#Naabeth

[janspar]

The Sacred Sands of Naabeth

Extract from Fertas's Travels on the Narcine Sea

Lying in a sheltered harbour on the southern shores of the Narcinia, is Naabeth, a city of some two hundred thousand souls. This city is a major centre of trade and travel, but it is known primarily not for its produce, nor its piety, nor its palaces, but for yet another reason. Naabeth has elevated the art of combat to its highest form.

Where other cities have fighting-pits, theatres dedicated to mutilation and bloodletting, Naabeth's Sacred Sands ensure death is rare for gladiators, and allow fighters to accumulate wisdom and experience over many years in the arena. Unlike most other lands, the gladiators of Naabeth are not enslaved. It is legally required that any who fight in Naabeth's arenas must be free, and graduation from one of the city’s gladiatorial academies grants citizenship of the city to the student. It is not uncommon for enslaved fighters, victorious in other cities, to escape to Naabeth, seek a sponsor for their manumission, and fight to a life as a free citizen.

Naabeth is ruled by an Assembly of diverse voices – holders of traditional offices both ceremonial and practical, the heads of aristocratic families, and elected representatives of the free people of the various districts of the city. The city holds dominion over a large area of lesser cities, villages, and several nomadic bands, none of whom have direct voices on the Assembly, but are nonetheless considered to have some influence through those of their kin resident in the city's districts.

Unique to Naabethi gladiatorial culture are the Sacred Sands – blessed earth scattered upon the field of combat and imbued with life-preserving magic. Only the most grievous of blows will truly fell a combatant in a Naabethi bout, though particularly bitter opponents may agree to fight without this facility and chance the death of their rival – or themselves. The most famed gladiators fight in great arenas, of which there are three in Naabeth. The premier of these is on the grounds of an ancient temple, the cult of which is long forgotten, but it is here that the earth for the Sacred Sands must be gathered, and from here that they draw their power. This arena, known to Naabethi as the Temple of the Sands, is where the final combat in the annual Games takes place. While in other cities, a single style of combat may be favoured – wrestling, or spear fighting, or duelling with daggers and whips – in Naabeth, combatants of all disciplines can be found in the ring.

The gladiators are figures of public fame and renown among the Naabethi, often far more than their own politicians and elders. Indeed, the politicians and the gladiators may often form alliances – political factions seek the support of popular athletes and stables of successful gladiators in exchange for sponsorship. The current Grand Champion however, Gsuta, is known for her relative indifference to politics.

Visitors to Naabeth are advised to attend a gladiatorial bout, if not at the Temple of the Sands or the other two great theatres, then the lesser combats that may take place in marketplaces, temple yards, or other diverse locations. Some fans of blood sports in other cities are known to express that the reduced chance of death in Naabeth's arenas makes for a less skillful bout or less exciting spectacle. It is wise to keep such opinions unexpressed among the Naabethi.

Behind the Scenes

Naabeth is a city I created for an idea I had for an RPG campaign. It's currently setting-neutral, and could be adapted for any world or used in any game system.

My idea was to run a campaign where the players play as gladiators – but rather than slaves, as is typical in most such stories, the PCs would be professional athletes. As well as fighting in the arena, they would have to seek sponsorship, manage their careers, and probably get involved in intrigue. I was taking inspiration from the history of gladiators in the Roman world, from real-life combat sports and, more importantly, films and stories based on boxing, wrestling, or MMA.

I've outlined some details and facts about Naabeth below.

Naabeth

Population: ~200,000 people (primarily human, small numbers of other races)

Government: Assembly, led by Cyl Tsem.

The Assembly is made up of sixteen Speakers (publicly elected from each of the city's districts, representing the common people), twelve Houses (appointed representatives of the city's noble families, usually the head of the house or the heir), and twenty Officers (holders of titles and offices, including the High Priest of the Sun Temple, the commander of the Army, and the heads of trade groups).

There are three main political factions in the city.

The Wheel Party are seen to represent the common people, particularly the merchant classes and tradesmen. Their most radical members want to grant positions in the Assembly to the other towns and bands under Naabethi dominion.

The Tower Party are the party of aristocratic power and tradition. They finance large works to improve the lives of citizens, sponsor many of the largest games, and encourage naval trade.

The Cup party are the faction of labourers, and are supported by many of the ethnic factions in Naabeth. They seek to ensure work for the people of Naabeth and are opposed to punitive taxes.

The city government is not limited to these forty-eight people. The individual districts may have their own small councils, Assembly members have their staff, and there is a large bureaucracy within the Assembly Halls that carries out the day-to-day running of the city.

There is no official religion in Naabeth. Though most citizens nominally venerate the Sun, many religious enthusiasms as well as periods of relative apathy have overtaken the city. Most regional religions have a presence here.

