Aggression: medium/high
“Their dance parties and social gatherings are a perfect storm of grandiosity and horror. Meanwhile everyone wants to be there, even if upon arrival they wouldn’t know, whether an honored guest they’ll be or yet another appetizer for the sparkling wine.”
Patrons: Lyumaarrii
Among the titanic city, drowned in perversion and vice, various circles have emerged, which outclassed everyone else in such regards. Sins became merits, betrayals – an object of example/admiration.
A rascal ready to sacrifice anything for power in this city – is a most frequent figure, however the representatives of the Glittering Court have turned this into a full-fledged art form. Even mutations among the venerable members form an overall fashion, whilst the personal guard is composed of metamorph-warriors: hulks overloaded with alchemy and enchantments. Each supper-party depicts a terrible nightmare of a gourmet: tables are served with the most twisted of the recipes; the participants aren’t averse to cannibalising their own kind or unsuccessful metamorphs (because “A fate of the weak – is to feed the strong”).
The jet set consists of 28 chancellors, out of whom the 7 Erst-Chancellor superintend the most reclusive of the private parties.
“Dantrag was quite pleased with the festive gathering. He has received an invitation as a “venerable guest” from his master, even though he seemed to work twice as less than the other subordinates. He has already enjoyed the view of a metamorph gladiator game. Moreover, the fact of his master’s contestant’s victory has brought a special kind of cheer. Following the terms of the game, the winning side gets the carcasses of the fallen. The master has personally invited Dantrag to share the taste of victory (in literal sense). Celebration went on, Dantrag became accustomed to the fact that his dreams of some weeks ago had become a reality. Socialising, rumours, affairs – he felt as in his own place.
‘Dear Venerable Guest! To the sorrow of everyone, the next delivery of delicacies is delayed for an unspecified time period! Please, do accept our regrets!’ – a voice has ranged through every glittering hallway.
‘What a pity ‘– thought Dantrag to himself.
‘What a pity’ – Dantrag heard the voice of his master, after which felt a firm grip upon his shoulder.
The rest of the evening the delighted shout and cunning gossip went on without the Dantrag’s participation. Yet in his presence.”
Aggression: medium
“Rest assured: in case of your victory we will drown you in riches. You are able to breathe gold, aren’t you?”
“And so far you did not get it. We do not foresee the future, we only draw the likelihood of our loss to bare minimum.”
Patrons: Adi-E’bbeth, Msafiri, Yeak
The owners of grand casinos, arenas and banks. World-scale tricksters. An alluring thrill of gambling is everything to them. With ease and a smile on their face they are going to provide an intoxicating victory, only to in a moment’s pass deprive you of everything, all while keeping the very same smile. Because with their amount of treasure may rival only their number of enslaved. Both living and dead.
They provide the services of organisation, conducting and betting record keeping for the gladiator games of the Glittering Court. In return they receive metamorph recruits into their own private security forces.
“The House of Smiles welcomes each contestant and every viewer to our annual Scavenger Race. You are all well aware of the rules but a few points I am obligated to repeat before the start. Your path will follow 3 zones:
1. The open arena №36. Everybody remembers the bloody infamy of this arena: around half of all the contestants usually find their peril here. Besides the treasure you are able to find here the starting equipment and supplies for the successful venture through the following zones.
2. An underground labyrinth, which morphs into the drain system of the next zone. Some viewers may start to worry about the difficulties of observations in such conditions, but worry not! The place is riddled with special surveillance enchantments and our reporters: not a single deed shall be left unnoticed.
3. The final zone shall be a local branch of our bank. As per rules, the participants have the right to hack into any stash and sweep it if able, all while avoiding our security. Near the edges of the zone they are able to exit the game’s territory with the riches they have acquired along the way. Do note, however, that once left, nobody is allowed to return to the game.
Every body remaining on the territory of the game after 104 hours since the start, be alive, severely wounded etc, are to be booked as a private property of the House of Smiles. Can the contestants subdue the gnawing desire of a bigger cut, or do they come to their senses just in time to end their round? Soon we shall know.
Hold it!…I have just been informed that due to a series of unfortunate events rare and highly dangerous samples of warbeasts have fled our pens! But, dear viewers, fear not, for we are not going to cancel the Scavenger Race! And there is good news for the contestants as well – you just got yet another option of enrichment: for every beaten creature we will double your prize! As for capturing alive, we will triple…although…ah, no need to be petty; we will quadruple your prize!
So, I shall not waste your time any longer!
I offer every contestant to prepare themselves!
On your mark…”
Aggression: high
“Your Order: take the enemy by storm, crush their defence, tear their flesh, trample their bones, take their valuables!
Your enemy: anyone, who does not obey the order.”
