The Infinite Plain stretches out farther than even imagination can fly, drifting on the bed of nothingness above the gennunga gap, and lying beneath the coils and uncountable twinkling eyes of the universe serpent. This has been so since the gods were lost. Lost to time, lost to memory and relinquished of the faith of mortal-kind.
In an age of plenty in all regards, When mortalkind had no wants, the pantheons of the gods went to War. perhaps there were too many gods, perhaps there was too few worshipers, but when the gods began to fight, the parts of the world they controlled and maintained were laid aside and forgotten. The Arcane, the Divine, and the Natural controls that had so carefully been balanced became unstable. Great floating cities fell when the magics holding them up failed, crushing whatever lay in their path, other cities burned or were overrun by wildlife. The dead roamed, raised and sustained by fell magics. Crops Failed or mutated in eldritch fashion leading to both famines and widespread disease that neither magic nor prayer could. Millions were slain by the divine fallout of gods and their host directly attacking temples or worship sites of rival gods. The very fabric of reality thinned and began to shear, allowing access from beyond.
Nine beings of mortal kin took up the task of confronting the gods. They travelled using every means at their disposal, with difficulty travelling through the planes of existence, across space, and time, in order to gather all the gods in one audience for an appeal at peace.
They Failed.
The gods un-restrainable fury was too much, too many bruised egos and too much wounded pride concentrated in one place. So much had already been done that no-one wanted to reconcile and everyone had a score to settle. Each god smote eight others. Their mantles of power fled, their vestiges of control shattered, and the personas and form that belief had crafted for them dispersed. The holy places and temples burned, or were swallowed by the land, and all remaining supplicants fled.
Nothing was left of the gods.
The universe unwound, the planes merged and were smashed together into a single sheet.
Nothing remained.
Nothing but the plain. All planes mixed together in an infinite flat sheet.
As for the nine no-one knows what became of them.
They remain unknown and mostly un-remembered
-
I’Tahn yawned in the hot summer sun. He Idly wiped sweat off his forehead and grimaced. He had thought being a guard in the Hub city of the plain. would be “Dashing” or “Exciting” or at least “interesting”. He had had dreams of moonlight chases across rooftops or hopping from spire to spire, and sting operations against underground organizations plotting nefarious. His grand-Uncle had been a captain of the watch and the stories he told made i’Tahn ‘s blood sing of glory. Mostly it had been hard training in recruitment camp, under a drunken sargeant and then active duty had simply been standing still for hours at a time with nothing but your thoughts. Or occasionally slow meanderings throughout the merchant district with a more senior guardsman to watch for burglery. Nothing particularily exciting happened in the west end except the occasional drunken bar fight and then the Bouncers typically took care of things before a guard arrived so all there was to do was simply drag a groaning body away and not worry about whatever damp spot you were grabbing. Even that was mildly Interesting in comparison to the time spent baking at the least used gates in the second-summer sun. Arching his back and sighing heavily he turned to the other guard on duty.
“Does anything interesting ever happen or do we just stand here melting”? he asked. “I think my brains are starting to hard-boil with all this waiting for nothing.”
“Thats fine.” chuckled I’Dan. “You never use your brains anyhow. Why look for trouble?”
I’Dan sighed. He was older by a few years and his orcish heritage was clear in his face. His grey-olive green skin was a dead ringer, and the tusks jutting out of his lower jaw could be used to moor ships.
“This gate sees the least traffic because its horizonward of the capital and only small townships are out that way, for the most part. Plus most of the bandits and the like stay away from the Octus unless they have proper stuff to buy or sell.
“Why in the gap would they want to come buy stuff, aren’t they bandits?” I’Tahn snorted, “I would have thought they just take what they want. It’s what I’d do”
“Not if what you want is good ale, good weapons and a pretty little thing dangled on their knee. For that they need to come into town, maybe poke around the shades or even the underhalls.” I’Dan sighed and pulled his helmet up to wipe his damp head.
“The plains can be lonely and unfriendly. Especially as an unfriendly Loner. They still need a place to spend their ill gotten gains and I bet the barkeeps, Madames, and smiths dont mind relieving some certain shadowy fellows of their money. No matter where it came from. I say so long as they cause no trouble coming in why bother them. Besides” He grinned mirthlessly, “They’re better armed then we are.”
