The NecrocracyOnce, long ago, the Necrocracy was nearly entirely composed of vampires and vampire spawn. These original members have grown
old and powerful, and are powerful members in the modern Necrocracy. Nearly all bloodlords, those chosen Vampires who rule over the territories once held by the nations of old, come from the original group of vampires led by the Dracolich Makkai. There are few things forbidden to these legendary figures, and only one rule which they are forced to adhere to by the Dracolich: no open infighting. The territories of the Bloodlords ape the lines drawn on maps more than two centuries ago, and while deals and pacts have occasionally changed the landscape ever so slightly, the Bloodlords are forbidden from expanding their territories by force of war with one another. This has led to a race of expansion into the hinterlands to the south and east, which in turn has resulted in a patchwork of exclave territories technically 'claimed' by one bloodlord or another, and unable to be removed by direct force due to Makkai's pact.
These hinterlands are savage places, pushing up against territories once left to fierce beasts and tribes of the goblinoid races in the south, and cutting directly through ancient forests that the fae once forced the empires of the old world to abandon in the east. Those threats aside, the contrived plots and 'accidents' perpetrated by the competing bloodlords in order to further their own territories at the expense of their rivals adds another layer of danger to the outland territories. Yet the hinterlands are also one of the few places where an individual can be said to be free. Despite the interference from the bloodlords, it is a rare event indeed when a true Vampire, or even a Spawn, visits an outlying holding. The journey is often dangerous, and as long as the province returns a reasonable profit of resources and holds its borders fast, the bloodlords could care less about the day to day life of the citizenry.
Though not vampiric, those who actually govern the patchwork provinces are still considered to be Necrocrats, which is rather telling of the shift in the Necrocracy's structure that has occurred over the years. Two centuries of expansion and the integration of races and individuals too dangerous or valuable to subjugate completely have altered the Necrocracy's ranks considerably. Not all its members are vampires, and a good number aren't even dead yet. True Vampires no longer make up the majority in the Necrocracy, not even if one counts their spawn, though they still hold the positions of highest power. This change has led to a system of 'circles', which delineate the relative power of the Necrocrat members. Moving between circles is a delicate affair for non-vampires: Rising is a slow and arduous process, while falling is both simple and precipitous.
The first circle, the founders, are principally composed of the original true vampires that worked with the Dracolich Makkai. All Bloodlords are of the first circle, which does mean that one or two of the members of the newer vampire generations have climbed up despite their youth. Very, very few non-vampire creatures attain this rank, and all are beings of exceptional and unique power. To date, no living creature has ever ascended this high within the necrocracy. The first circle manages the nations.
The second circle is made up of the founding spawn, vampires made in the first or early second century, and a select few creatures strong enough to be considered equals. The first circle rules nations, or else mire themselves in their personal pursuits, but the second circle is often put in charge of the day to day of governing the necropoli, collecting the blood tax, and ensuring that society keeps moving smoothly. The second circle manages the cities.
The third circle is where things begin to get... complex. Older spawn occupy this layer in force, acting as city officials, plantation managers, military officers, et cetera. Vampires less than four decades dead are also often third circle denizens, tending small portions of the projects given to second circle vampires. Yet this is also the place where powerful individuals, living and dead, often find themselves. Grell Philosophers, Lycanthrope Lords, even particularly powerful (9th level+) mortal instruments who have proven their value as independent agents can become members of the third circle. The third circle manages people and is often in charge of implementing the details of the plans of the first and second circle.
The fourth circle is a very mixed bag of powerful creatures, vampires in social disgrace, lower power undead sycophants, and useful mortals that are either trusted or (more often) turned into necropolitans and set out to eternal tasks. It is this group that is often put in charge of individual farming villages or, in the case of the non-vampire members, govern one of the patchwork provinces on behalf of a bloodlord. The fourth circle manages the necessary work that is either too monotonous or dangerous to be handled by the third circle.
In sum, the Necrocracy itself isn't one monumental block of vampires and only vampires. Many creatures that would have been hunted and killed two centuries ago find that they fit in quite comfortably to the lower ranks of the necrocrat hierarchy- even if they aren't quite dead yet. Valued mortals may be transformed into undead, either as necropolitans awakened zombies/skeletons/ghouls.
For the creatures that feed upon human flesh, rather than blood, life in the necrocracy is still one of relative comfort. While the cost to eat a juice mortal in its prime is quite high (a mortal produces quite a lot of blood over its lifetime), there is now lack of bodies that have passed their time, and the necrocracy is often supportive of dealing with rebellious elements via eating them. No one wants to join a revolution where the last batch of 'heroes' got fed to Grell.
The NecropoliThe Necropoli are the cities of the old world that are now run by the Necrocracy. While someone of the old world might reasonably question the survivability of living in a city that is ruled by blood-drinking undead, the Necropoli are rather safe places to live if you're a functional part of the new order. The Necrocrats WANT mortals to live and reproduce- they depend on them for sustenance. They want the people to be well fed, for that enables more frequent and deeper feeding. They want their citizens to feel safe and as happy as possible, for happens sweetens the vintage as much as fear sours it.