Patrons: Martrig, Dalakan, Anzianu
A phenomena just as old as the world itself. While having its share of rise and fall, everyone has come to terms with its existence, perceiving it as if another kind of natural disaster. March Unbroken – is a countless army, which wishes to enlist the bigger part of the world’s population, and the rest – to destroy. It is impossible to get rid of it entirely. Its retreats are but a temporary switch to a more advantageous target. The ranks may change, warlords – substitute one after another, but the March always goes on.
“A1: My Lord, our defence may not withstand another month of siege.
M: Nonsense, our lands were always capable of upholding our own territory.
A1: The stockpiles are getting emptied, whilst the supply lines have been cut off for a long time.
M: Not for long, with the next counter assault we are going to retrieve them back.
A2: Our garrison’s morale is falling, My Lord.
M: Haven’t our brave warriors been repelling the enemy all while taking little casualties?
A2: How to put it for you – if to decapitate them, their bodies continue to walk; losing legs – they continue to crawl onwards. Even our undead squads are incapable of this, but they…
M: So be it that they take a few extra hits, that is not a reason to forsake the history of My renowned House!
H: My Lord! My Lord! Emergent notice: the northern neighbour’s troops are approaching!
M: About time those slow-witted have recalled the old agreements and have dispatched us reinforcements, and now…
H: No, My Lord! Those troops tread under the banner of March Unbroken!”
Aggression: high
“In the thickets, where the shine of civilisation does not reach, rules the shriek of the Wild Call.”
On the background of sprawling urbanisation always sprout rebels, who denounce the conventional norms of society. They feel allogeneic and disgusted towards perpetually lying voices and venture off to the places, where the harsh nature has awakened in order to reclaim its own dominion. This strive to resemble one’s own primaeval ancestors has been named the Wild Call. Here nobody is hiding behind the masks of deceit, here things immediately escalate to face bashing. And though they may seem as chaotic mess of ragtag and bobtail, they are united by a common hatred to the cunning softies from the marble bedchambers.
Some historians suppose that the Savages are a broken off ranks of the March Unbroken, which have lost the order and organisation present in the March. Others claim that they are the firstborn population of the Endless Night, unchanged with the passage of time.
Every representative, named the Call’s Fang, possesses individual skills of survival. Each one masterfully survives in the outbacks, able to craft tools of trade and self-defence out of personally acquired materials, while also adapting elements of found or taken armour. Quite a number has been witnessed having skills of metallurgy.
The flimsy hierarchy of Putrid Savages holds on to the Chief, around whom the Fangs start prowling around. Chief incites mass relocations, settlements and raids. In the Chief’s close retinue stand various shamans, witches and healers, who act as advisors, deputies and harbingers (in inter tribe communication or rare occasions of contacts with the rest of the world).
“The captured chief was taken from the beginning to the very end of the longest street of the city. This was not an easy task: a hard work of eleven men, and just as many were ready to quickly substitute them. All could hear the chief’s roar throughout the whole procession. Nobody could have ever previously observed her for so long, so close and yet remain alive. The inhabitants were glad, because the chief’s gang for a long time had been terrorising these and the nearby lands. They desired to exult, but the primal quiver was shackling anyone who witnessed the chief’s presence. At the end of the street lied a plaza where the execution was planned.
The public crier began reading out the accusations and sentence, but stopped it not reaching even the third of the script: it was impossible to outshout the chief. It was also impossible to bow her down, the sentence had to be carried out on a standing target. Right before the moment of decapitation she shrieked a phrase in the common language: “HATRED! HATRED IS ALIVE!!!”. The head did not go silent while falling down. When the cries have finally subsided, the inhabitants could finally exhale in peace. Back then they were ignorant of the fact that at the same time out of the marshes a future new chief had began own ascent.
The old legend states that the echo of the executed chief’s final words can still be heard on the streets of that very city.”
Aggression: medium
“Nothing will be wasted, everything has a purpose.”
Insane druids and scientists are trying to create a wasteless ecosystem. Mushrooms and plants grow everywhere, the organisms tend and feed on them. After death the corpses are recycled into fertilisers and reagents, but firstly they will work in the gardens as undead.
“The natural processes are chaotic. They inefficient. We were granted a crude product – we can reach the ideal. Nature requires supervision.”
Cult of the God X: Choose a god from the Endless Night Pantheon and form a devoted, and maybe a little deranged cult around it. Bring power to your deity – perhaps it will answer your prayers and rituals…
Criminal Syndicate: In the shadows it’s easy to run smuggling rings, black markets, and extortion rackets. In a world where law is just another tool of the strong, your syndicate decides who thrives and who vanishes.
Club of Killers, Spies, Assassins: Living in Endless Night lets many master the art of death and deception. Whether for coin, cause, or sheer pleasure, your hand shapes history from the darkness. Assassinations, espionage – nothing is forbidden if you leave no trace.