I’Tahn grimaced when he remembered the state of his gear. His sword had been a bar of rust in the shape of something resembling a weapon. Four hours with a file and whetstone had made it look more proper but the rust had gone deep and he wasn’t sure the blade could take many impacts. Even still it had been better than the armor, mildewing leather, chain-mail that had rusted solid and a breastplate that had been kicked in and repaired so many times it was mostly one big perforated dent.
-
The Civic guard were neither well loved nor well funded. The lords of the city tried not to expend money where it wasn’t immediately needed. Funds were focused on the districts where the rich lived and at the borders of each octus to discourage travel between for noncommercial reasons. The guards became separate groups policing each segment of the city, and depending where they were posted were given better gear.
Those in the bluffs district had shiny armor and elegant blades, to protect and serve outside the halls and manse’s of the wealthy and noble. They carried large ornate shields and arcane torches that shone through even arcane darkness.
The Shades guards got heavy armor and spears, and moved in platoons whenever an attack was required or when defending storehouses. One member of each platoon was a taught arcane user and had at least three staves under their belt.
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Those guards posted in the spires had a shiny blue uniform, proper chainmail, and nightsticks with shock enchantments on them. They had shiny badges that were often made out of real silver.
Guards who were in the manufacture district and who were posted on the mountain gate had solid armor and solid clubs. They had to use them for cracking the occasional raiding goblin or bandit head.
Those guards shunted to the merchant district and plain gate district were given rust, spit, and more rust.
Merchants typically Hired their own guard as did the guilds and craftsmen. Private guards were easier to outfit than a large militia, so that anyone with the wealth to require guards had their own special force.
This compounded with the institution of the adventurers guild had made it more economic to special hire the people you needed for a specific task. Thus the civic force in the merchant sector had slowly atrophied and lost favor until only the type of person to join was those who wanted an easy job without too much thought or those who heard of past glories from their ancestors, and join up with bright eyes and swelling chests. With the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could become the guard captains of the past.
Rusty helmets and rusty chain quickly covered those eyes and chests, and those too weak or too smart or ambitious were quickly weeded out or sent to other districts as needed. Those unwanted in the other sectors were also moved or traded into the Until finally the Guard in the merchant district consisted of old soldiers, smart slackers, dumb slackers, muscleheads, and bullies in the ranks. Kiss-asses, and nobles second sons, in deputy positions and lazy, corrupt, or apathetic captains at the top.
I’Tahn sighed and picked a sheet of rust off the edge of his breastplate and flicked it away. No-one had been quarter-master for five years, and barely anyone had maintained the arms and armor in storage. When something was damaged you just nipped into the armory and swapped it for something prettier. Now nothing was in good shape but the merchant legion as a whole didn’t seem to worry.
“Besides. If the lords of the octus don’t worry about this gate why should we?” I’Dan swiped at an errant fly. “The only thing attacking here are the bugs. Maybe you could ring the support bell, eh?”
The only part of their kit in good repair was the alarm bell, used to call for help or signal an attack. I’Tahn laughed, even the most veinal lazy corporal would want their bell to be able to ring. When you’re about to get a kicking, whether you deserve it or not, it’s nice to know your back-up is nearby. All the bells shone, especially in contrast to the other metal, which just peeled in the sun.
I’Dan pulled out a long stem pipe and a small circle of glass, then, magnifying the sun’s rays on the bowl, lit it, drew on it, and let out a satisfied stream of smoke. It curled in the breezeless air, flowing across the long gateway and up the cobbled road in spectral shapes.
Which were quickly replaced by an unpleasant, red face. The face was owned by Seargant I’Jack Peti. It was Red because most likely it was angry and indignant. It was unpleasant because this was the base state of Seargant I’Jack Peti. He was always shouty, bossy and bullying which was compounded with a lack of intelligence, a persecution complex, and finally, being 4’9”, a shortman complex. He was also undead, and as a ghost, stuck in the state of mind and voice of how he was as he was dying, which had been mid row with a deserting guardsman.
Someone was definitely about to be chewed out. I’Tahn shifted into a semblance of attention. I’Dan was entirely unconcerned.
