The new century has just dawned on Eretha and all things are possible. It is an age of turmoil, an age of opportunity, and an age that will shape the face of the world forever. Eretha is a massive world, its northern continent home to two major empires. To the east of the Terra Spinum Mountains is Durnalis the Shinning Land, a place of valor, honor and righteousness where men with justice. To the south of the Caran Mountains is Uruadum, an empire founded on bloodshed and murder, the seat of power of the Great Fiends and the Demon Lord Raughir Cil-na-Durog, the Dungwalme, the Great Bat, the Scourge of Man. Nearly forgotten now are the Anhel Elves in their forest or island realms to the west and north of the great Rogothain Plains. Hidden in their mountains on the end of the Terra Spinum along the coast are the Gharin Dwarves. Scattered between these legends and these empires are the crumbling remains of ancient kingdoms of Rathain and Caldera. The wild tribes of the Rogo travel the distance between the sea and the desolate lands of Drakkar. But like a tarnished pearl forgotten in the corner sits a small city that has stood the test of time.
Carnac is the 'Free City', controlled by no empire, outlasting its founders, outliving its masters, and open to all manner of folks, good or bad, rich or poor. It is this hub city that will be the center of all hopes, and the place where those hopes may be crushed. For the last year the politics of the aristocrates of the city have left the Lord Mayor's position is jeopardy, weakened by political backstabbing, and the rise of organized crime. Yet while the sins of the city begin to wash over it, the blood of the victims drains down into a deeper cesspool of vileness. Below the streets the sewers of Carnac are a honeycomb of mazes, tunnels, and catacombs. For the last one hundred years Grunlings have warred with one another unseen by the men above. The tribes have carved out petty domains beneath the streets, worshiping various totems, the rat, the snake, the jackal, the beetle, the spider, but above them all has always been the bat. The Great Bat that gave them life, that provides them darkness, and grants them their favorite past time - war.
We begin our travels in a little used tunnel off a northern spur deep under area of the city known as The Maze above it. A conclave has begun among the Tribe of the Rat. The great Warlord Ik'irt has called his tribe together and the foul Grunlings have arrived. The stench that fills the sewers is nothing compared to the smell that emits from a conclave of Grunlings. The burning smell of roasting flesh, the bodily functions that go along with eating and feasting, the sweaty blood soaked stank of combat mingles with all the natural smells found in the sewers makes the small cavern a place where no man would dare to stand. Torches sputter in random places along the walls of the small chamber. Human skulls turned upside down and filled with oil burn casting dark red lights and darker shadows about the damp area. Bones and feces litters the floor, puddles of waste water, old and new pool throughout the chamber, and the Grunling children stomp and play in them. Smoke hangs in the air, choking the air, and creating a dark pallor that lingers above like storm clouds.
In the middle of the area a fight breaks out, two Grunling warriors trading insults, and then blades. A third steps into with a spiked club basting out the brains of both of them. The Warlord Ik'irt removes his club from the skull of one of the lesser Grunlings and tips his head back, bellowing out a primal feral howl calling the conclave to order. He pushes and clubs his way through the throngs of Grunlings, for this tribe is strong, nearly 40 able bodied warriors, and as much as that in young and females ripe for breeding. His club catches another runt that is to slow to move out of his way as he makes his way to the dais at one end of the chamber.
He climbs the steps to his throne, which is nothing more than a large stone covered in fur hides and lizard scales to make a perch for him. Around it are ringed the skulls of various kills, both animal, vermin and grunling. He climbs up onto his seat and gazes out over his tribe, behind him the crude painting on the wall of a giant rat hides among the shadows of the torches.
