Glorantha is a world ruled by magic. It’s not just part of the world, but the way the world works. The fundamental forces of Glorantha are controlled by powerful gods. Everyone in every culture interacts with magic on a daily basis. Many of the things we take for granted in the real world do not exist in Glorantha, or exist in radically different ways. So these are some of the major differences between our world and Glorantha:
The Mountain World was not always a mountain, although no one now remembers a time when this was not the case.
At its tip is the sacred land of Saranai - city of the gods.
Beneath it are the Temple Lands, as close as pilgrims are allowed by the guarding spirits of the Mountain World to their gods.
The country of Nelenai takes up many miles and is home to artisans and tomb robbers who delve shallow into the mountain’s heart to reap the glories of ancient cultures whose bones lay trapped beneath the Mountain World.
Bref and Stek are two countries locked in almost perpetual conflict over who owns the Giant’s Heart which beats at the center of Bref and bestows upon them wealth and knowledge (which the Stek desperately desire).
The Sleplanders are master builders who live in cathedrals which cling precariously to the steep peripheries of the Mountain World. It is thought they made a pact with the Mountain World to weather the predations of Lowland monsters.
The Lowlands are where all monsters live. Dwarves live here, trying to dig into the Mountain World and find their lost gods and forgotten glories. Elves live here, too. They stalk the endless forests at the base of the Mountain World, desperate to one day walk on Saranai again, as did their ancestors.
Cardinal Loep slumped heavily in the plastic folding chair, the seat creaking beneath his considerable bulk. An empty glass somehow appeared in his hand, though it had not yet been offered, and I nodded to one of the servants to fetch some wine. Anything to lubricate the awkward conversation I was about to endure with the man I strongly suspected had murdered my father and sent my younger sister to a far-off convent.
‘A lovely day.’ Loep suggested, casting his gaze across the gardens. ‘Very serene.’
‘We like to keep a little slice of home with us, my lordship.’ I said. Truly, the gardens had been father’s passion, but it would have sullied his memory to halt their upkeep and so it would continue in perpetuity most likely. I understood little of plants and had been home to Dirt only twice in my life. The greenery made me nervous, a reminder that mankind’s bitter seeds did not belong on this world or any other.
‘The pines are especially striking.’ He said, accepting my servant’s formal offer of wine to fill his glass. He began drinking immediately. ‘Keep it coming. I have always held a fondness for red wine.’
So they said, I wanted to blurt out, but instead I inclined my head in a non-committal nod.
‘I’m afraid young Josep that my visit today is no mere pleasantry.’ He said, his voice low and conspiratorial. ‘The gnashnabs at the Sancta have been pestering me for weeks to take the next shuttle and meet with you, and I have finally succumbed to their demands. One cannot keep the wolves at bay forever, you know.’
‘Of course, my lordship.’ I replied, giving what I hoped was a pleasant, neutral smile. ‘And how may the House of al-Yassim serve the Sancta?’
‘You have no doubt heard of the troubles on Dirt and the inner colonies?’ He asked casually, but I knew he was testing me.
‘Some small rebellions and petty heresies is what my Seers have deduced.’ I said. ‘Nothing the Guard cannot handle, or the Sancta Blessed. But we are far from the inner worlds and news takes many months to settle here.’
‘Just so.’ Loep said. ‘Just so. Rebellious elements and free-thinkers. Criminals and fools.’
‘And what has that to do with al-Yassim, my lordship?’ I asked. ‘We have provided the usual tithe of troops to Dirt and an extra shipment of worshipers for the Sancta. Above and beyond our sacred duties.’
‘Your record is beyond reproach, young Josep.’ Loep said, chins waggling comically as he shook his head. ‘But lest we forget your late father’s forays into the dark underbelly of system politics which led to his tragic demise.’
‘Tragic it may have been, my lordship Cardinal Loep, but God-sent.’ I said, hoping I put enough venom into my voice. ‘My father was a fool and a heretic and he would have dragged our whole family down with him had you not interfered. And I sing your praises each day, Cardinal. Each day.’
‘Be that as it may, young Josep, the name of the House of al-Yassim has been heard once more upon the lips of a traitor. Unrelated, of course. Possibly a friend of your father’s from before. But propriety and political pressures have led me to visit and so here I am to reassure your detractors in government that you are a pious young man of good manners.’