“Corporal I’Dan, Corporal I’Tahn what is this shameful display of martial prowess I am witnessing,” the seargant shouted. “you are meant to be the strong shield of the people from the perils of the plains, and yet, what do I see?”
His face got redder, if that was possible.
“Two pitiful worms slouching about!”
Was that spittle?
“Smoking! and I bet you’re hiding drink you dogs!”
Definitely spittle.
“Just sitting and draining the cities resources no doubt! With no shame, wastrels and vermin the lot of you.” The screaming reached a peak and then petered out when the Seargant realized that it was having no effect on I’Dan.
“What are you grinning at ‘Half-Blood’, I can court martial you If I want to and theres not a damn thing you can do. Maybe you want to be relocated to the shades, I can make that happen you know.” He smiled nastily, “don’t like the sound of that do you.”
“No sir.” I’Dan monotoned
“I bet they’d just loooove to have you back” the seargent laughed cruelly. “I hear the street rats reeeally miss you.”
I’Dan couldn’t hide the grimace. “I doubt it. Sir.” He said sir, like someone else might say “Curr”.
“And what do you call yourself, new-bie.” This was pointed at I’Tahn, but before he could respond the seargent kept going.
“You have the look of a keener to me, are you a keener?”
Again without waiting for a response he continued, “I cant stand keeners. Always getting underfoot and just looking shiny. I simply cannot trust anyone that works so hard just to look good.” He shook his head sadly, “Another waste of skin in the watch, If I were in charge things would be different! He nodded as if things were all settled and said “If you don’t smarten up men you wont make it far in this post. Now I must be off, there is so much to do and I know only I can do it properly.”
“ATTENTION!” I’Tahn saluted and I’Dan lazily waved but the seargent had stopped paying attention to them and was striding off as quick as he could march.
I’Tahn looked blearily at I’Dan. You’d think even after weeks of this exact treatment it would be easier. Having a spirit for a sergeant was really inconvenient even at the best of times.
“What did he mean by the street rats?” asked I’Tahn when the sergeants shade had whisked out of sight.
Dan grimaced and spat, expertly spiking a fly to the dirt. "The street rats are what he used to call the thieves and the like before they got organized. Ol' I'Jacks not very good at distinguishing the difference between Orc-kin and so he thinks Im someone else that transferred." A quick grin shows the iconic tusks of his kindred. "Course it means he never writes me up properly, and so I can keep this cozy post."
I'Tahn shook the sweat out of his helmet and mopped his forehead with a rag that looks like it had been used for centuries. "Yeah, its a regular spa out here, practically a sauna. and no one to guard from or let through the gate. What's even the point of guarding here, there's no way enough people dangerous to the city could make it through here."
"Oh? How do you know that? asked I'Dan grinning.
"Because theres only space for two people to cross through, any army would be pinched coming through here, and we could hit them from the ramparts. Besides the people who come through here need to pass the swamps. Anyone in armor would sink."
"What about some legendary hero with magics and old tech, they could easily destroy there way in. You know Arkash the Bloodgiver is still out there, and ever since the Adventurers guild kicked out Grash "One-shark-one-coin" Conrad for "bandit" activity, the bandit activity has actually gotten worse. His magic is weird and his gang members are weirder. You'd think the fact theyre on dry land would mean they would've given up the pirates theme but hey, Its not how you look its the results you hook, as my grandpappy used to say.
I'Dan scratched his green muzzle and flicked a fly off his spear. "Again we can close the gate and ring the bells, then run back to the guardhouse. there we wait for reinforcements or the adventurers guild to step in.
"uuummmm..." I'Tahn thought for a moment, "oh, because they'd be totally decked out in armor and cool weapons and have like magic and stuff around them, we'd notice anyone actually threatening to the Octus coming." He grinned it was obvious they'd be spotted a mile away, and if there were a lot of land pirates, well... they always had their bells.
Half a mile down the road two figures trek towards the combined cities. Their well worn travellers clothes and simple baggage made dirty by the dust and cobbles of their travels. The first crests a hill and turns to the other, smiling as he is first to see the Palace floating above the cities. the other lagging behind on shorter legs. In their possession only the simple magics afforded by their elven blood and no armors to speak of, but also one masterfully crafted blade, sheathed and bound and unadorned, ready to be traded for Aid to their village. They can only Hope it will be incentive enough, and not too late.