Gy'veorn
"The young man lies upon the altar, though he knows not. Priests chitter around him as their droning sounds fill the stagnant air. One places a hand over his eyes, the blueish skin hiding him from the inevitable, forbidding him, even now, a moment of reason. Moments later, he lay dead, his blood pooling down the uneven stone stairs. We could have stopped it."
A cracked monolith lies in the center of the Gy'veorn Empire, lost within The Burning Wastes. Thousands cry unto their uncaring gods, many of whom revel in the despair that their followers experience. Others plead with newer, rival gods, shedding tears as the 'gods' demand their souls for the promise of a better life. Some leave the city walls, welcoming the dangers as they attempt to escape The New Light, though none have ever succeeded. What becomes of them is unknown, as restless sands whip through the desert air, swallowing any attempting to flee this domain.
Priests walk through these lands, dark hoods hiding their strange, bestial faces. Whispers from madmen in dark places claim they have seen their true faces during the witching hours when no one else was there to witness it. Faces of snarling jackals, maws like serpents, and the tendrils of the beasts that lurk deep within the seas are all descriptions given, though conflicting with one another. These madmen have been shunned, ignored, or beaten, yet recent events have caused many to reconsider their warnings.
Structure
Gy'veorn is the scourge that banishes the darkness, the only remaining civilization that hasn't succumbed to the Outsiders. Their Empire is comprised of many rival city-states, each ruling with autonomy in exchange for resources to the current Emperor. At times of peril, a tenth of their able-bodied population is required to travel to the Capital in defense of the Empire. Few are foolish enough to defy the edict. Though the City of Braal-Ash turns a blind eye to most of the other Cities, the scourge may be brought upon its own at any moment. Those who return from the military conquests tell of the wonders of Braal-Ash, the thousand gates, and the labyrinthine walls that protect it.
Yet, they're never quite the same.
Despite the Empire's combined might, the sovereigns are weak and fight over petty disagreements, blood wetting the formerly arable lands between each city. The Emperor's undisputed authority has been lost, culled by the many cults that have taken root in their lands. Some of these have grown unexpectedly, overshadowing the nobles. Nothing happens apart from their knowledge; every newborn is numbered. These priests perform birth rites, and the destiny of each child is predetermined moments before the iron bands are placed upon them.
Culture
Theirs is a culture of work, toil, and despair. Rising, ghastly hands grasp onto them, dragging them down once more, back into the struggles that living in the heartless cities offers. The young die, mourned only in passing. Those who live long enough to see their hair turn grey have oftentimes forgone their humanity.
Winged devils feed upon the flesh of those that fled outside the city's walls, and hooded devils feast upon the resolve of those within, savoring the moments when hope turns to despair. Death, which rides upon the scorching winds, is the only thing truly consistent, a god of its own that has been worshiped before even the Orcs found these lands. The once-bellicose people have become stoic, hardened to the plights of others, alongside their own. They accept whatever role they're placed into, rarely wishing to trouble others with concerns or thoughts.
Public Agenda
The Children of The New Light have hidden cultists infiltrating all aspects of the cities they've encountered. Their strange temples are built with sacrificial offerings to their gods. Each sacrifice, they claim, is leading them towards a new era of peace. They promise that the rain will return, and the barren wastes will again find abundant growth.
Yet, despite his outward support of their efforts, the Emperor of Gy'veorn works against these cultists, though it may mean the end of all life. Secret messages are sent to the many other kings through the palace magi, one word in the old tongue is repeated: Rebirth.
History
Gy'veorn has always been a superstitious people, who have embraced many gods and allowed the religious freedoms of those outside their cities to flourish. When The Gods Storm hit, wanderers from beyond the storm appeared among them, lost and confused. They called themselves the Eldri, and brought new gods with them. These new gods swallowed the old religions, exiling or executing former members, such as those of the Iron Priests.
Their history was soon considered myth.
Demography and Population
Six massive city-states, each holding nearly twenty thousand in each, makes up Gy'veorn.
For the Gods
The Empire has no official currency. Instead, they use a series of crafted tokens for each promise of a later exchange, elegantly carved by local artisans. The promised material is depicted similarly to chess pieces, though a wealthy patron may have additional designs to express the extent of the purchase.
A commoner, for example, may offer a single wooden goat, four inches in diameter, as a promissory token. A merchant may offer a similar goat, though larger and more defined. There could be symbolism included in the exchange, allowing for additional gifts or conditions to be represented with a single token. After the exchange, the token is burned, signifying the transaction is completed.
Suspicion
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