‘I thank you for keeping my family’s fortunes so close to your heart.’ I said. ‘You humble me and mine.’
‘And have you heard from your sister of late?’
‘We do not speak.’ I said, grinding my teeth in frustration. He was probing close to home. ‘It is better for her to spend her years contemplating her failures than fill her head with unwise hopes.’
‘A sagacious decision.’ Cardinal Loep said, guzzling more wine. ‘Shall we take a stroll by your pond?’
‘Of course, my lordship.’
‘Have you still got those birds in it? The loud ones?’
‘Ducks, Cardinal?’
‘Yes. Just so.’ He said. ‘Ducks. Isn’t God a jester at times, to gift us with such sights?’
I watched him struggle from the folding chair and begin waddling toward my house’s single yet impressive lake.
‘Indeed.’ I replied, following him, hands balled into fists. ‘As you say.’
This blog is not dead. Merely slumbering.
It’s going to wake up soon.
‘And you say the people of the valley spoke a variant of the Flerenti dialect? Fascinating. Just fascinating. And you are sure no one else knows of this? Oh, why do I ask? No reason, my friend. No reason.’
Ferantin-ssi, Truth Hunter Agent before strangling a merchant
Name: Lassamu-ssa
Habitat: Everywhere
Lifespan: 40 - 80 years
Appearance: The Lassamu-ssa possess the appearance of enormous jellyfish. Their heads are large and clear, their brains and organs floating in a gelatinous prison. They have no discernible eyes or mouths and they never seem to need to eat or ingest water. When they speak it is with echoing, forlorn voices which seem to come from all directions at once.
Lives: The
Lassamu-ssa are a widespread people known for their fanatical interest in the histories of the world. Most are scholars in what remains of the organised communities of the Mighty Dry. They are jealous hoarders of knowledge and will often use underhanded means to secure both data and artifacts from the jeweled lost ages of the past. It is said that more knowledge has been lost to the vaults of the
Lassamu-ssa than has been discovered in the modern age.
The Lassamu-ssa are a solitary people who dislike crowds and most of all do not look fondly upon spending time with their own kind who are likely to desire their secrets. Many powers in the world have attempted to wrest knowledge from the clutches of the Lassamu-ssa, but most choose the rite of Ascension to giving up their secrets. During Ascension a Lassamu-ssa shrinks in size over the course of several hours until it disappears from the world completely. Although the Lassamu-ssa believe the rite takes them to the Everdrive where their knowledge is stored until the very last of their kind ascends and forms one perfect being, the act is effectively suicide for the physical world.
Some whisper of the Truth Hunters, an insidious Lassamu-ssa sect which not only craves and gathers knowledge, but also destroys and erases through intricate magical rituals other sources of this knowledge. Magic and assassination are not above these secretive Lassamu-ssa.
‘It has been decreed by higher powers than I that each of your bones be broken in three places. This is not cruelty, sir. It is destiny.’
Name: Kuzdlaki
Habitat: The Screaming Valley
Lifespan: 50 - 120 years
Appearance: The Kuzdlaki are small humanoids, at most 3ft tall. They are white of skin and black of eye. Their bodies are covered in thick, worm-like hairs which they also use to feed (rolling around in Feastpiles). They use telepathy for communication, though they are incapable of reading minds. They have three jet-black, unblinking eyes upon their spherical heads. The nails of their hands and feet are sharp spirals.
Lives: The Kuzdlaki are a dark-souled folk who live and die according to a perpetually updating tome of prophecy. It tells them who will live and who will die, which of them will pair and which of them will separate. It sometimes contains details of individual Kuzdlaki speech patterns or personality quirks, and the Kuzdlaki do their very best to follow these notations (whether or not they have predilections toward the behaviours or not). Often, the book will say that a Kuzdlaki individual will die, but they have not had the good grace to do so. When this occurs, the Kuzdlaki is expected to attend to their own demise. If they refuse, the community obliges.
Once, the Kuzdlaki tome of prophecy told them to be explorers of the world, to be cosmopolitan and outgoing. But it has since changed its mind and commanded all Kuzdlaki to remain in the Screaming Valley among the shattered bones of the creatures who once called it home.
Any Kuzdlaki now in the world are either deviants or have simply not heard the new commands of the tome.