The stratification of the Necropolis is strict and is based on the Blood Tax. The Blood Tax is essentially an amount of
constitution points living blood that the mortal denizens must pay to the Necrocracy. Now, since a once yearly tax collected in literal blood would kill far too many people (and thus damage future productivity), the Necrocracy modified the existing currency in order to be more representational of their values. Put simply, they collected the old currency, reminted it to make it distinctive, and made the coinage backed by blood. Thus any fine you cannot pay, any debt that you are in, can quite literally be extracted from you. Criminal punishment is defined in terms of how much blood you lose and has forced petty crime to the brink of nonexistence. Why risk being nearly exsanguinated for a bauble when there are institutions set up to allow you to voluntarily give up your blood for greater reward and greater safety?
Blood is life. Money is blood. Thus, Money is life.
Much like the necrocracy itself, one can separate necropolis denizens into four distinct layers. Every member of every layer except for the Petermen (the lowest) carries a small, slightly magical card of lacquered wood. Written on the wood is the vital information of the denizen: name, age, approximate mass, which bloodlord they are beholden to, their social standing, and, most importantly, the quality, flavor, and final value of their blood. The cards are taken in and re-issued once per year at a census-like event known as the Tasting. During the Tasting, each citizen is reinspected for changes in physical attributes and their blood sampled by one of a number of recognized gourmands among the vampire elite. Their blood is then revalued, and their card reissued until the next Tasting. The minor enchantments on the card prevent the information from being modified in a trivial or accidental manner, and are designed to make a focused attempt at modification very easy to detect upon inspection of the card.
These lacquer cards, known as vint cards for their role in determining the value of an individual's particular blood vintage, and thus the base value of their continued existence, are the hallmark of the mortal citizens of the necrocracy, and do much to reinforce the four prime castes of citizen.
At the bottom, you have the petermen, individuals who do not recognize the fact that they are property and refuse to submit to the taxation. At least, that's the theory. Anyone without a vint card is regarded as a peterman, subject to punishment as such. These are criminals beyond normal criminals. Any citizen who catches a peterman can bring them to a Tax House, where they will be bled and the equivalent blood price paid back to the captor. That being said, the punishing of petermen is often lenient for minors and for the week or two after the Tasting.
A fair step above the petermen you have the general population, the Kine, or Cattle. Kine is the term for people who do not actually produce anything but instead exist by selling their blood. Often unskilled, Cattle are kept in line by force only when necessary, and are primarily controlled by a substantial selection of entertainments and pleasures. Fear, after all, spoils the taste of the meat, and a substantial caste of vampires is dedicated to nothing but perfecting various experiences in order to concoct new flavors of blood. The average quality of life for one of the Cattle is likely substantially higher than it would have been 200 years ago. After all, when mortals were free, there was little intrinsic value to being alive. Now life is a commodity you can sell by degrees. For the Kine, life is one of revelry and experience. Every aspect of their life is tied to the value of their blood, their vint, determined by the annual Tasting. Rich life, full of pleasure, spiced with a little pain, enriched with hope, and made sharp with the poignancy from a touch of sorrow, is a very valuable commodity, and one that every kine struggles to produce.
Only slightly above the Kine are the Rathe. Rathe are mortals who provide services to the cattle in exchange for the money the cattle received for their blood. Rathe are thief-catchers, bar owners, blacksmiths, prostitutes, chefs, carpenters, rag and bone men- any individual who (primarily) earns money by selling a service to cattle (or other Rathe) instead of directly selling their own blood. Of course, a Rathe has a vint card and a measured value to their blood, but the distinction is that a Rathe plies his or her trade in order to make money, not gain experience in order to make his or her blood richer. Many Rathe were Kine in their younger years, mastering trades in order to supplement the dwindling income from their aging and devaluing blood.
Substantially above the Rathe are the Talents. Talents are Rathe who are of sufficient skill that, instead of selling their services to Cattle, sell them directly to members of the Necrocracy. Talents, again, can be anything. A Duskblade acting as a daylight guardian, a favored Harem girl/boy, a provisioner who somehow knows just the right way to obtain valuable objects, a storyteller that still manages to be entertaining to a centuries old audience, a smith capable of working dragonscale and adamantine, etc. Such individuals are often paid well with coin, largely to prevent other members of the Necrocracy from stealing their services at a better rate. While they possess vint cards, and gourmands may compete to see who has the pleasure of tasting the blood of a well-esteemed Talent, Talents rarely engage in the direct sale of their blood.
The FarmsWhile the Necropoli are designed to transform a mortal into a delicious meal, the mortals still require food of their own. Moreover, pleasurable and indulgent foods make for good memories and the kind of deliciously savory experiences that enrich the vint. Food for the common man is no longer a simple fare of bread, porridge, and vegetables to be occasionally supplemented with a little meat. Two centuries have done much to push daily cuisine into one of greater flavor and quality, one of spiced vegetables, complex soups, succulent meats, and delicate confections. Thus it is that the life of the country farmer, rather than disappearing under the rule of a race that has no direct need of their product, has become both vital and complex.
