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The gods have died, heaven has
fallen, and man has rebuilt his world on the wreckage. The Elves belong
to an ancient demon. The Dwarves can turn to smoke and walk on the wind.
Men wage wars of trade for the emeralds which fuel the most powerful sorceries,
and the Satyrs sail the high seas ... to stage panty-raids. Beneath it
all, the dungeons are the crushed remains of heaven itself. Welcome to
Uresia. Welcome to Blue Lamp Road.
Uresia: Grave of Heaven is an eccentric, swashbuckling fantasy world by S. John Ross (that's me) at Cumberland Games & Diversions. Blue Lamp Road is Uresia's home on the Web, and it's a portion of the Blue Room, my sprawling, happy mess of a homepage. Here's the nickel tour:
So, that's Blue Lamp Road. But why is Blue Lamp Road called "Blue Lamp Road?" Uresia's Blue Lamp Road is a stately old street in Shadow River, one of Uresia's most storied and dangerous port cities. It's an old street (it was part of the original hillside settlement) and nowadays it's a quiet neighborhood of aging manors and exclusive shops, all half-concealed by short, dark trees and lit by lamps on ancient iron posts, each just a couple of meters high. That's the lamp part, and the road part. Every winter, fat grey fish called nunessi school southward from somewhere under the pack ice north of Orgalt, reflecting moonlight so brightly the ocean seems to glow. It's pretty - if you're not among the sailors who believe the fish are cursed. Shadow River is a city of Temphis - a country accustomed to curses - so Temphis sailors cast their nets and harvest the beasts as they pass. Accursed or not, the fish are inedible. Not poisonous, but rich with the delicate taste of rotted meat and lighter fluid. They're also rich in oil - nearly double what can be rendered from most fish that size. In winter, quite a lot of Temphis streetlamps burn nunessi oil, and in most lamps it burns with a clean white flame, like whale-oil. In the fine old lamps on Blue Lamp Road (and nowhere else), nunessi oil burns a deep and haunting blue. In the dark of winter, when the snow piles on the trees and dusts the ornate ironwork, Blue Lamp Road earns its name. Thanks to long-forgotten magics lingering in the metalwork, the stately old street is bathed in color, making it look like a Boru spice-salesman is thinking of getting lucky. That's the blue part. Feel free to poke around, but don't disturb what
lurks in the shadows. Tacky light can hide horrors. |
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