Characters

The current Leader of the Assembly, Cyl Tsem, was a successful general in Naabeth's army before being elected as Speaker for the East Gate district. He represents the Tower Party.

Gsuta came to Naabeth at a young age to become a gladiator. She has reigned as the Grand Champion for several years now, and though she no longer competes regularly she has yet to be defeated in the annual Games.

Albec is the Speaker of the East Market district, allied to the Wheel party. He was narrowly elected after the death of the previous speaker, a staunch Tower man. His next election is coming in the next year and he is not certain to win.

Baniar represents House Temon in the Assembly. She took over from her uncle as he grew old and focused more on his own affairs of House and business, and Baniar is expected to assume these responsibilities to on his death. She's a member of the Tower faction but allied closely with many members of the Cups.

Tred Lam runs the most famous gladiatorial school in Naabeth. Near the city's docks and its western gate, it's often the first school newcomers to the city encounter. Lam charges a high price for enrollment, but is known to sponsor promising prospects if they impress him.

Locations

The Temple of the Sands is an ancient temple, dating to before the city of Naabeth was founded, and outside the original limits of the city. The blessed energies here are what give the Sacred Sands their life-preserving power. It's located in the north east of the city.

The High Field is located in the north of the city, overlooking much of Naabeth. It alone of all the Great Arenas stages fights between gladiators and wild beasts, and the owners are always on the lookout for new exotic creatures to use.

The Speaker' Arena is located in the south west of the city, It was built a century ago, after a campaign of public finance led by Speakers who would go on to be the basis of the modern Tower faction.

The East Market holds regular combats, some of the most popular lesser bouts in the city.

The Assembly Hall is on a square in the south of the city, not far from the docks. Several temples and aristocratic villas can be found in the neighbourhood.

Rumours and Hooks

Gossip in the west end of the city is saying that a great fighter, a champion among the nomads and the outlying forts, is preparing to make a move to the city and start a career in earnest.

A noble family is holding a feast tomorrow night, and their scheduled entertainment got badly injured.

A new cult recently arrived in the city is opposed to blood sports and is forbidding its members to attend the fights.

A Speaker and an army officer somewhere in the Old districts got in a brawl over the outcome of a fight. Some are saying the Speaker had gambling debts, some are saying the match was fixed.

Strong Turu offered Dergan a fight on favourable terms, but Dergan's stable wouldn't accept it. No one knows why, but Dergan hasn't fought in months now.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2020 #14: Part

“Sometimes I forget you are not the child I once knew. Make me proud.”

Gods, it hurt to see her again. To know she was still somehow herself after all.

And that she would be leaving him regardless.

She could save a world, and he would never dream of stopping her. He could never say the words, not aloud, but she knew his heart better than any other and could say them for him.

“Your kindness, your compassion, your love...These are your gifts to me, and our gifts to them, forming a bond which transcends time and space.”

The Thanalan sun beat down on the group of Scions, still reeling from what they had experienced, but he felt heavy. Weighted to the earth while she soared.

He volunteered to see to the Amalj’aa’s crystals. Alphinaud began to protest but this was something he had to do, to act and work and not punch Urianger in the jaw and not break down in front of his comrades and just do something.

The Amalj’aa had been left in more disarray than he had dared hope, and retrieving the remaining crystal stores was not a difficult task.

He somehow found himself before the mark of Azeyma, overlooking the Burning Wall.

His fist slammed into the stone, knuckles splitting under his glove, not stinging nearly as much as it ought to. He dropped to his knees, wondering how he could feel so numb and yet ready to burst from too much emotion all at once.

He still did not allow himself to break; he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He would forgive Urianger--gods knew the man was probably beating himself up enough. And he would move on with his life, as she had asked.

He could never deny her anything.

“Tell me, tell me! what I must do to bring you back!?”

He begged and pleaded under the sweltering Eternal Light looming over Naabeth Areng, where she had stopped the Flood from fully consuming the world.

Her voice, sad yet firm, coming from the meek child he had drug out of Eulmore, told him what she wanted.

She had always had so much resolve. Enough to make him feel weak-willed when next to her.

“What...what happened?” The girl blinked her sapphire eyes, looking crumpled in on herself in her uncertainty and inexperience, compared to the way her elder had stood in the same body.

She had asked him to look after this girl. To teach her, to protect her, as he had done before so long ago.

He didn’t want this responsibility, didn’t want to influence such an important choice in so sweet, so fragile a child.

But he could never deny her anything.

Where was she?!

His chest constricted, caging his loudly beating heart as he tore through the woods, following the trail she had left.