The kind of farms made two centuries ago, those centering around villages or the estates of former lords, still exist. For some, the routine has barely changed. While there is a far greater call for the exotic and the delicious, the demands of practicality require that the mortal Kine consume a staple of more mundane food. Hinterland farms, and farms further from the necropoli, are most likely to be the ones farming old-world crops, but 'barely changed' is not the same as 'unchanged'. Undead labor is employed liberally in order to aid farming, with rather profound results. Skeletal humanoids act as laborers that can work without tire, and undead horses function in much the same manner. Small skeletal animals, such as rats, squirrels, mice, and weasels are employed as constant insect and weed control units, constantly moving around and through crops, uprooting nascent weeds, and tearing apart deleterious insects. It's an effective system, if a slightly horrifying one. It does, however, require a necromancer skilled enough to impart relatively complex commands to the undead, and a farmer with the experience and skill to be able to adequately describe deleterious insects and weeds in enough detail for the necromancer to impart the difference between a weed and a crop or between a pollinating insect and a pest to his undead.
Farms that raise animals, such as cattle or pigs, are more traditional. No amount of acclimation is sufficient to completely calm a mundane animal around the presence of concentrated undeath, and so mortal farmers still carry out their trades much as they always have. It's a relatively free life, considering that the presence of an undead overseer typically has an even worse effect than skeletal ranch hands.
While the farms of old function much as they did, with the addition of manual labor, the increased demand for spices and exotics lead to the creation of the modern Necrocrat plantations. Typically kept relatively close to the necropolis, a plantation is a sprawling system of greenhouses and controlled environments. A single plantation is typically dedicated to one type of climate, such as mimicking a desert and growing exotic spices, or mimicking a saltwater ocean in order to raise fresh fish within walking distance of a landlocked necropolis. These advanced structures are often run by highly skilled farmers converted into necropolitans, thus ensuring their long life while not subjecting them to a vulnerability to sunlight. A single plantation might have a half dozen magic users of various stripes on staff in order to maintain the environments, at least twice that number of skilled artisans and engineers who watch over and tune the mechanical devices which keep the biomes stable, and a hundred or more undead workers with species specialized to individual tasks.
The Endless MinesIn order to maintain a growing and increasingly decadent necrocracy, the mortal population must expand in order to fulfill the need for blood. In order to maintain a growing mortal population, and to constantly increase the quality of blood produced by the growing population, the farming base which supports the mortals must be expanded and redesigned using an increasing reliance on tireless labor by mindless undead. In order to maintain an ever growing force of undead workers you need two things: a steady influx of new necromancers, and a steadily increasing supply of onyx- the material component of the reanimation spell.
The first problem is addressed in a variety of ways, some more horrible than others, but it's the latter that created the labyrinthine constructs known as the endless mines. After the natural onyx deposits on Ankos began to show signs of running dry, Necrocrat wizards began searching for a means of either divining enough new sources to last into the foreseeable future, or to develop a means of creating a suitable substitute.
In a way, they ended up with both. Initial attempts at creating onyx farms in magical laboratories were a failure. While high-quality Onyx could be used as a sort of self-propagating seed gem, the energy requirement to grow it seemed prohibitive- until a rather clever young vampire secured his rise to the first circle by attempting to grow the Onyx in a matrix of natural stone that could (but didn't) naturally contain onyx, rather than a medium of crushed rock or soil. The resulting Onyx clusters matured within a year and were of sufficient size to be moderately cost effective, but the geomancy grew more effective with increasing volumes of natural stone, which brings us to the Endless Mines.
The Endless Mines were once natural Onyx mines, tapped dry by continuous mining. With the advent of the geomancy needed to revitalize them and grow new onyx clusters within the surrounding rock, the mines have been reopened on a permanent basis. There are six Endless Mines, and each one was personally enchanted by the Dracolich Makkai- one of the few direct actions he's ever taken in the affairs of the necrocracy. The resulting enchantment continuously burrows into the rock, creating more onyx as hard labor expands the tunnels. The rituals required to keep the enchantment going are performed second or third circle necrocrats, and are undertaken once a year at the winter equinox. The materials required for the rituals are closely guarded secrets, but the ritualists always leave with a healthy complement of older Kine, and they never come back with them.
The Endless Mines are, somewhat ironically, manned primarily by undead. However, several of the mines are used as prisons for individuals who can't simply be drained as punishment and are too valuable to kill outright. Members of the Necrocracy that have fallen into utter disgrace can be sent into the mines as penance. Time is of little consequence to a vampire, but the humiliation of manual labor, combined with the maddening thirst of being trapped in the mines, is a harsh punishment indeed.
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Topic: Stillborn Gods | D&D 3.5 Forum Thread (Roll20, Almost Not Not Dead) (Read 10361 times)