Ocean storms and even the occasional hurricane pass through this region, and cast many of the lighter structures to the depths below. To combat this, great networks of rope tie these structures together, so that should they be blown away, they will instead be caught upon the web, and left hanging. Many of the strange routes that comprise this city were formed as people built new bridges and lifts to their 'relocated' homes. In essence, Myr is a scaffold city, with all the structural integrity of paper caught in the storm.
Districts
Officially, there are no areas off-limits to travellers and wanderers. Unofficially, one is as welcome to travel as they are welcome to risk their eternal lives exploring the factional intrigues of the Corpse-Crews. In short, districts exist as defined by the feudal borders drawn by the feuding captains, and change dramatically day by day, as manipulations, betrayals and outright conflict redefine the patchwork politics of this benighted town. That said, there are a few more... 'permanent' regions within the city:
- Jain's Quarter: The Jain is an oddity, even by the standards of Myr. An exile from Jainir, he is the mad and nameless engineer behind the continued survival of the Ragships forming Galicia's fleet. This part of town is formed by over a dozen warrens networked together through ashen tunnels and smoke-filled caverns, each one churning out artillery, weaponry and worse for the corsair forces. That said, any may find assistance here, provided they supply both the metal and the corpses needed to fuel the Barrow-Forges. None are foolish enough to challenge The Jain for his territory, for not only does he enjoy Galicia and Lalfrey's protection, but his arsenal is filled with lunatic inventions that not even he fully understands.
- The Chorus: The Chorus is the colloquial name for the vast docks positioned at the base of the city. Here, the Ragships await sailing, undergoing repair, retrofitting, and recuperation, awaiting the call for war once more. The captains are incredibly protective of their ships, and at all times is the dock guarded by the countless factions, their crew happier to ask questions of visitors after their body has cooled. That said, those brave enough to dare these paths will find no greater a collection of insane mercenaries and dreadful pirates, all of whom can be yours... for a price.
- Gehinnom: Not really a district in truth, Gehinnomn is the flagship vessel of Myr, and the personal ship of 'Queen' Galicia. So vast is this behemoth, that in port it serves as the primary market of the city, with traders of all stripes arriving upon word of its docking, eager to pay a king's ransom to declare their wares from its legendary bowels. It also serves as the foundation for The Festival of Flowers, the month long celebration of Galicia and Lalfrey's undeath, during which their holds are opened for all to peruse and purchase the wonders they have stolen.
Assets
What is not kept within the town of Myr? In truth, it is difficult to define what assets it is in possession of, as each captain guards their vaults with jealousy, and countless trinkets and relics change hands every day. For certain is the town well-stocked, perhaps overly-stocked, with weaponry and armaments. Hundreds of cannons lie careful in caves, endless barrels of black powder stored safely in deep cracks within the earth. Ammunition is never in doubt, and when times are difficult, countless coins from countless countries lie in great hidden staches, scattered throughout the town and its network beneath.
That said, the most valuable possession in the town are the ships. Five ships of the line call this place home, a further fifty-one frigates and smaller in attendance to their might, each one a veteran of a hundred battles, each one the cause of brutal strife and terror. So thick is their legacy of blood and ruin that their Cryptics are terrible indeed, capable of possessing the vessels and driving them themselves, regardless of the wish or ability of the captain that rules them. Leashed to the cliff, shadowed hounds baying for blood, this is the true treasure of Myr, the carnage bound to bolt and timber. Above all of them, however, lies Gehinnom, The Black Flag of Myr and divine spirit of shipwreck and ocean grave. There is no price on such a thing, for alone can it send whole fleets to the storm, and with each battle does it only grow stronger.
Of near equal value however, are the great Barrow-Forges. These terrible furnaces are the product of dark magic and ephermeral science, able to re-forge flesh as easily as metal, working the soul as much as the bonds of iron and steel. Fuelled not just by coal and ash, but by the corpses of those too unfortunate to escape, it is through these devices that the Ragships are maintained, and the more terrible creations of the corsairs are designed.
Guilds and Factions
It should be of no surprise that the political scene of Myr is dominated by the factional infighting of various captains and their crews. Few dynasties last long, for those who prosper quickly find themselves targeted by the others, eager to band together and feed on the carrion of their reputation. That said, a few have established more... permenant entities within the chaos, and sustain their endeavours through ruthless action and brutal oppression.
