The game starts in 10 days, with the character-generation session. Here’s my introduction to the world of The Elric Saga, in three parts. This is taken verbatim from my Dictionary of Elric (link to full document at the end of this post).
-J
Melniboné, The Dragon Isle, once the centre of an empire that spanned the known world, grows decadent and senile like a doddering old senator. Her emperor, mourning these last ten years, no longer leaves his apartments. Her people, the oldest mortal race, assured of their continuing dominance and wealth, occupy themselves with orgies and luxuries and casual cruelties while the world slips from their grasp. The emperor neglects the prescribed rituals and pacts, blaming the demon-gods for the death of his wife and child, and compounding The Dragon Isle’s woes.
The Young Kingdoms of Man openly defy imperial decrees. Without a strong emperor on the Ruby Throne, no Melnibonéan noble dares send his navy abroad for fear of weakening his position at home. A few recognize their empire’s decline and counsel remedies – a new and bloody age of conquest, a return to the old rituals – but the emperor does nothing. There is talk of regicide, a change of leadership. The emperor has no heir, and mutual mistrust prevents any consensus as to who should take the throne. The noble families of Melniboné are sharpening their knives. The emperor’s ban on bound demons is increasingly ignored.
* * *
Tvar, a rare pleasure to see you here, cousin. What brings you to one of our little parties?
Little? Domar, half of Melniboné’s nobility must be here! Well, my mother insisted I come. She says my mind is too much on weighty matters these days. She says I need to relax.
Then you have come to the right tower, cousin! My brother’s ship has just returned from the West, we have fresh dreamfruit, fresh liquor of the lotus… and fresh slave girls. May I offer you the use of a pair I was saving for myself? Twin girls, they’re just–
No thank-you, Domar. I’ll stick to Jharkorian wine tonight. I find it sharpens my mind even as it numbs my legs.
And where is your mother? I thought I saw her earlier.
No doubt already sharing terror-leaf visions with that friend of your father’s…
What ‘weighty matters’ occupy your thoughts, cousin? Did you not receive your officer’s commission?
That’s not it, Domar. T’is… the empire. I have learned much of late. Much that bodes ill. The situation troubles me.
Situation?
Oh don’t play dumb, Domar! The Young Kingdoms pay the tithe less and less these days. Some have their own trading fleets now, leaving less for our own ships to carry–
–and tax, and steal…
Which is our right! And now the barbarian attack on our harbour. Outrageous! And the Emperor does nothing!
Careful Tvar! Careful what you say of the emperor. Even here, cousin.
The world slips from our grasp while we throw parties, Domar. Our territories no longer fear us. The emperor neglects the rituals and angers the gods, which now forsake us. This does not bode well for Melniboné.
The Lords of Chaos do not forsake us–
It no longer seems they favour us!
So cousin, what is to be done about it?
What is to be done? This is hardly the place to speak of plans.
Who speaks of plans? Plans are dangerous. No, let us only speak of rumours, like old women. For example, I have heard a rumour that someone is seeking the Runeswords.
Who??
…It’s only a rumour, cousin.
On behalf of the emperor? No? Then it is someone who seeks the throne for himself!
There are many who seek the throne for themselves, these days. So the rumours say. I have also heard that someone has recently imported certain herbs which are vital to performing those neglected rituals.
Your father my uncle, it is said he is a powerful sorcerer.
Yes, another rumour, eh?
If I were emperor–
A-ah, cousin, let us plan carefully before starting rumours of our own.
But not here, eh cousin?
Indeed Tvar, not here.
* * *
My children don’t know Melnibonéans are real. They’re older now, growing up, and they’ve never even seen a dragon prince. It used to be, one o’ their golden ships would come into the harbour, you’d see those strange men (but they aren’t men), unnaturally tall, in their gold-chased armours and their flashy silks carrying their lord up Palace Street to visit our king, everybody scuttling to get out of their sight. Or you’d hear of a lone dragon prince staying at the inn, and that he’d paid in gold or he slew five men or he bedded six whores who can’t remember any of what he did to them, and then he turned to smoke by morning or some such thing. Not anymore, not for years now.
All I know is, them priests of Law taught us farming lore from the gods, my crops grew bigger and it was easier to pay the tithe. Then they taught us finer weaving, and now we make cloth to trade to the Lormyrians for better steel, the making of it they learned from the gods of Law as well. We didn’t pay the Melnibonéans their tithe at all last year, not us and not the Lormyrians either, but no dragon riders darkened the skies, no golden ships delivered an army of Melnibonéan soldiers to teach us a lesson. Maybe it’s true, those demon conjurers have forgotten about us. They say Filkhar is building ships like you’ve never seen, raising a navy to sack Melniboné itself. My sons battle each other every day with their wooden swords, say they can’t wait to kill a dragon prince and ride his dragon.
All I know is, we don’t figure on paying the tithe this year either.
Here is the latest version of my Dictionary of Elric (wrong-click to download PDF). I’ll post updates under the same file name so that this link is always to the most current version.
Leave a comment