He came across a scene more trampled than one adolescent girl could make by herself and let out a string of go-to curses learned in his own childhood on the docks. Another half malm of more careful--barely--tracking later, and his worst fears were confirmed:

Eulmore had her.

Three years he had kept her safe, and now, now when the night sky finally graced Lakeland and what that had to mean, now they had her.

If they took her back to the city, he would never see her again.

He pushed down the panic, the guilt of having failed once more.

He didn’t know why she had left, though he could guess, looking up and feeling the cool night wind. Gods, it had been so long; five years under unending Light, and he had almost forgotten the stars.

It wasn’t entirely surprising how the constellations were the same.

The tower gleamed, a dagger of blue crystal piercing the dark sky. He had to speak with the Exarch, learn the current plan.

Three years and she had decided now she would have a moment of rebellion. He ran a hand down his face. All she had to do was ask, didn’t she know that by now?

It wasn’t as if he could truly deny her anything.

“I’ll not have you waste that newfound resolve on me,” he insisted. “I leave her in your care.”

It was the hardest thing he had ever said. But he would not let Ran’jit take her. Not again.

Banter and quips soon gave way to snarls and grunts as they fought for the freedom of the child they loved. In the end, he counted himself victorious.

Nevermind he was on his back, the packed dirt shuffled and blowing around him after the battle, the Light burning above.

No matter. She was safe, and making her choice.

He prayed she made the right one.

He remembered his girl, years ago and a world away. He had not done his best, not back then as a callow youth, but she had loved him anyway.

He hoped he hadn’t disappointed her too badly these last few years, failing again up to the last minute. He was foolish, in so many ways.

He covered his eyes with his arm, wishing for darkness. He said his goodbye, though the wind and his broken breath stole the sound of the words he had never managed to say before.

Yet he somehow felt she heard. She knew.

She had always known him better than he knew himself. She had always known what she was asking of him. She had trusted he would figure it out, when all was said and done.

And as usual, he had done what she asked--he just wished he’d done as his friends had urged, had taken the many opportunities to tell the child she had given him to love.

Had he another chance, he wouldn’t deny her anything.

They stood together again in the ruins of Naabeth Areng. The sky was a clear blue, the Floodwall glimmering translucent in the desert sun. It was bloody hot, but he felt cold in the shadow of the palace ruins.

He couldn’t stay.

Part of him wanted to return to the Source and his body, of course. But a large part of him wanted to stay in this healing little world, with these people--with her. His girl.

She set the flowers down and straightened, stepping back, hands clasped. “There,” she said. She raised a hand in prayer, bowing her head. “Thank you, for everything. We’ll carry on from here, and make you proud.”

He stood next to her, smiling, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. He would not, could not break down. Not here; he had to be strong just a little longer, for her sake.

But when she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes and her smile was sad. He reached his hand out, as he so often did, but she was faster for once.

He blinked when she embraced him, his arms automatically hugging her in return, stroking her hair. “I know it’s wrong,” she said, hiccuping a little. “But part of me wishes you could stay. Or that I could go with you. Or--just—”

“I know,” he said quietly. “Part of me wishes the same.” He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the warmth of the sun. “Your kindness, your compassion, your love...These are your gifts to me, and our gifts to them, forming a bond which transcends time and space.”

“Wh-what?” She choked.

He laughed a little, looking down to her again. “Something she said to me, once. It holds especially true now.” He stroked his girl’s hair. “I’m supposed to be the bard, but those are the only words that seem right to say.”

She smiled, understanding. She stepped away, and he felt a little emptier. She looked at the Floodwall, then back to him, as if she were about to say something.

He realized that if she did ask him to stay, despite all reason--he would.

The moment passed, and she wiped her face and squared her slim shoulders. “We should head back; Magnus and the others will wonder what we’ve done with their trolley. Again.”

They both laughed at that, and he followed her, ready to head to where they had left the talos.

A wind kicked up behind them, scattering the petals into the air, and he was reminded of another time the flowers had fallen. When a girl had lost her father, because of him.

“...Do you want me to stay?” He asked suddenly, before they descended the stairs off the dais. His heart was hammering.

She took a long moment to respond. His girl took a deep breath, before turning to him, eyes watery but determined.

“I want,” she swallowed. “You, and everyone, to be safe and alive,” she said, managing a firmness to her tone. He couldn’t help but almost smile; he knew, perhaps better than she did, how stubborn, how determined, she could truly be.  “Anything else...can maybe be figured out later.”

He nodded after a moment. “As you wish,” he replied, pride and heartbreak warring in his chest.

She was right, and he knew that. It wasn’t as if his colleagues wouldn’t seek some means of return, but until then they had to make the smart choice. He simply wasn’t able to make it himself, and so even knowing what she would say he had left it to her.

After all, he could never deny her anything.