- Galicia's Crew: As the leader of Myr, one of the fabled Daughters of Gravesong, and standing amongst the most dangerous and psychotic individuals within the swamp, it is of no surprise that those serving directly beneath her banner possess intense clout. In fairness, none would dare challenge the The Princess Bedlam for her domain, for such an uprising would be met with immediate and borderline historical brutality. Fortunately, she does not doubt her position, and only those that directly draw her ire risk suffering a death too terrible to tell.
- The Court of Lalfrey: The calm and wise sister of 'Queen' Galicia, Lalfrey is a sublime diplomatic, reassured and sharp of wit. It is she who maintains at least some sense of structure within the town of Myr, handles those disputes that threaten to engulf the realm, and dispose of those that might prove complicated in future days. Her crew is, likewise, a subtle crowd, recruited from those whose talents lie, not with seamanship, but in spycraft. Little happens that Lalfrey does not hear, and nothing of which she does not at least tacitly approve.
- The Ashbaron Di'Voor: A downright deranged and completely fanatical servant of The Pyre, Di'Voor and his crew are a band of religious zealots masquerading as pirates. Bound by ancient oath to The Cinderwood, they believe truly in spreading the flame, hoping to devour the world utterly in its embrace, so that something new, and less corrupt, can begin to grow. For now, Galicia's psychotic rampages complement their beliefs, and so they tolerate the foul sickness that courses through her veins. One day, however, this will change; the cold breath of death will meet the flame at last.
- The Knights Errant: A Corpse-Crew comprised nearly entirely of members from Penchanter nobility, they are a strange breed. Bound still by codes of honour and chivalry, despite their small number they possess a sizeable influence within Myr. Perhaps due to the martial training they had all received before death or, more likely, due to the fact that their comradeship precludes intercinine violence, few are willing to challenge them for their territory, nor find umbrage with the mercy and compassion they show.
History
Myr was founded in 13/25/03, a decade after The Crowfather was banished from the continent, and declared slain at last by the scions of Naggarn. His first and most flawed creation, Castamir Gravesong, had fled to The Ashweald, hiding from the world as they were devoured by their sin. There, lost in dark fury and nearly berserk, Castamir would sire thirteen children, gifting upon them his foulest curse and marking them as vampyr; yet dead but still alive.
Of these, Galicia and Lalfrey, pirates already and possessed of callous heart, would return once more to their reaving ways. Gifted now with abilities beyond the ken of the mortal form, they would turn their once legend into a true damning infamy. Many would flock to their banner, the years turning Myr from a simple port into a thriving town beneath The Black Flag, the plunder of a thousand ships fuelling a greed that care not from whence its treasures came. Galicia would slowly descend into the same madness as her sire, and Lalfrey would work day and night to keep it contained; Myr reflecting now both this incessant and uncontrolled bloodlust restrained barely by the caution of the cold and cynical. Slowly, as more captains joined their ranks, Myr would become divided, the apathy of Galicia fuelling a gangland politic that thrives still to this day.
That is the history of Myr, a simple explanation without much finesse. Unmitigated violence, after all, rarely needs much excuse.
Points of interest
A ragtag settlement of shanty houses and barely maintained structures, it is perhaps possible to suggest that what is worth visiting is that which has survived more than a few years. This aside, there are a few sites of true important to the town's propserity, and places of such unique brutality that few realms would imagine constructing them, let alone spending coin and labour upon their existence.
- Gehinnom: A true marvel, Gehinnom is a masterpiece of Anima and foul intent. One of the largest vessels to ever sail, its hull is the amalgamation of a dozen ships rent asunder and fed to the forges, an abomination of both Cryptic soul and shipwright's art.
- The Wight Anvil: The largest of the Barrow-Forges, this lunatic piece of engineering consists of multiple vast caverns bound together by glint piping and mortis pyres. When lit, the screams of those that feed its flame echo endlessly throughout the tunnels, each cavern bathed in a brilliant blue light that begs and pleads to be saved. From it come the terrible weapons of Gehinnom, and the mad constructs devised by The Jain.
- The Pyroclast: A temple by any other name, dedicated in totality to The Pyre. It guards a simple piece of stone, a remnant of The Cinderwood's battle against The Maw, and from which Di'Voor manifests his blessings upon the crew. It is said that ever does it burn, casting a pale light throughout the shrine, feeding visions of a future flame to those that swear to the inferno.
- The Myran Market: The point of conflux when Gehinnom is at sea, the Myran Markets are a cornacopia of illicit and stolen goods, ranging from luxuries to the most foul of armaments and forbidden tomes. No matter what vice you seek to fulfill, what bargain you wish to make, there is no doubt one may find it here... at a price, and still bloody from its previous owner.
Tourism
Those who visit Myr often do so out of pure amorality, or desperation. A point of civilsation within the fetid swamps, many find themselves obliged to enter to escape the dangers of the brackish water. These visitors stay only for a short while, recovering from their injuries before departing, happier to face the vile wilderness than what malice made of mortal form within Myr's demesne. Those who choose to come here, whose path was destined to enter, are the worst kind of people. Those who are happy to make their coin and bargain their souls with the foulest sorts, apathetic and uncaring from where their spoils come.
Those that find their way to Myr often stay with a local captain, offering service or access to goods in exchange for a safe haven. Those witohut such luxury make use of the various taverns and sailor's halls that dot the town, though many find themselves liberated of their possessions, or press-ganged into service aboard one of the many Ragships.
Architecture
Made as they are from fluit, the sickly timber of The Ashweald's most common tree, the structures of Myr are suspectible to many forms of mildly aggrieved weather. This is a necessity, unfortunately, for anything more durable would not be able to balance upon the precarious bridges that run down the side of the cliff. It also possesses certain inflammable qualities, being damp most of the time and capable of absorbing large amounts of water. This has the effect of making Myr a novel place to visit, for many of the houses and buildings will warp day by day, leaving the architecture unique upon every passing.
The style is mostly unique however, though obvious influences from the northern countries of Thedor and Thenia can be found in much of the construction within the town. Floral arrangements are common, woven inbetween the planks that form the foundations of their homes, and sharp facades designed to avoid catching the frequent rain are predominant. Many of the buildings are circular, the larger ones being somtimes hexagonal, a trick devised to handle the storm winds that blow from The Ashuran Ocean, their profiles kept flat to avoid weak joints in the face of such weather. This has the added benefit of being easy to repair and easy to construct, a common consideration when ones abode may just dissapear any day.
Stone structures are a rarity, both due to a lack of suitable material nearby, and the stress such weight would add to the fragile construct that is Myr. Most looking for a more permenant structure will dig one out of the cliff-face, creating small warrens filled with smoke from the nearby Barrow-Forges, that are unliveable for all but the dead.
Geography
The land of Myr is entirely inhospitable. A good third of the town rests upon a dank swamp, lifted above the ever-moving waters and land by long stilts that sway precariously in the lightest of breezes. The rest scales down the cliff face, all the way to the bottom where the great ports contain the armada of Galicia and her Corpse-Crews. There is no natural source of freshwater, rather such is provided by the Ashbaron, whose followers utilise the blessing of The Pyroclast to boil huge amounts of swamp water for the mortal inhabitents to consume. This comes at a price, naturally, and ensures his cult maintains a prominent position in local politics.
The coastal section is a marvel however, for it is one of the largest natural ports in Amilyn. Protected from the worst of the storms by the thick cliff faces that surround it, and deep enough to anchor even the largest vessels, it is easily fortified and perfect for those whose lives, or rather, unlives, are spent at sea.
Natural Resources
Myr is possessed of nearly no natural resources, surviving and thriving instead of what it steals from others unfortunate enough to be caught. Too sickly to raise crops or livestock, barren of worthwhile minerals, the only substance of note produced in the region is tar, and rarely is it shared beyond the borders of the town. For maritime town, such resources are stockpiled with care and used in abundance to ensure their way of life.
Fluit is also found in great abundance in the rivers that run beneath the stilt city, but such can hardly be considered unique. There is no industry behinds its collection, rather, individuals fish it out of the waters as they need it, building their houses and providing cosmetic repairs to their vessels. Outside of The Ashweald, the wood has nearly no utility, and so there it stays to rot within the rivers.
Founding Date
13/25/03
Alternative Name(s)
North-Weald, Galicia's Den
Type
Town
Population
10,500
Inhabitant Demonym
Myran
Location under
Owner/Ruler
Additional Rulers/Owners
Ruling/Owning Rank
Owning Organization
Vehicles Present
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