Almanac of the Heartland Rider

The Almanac of the Heartland Rider is the main publication that covers the goings on of Sangfielle. It started as an almanac but needed to be published so frequently that it became more of a newspaper.

The (as yet unnamed) editor of the Almanac is the narrator of Sangfielle, as he is chronicling the adventures of the Blackwick Group.

Below is a collection of all writing in The Almanac of the Heartland Rider (as of Sangfielle 56: Six Travelers: Pickman), other than episode introductions.

SPOILER WARNING! This page contains information that is by its nature a spoiler. If you do not wish to know the secrets of the heartland, please turn back.

Peoples

Caprak (cap-ROK): The goat folks of the northlands, where they put up with dust, ash, snow, and the unilateral "justice" of the Pale Magistratum. The goat folks of the north put up with a lot. Dust, ash, snow. Rocky mountains with very little arable soil. They made it work, but it was the fear of all the ways it might fail that led to the Magistratum.
Carpana (car - pahn - a): Back before Aldomina strode across Sangfielle, the Carpana were one of the many peoples who lived here. They’re little folks, three to four feet tall or so. A little like capybara, I suppose. They used to make their homes in the trees, well, not the trees per se, but in villages built on and between the branches of the lake-side forests across the heartland. Seemed like it was a good life. Lots of fruit, maybe some fish from the lakes? Little communities of 30 or 40. Anyway, then Aldomina came in, pushed them and so many others to the most barren parts of the mountains. After the panic, some moved back to their homes, but others had found new ways to live. That’s how it goes.
Devils: Once, they were contained by (and made to administer) some vast network of hells. But they fought their way out, took over Aldomina, and nurtured a fledgling empire into an expansive one. It’s hard to speak to devils writ large, since the only devils I’ve ever met are those from Aldomina, and maybe those still in hell are different. But of those I’ve met, I’ve happened across two distinct varieties. The first are those who come from the Throne of Dominion itself, and they’re haughty bastards always searching for a new way to demean you. The second are those who, when the panic hit, got left behind. What must it be like, I wonder, when your "grand civilization" reveals that you’re no different than the rest of the muck it left to die? It ain’t as bad as what we went through, that’s for sure, but still, you meet the devils (and their descendents) that call the heartland home, and you can tell they carry that betrayal on them like a mark.
Drakkan (drah-KAHN): They say we descended from the legendary dragons from some more wondrous age, but I don’t know that I buy it. I’ve always thought we look like seahorses. Skin pulled across spiny, exo-skeletal armor. Bright colors. Good looking. Many of us spent generations enslaved by Aldomina, who put us to work across Sangfielle, only to be left to its devices when the panic set in. Thankfully, in the southwest, we’ve taken a home for ourselves, and one day, once the almanac is complete, I hope to make it back there.
Heritrixes (hare-uh-trixes): Heritrixes are immaterial beings, sometimes confused for ghosts, demons, or other sorts of supernatural spirits, who enter into contracts with physical hosts. In exchange for their expertise and magical power, Heritrixes are allowed to take control of the host’s body for an agreed upon period of time, giving them a way to experience the material world. I’d say that I wouldn’t sign an agreement like that, but who’s to know?
Human: A smooth-skinned, hornless type of person, mostly found in the Heartland and in the Unschola Republica these days. Unremarkable. "Except in variety," you’ll often hear a human say, revealing only that they’re more prideful than wise.
Ojantani: Bigness doesn’t always mean boisterousness. The Ojantani, who share traits with buffalo and water oxen the way I do with the colorful seahorses of the Kay’van seas, are as often melancholic or timorous as they are the loud, stereotypical minotaur sort. If there is a cultural trait among the Ojantani I’ve been fortunate enough to ride with, it’s that they are always interested in how things fit together, and in whether or not something (or someone) has found its proper place — met with dignity and value — in this world.
Gandy Dancers: The strange little creatures that maintain the trains.
The Lake Skeletons: What is there to know, as of yet. Rivalrous. Boisterous. See right through ’em.
The Tooth Trolls: Every year, right around harvest time, the trolls climb up out from the lake and do their gardening by the shoreline. Every few years, some strapping and brash showoff goes "to show them who really owns this land." Only thing is, they find out they had the answer wrong. Don’t pay ’em no mind, and you’ll be fine.

Places

States/Regions

ALDOMINA (al-doh-mee-nah): What once stood as the name of the whole continent is now only the name of the Confederation that runs across the eastern half of the territory surrounding the Sangfielle, currently constituted by three sub-states called Cantons.
The First Canton, aka the Throne of Dominion: Once a fledgling human empire but nearly 1900 years ago, a minor duke of some great hell led an effort to take it over. Who can blame them, the hells seem like a bad place to be. So, they took this once human empire over through a combination of bargaining, subterfuge, and force. And once they did it, and pushed what was an already spreading empire even further in that direction.
The Second Canton, aka The Pale Magistratum (ma-juh-strah-tuhm): If Aldomina has a superego, it is the Pale Magistratum. Though its populace now lives in dense cities, the first settlers of the ash-and-snow covered Second Canton led hardscrabble lives. In order to enforce rationing and harshly punish anyone who directly or indirectly harmed a member of a settlement, the culture ordered itself around its Magistrates — holy marshals given weapons blessed by Fulmina, goddess of immediate justice, and the right to use that power as they see fit. Today, these Magistrates exist in a complex hierarchy, but even the lowest ranking members of the order are fearsome arbiters of what they perceive as justice. The Second Canton has ordered itself.
Unschola Republica, formerly the Third Canton (oon-skoh-la): For a millenia, the alchemists, mage-practitioners, and cryptotheological scholars of the Third Canton complained in secret about the leash kept on them by Aldomina’s distant leaders. They’ve since slipped that leash, and whether that’s for better or worse, time will tell. For a millenia, the alchemists, mage-practitioners, and cryptotheological scholars of the Third Canton complained in secret about the leash kept on them by Aldomina’s distant leaders. In their towering universities, they taught approved curricula but hid their most occult research, biding their time for a day they could split away from the confederation. And when the Drakkan revolted, they found their opportunity, using the Kay’van uprising as a cover for their own split. Can’t blame them for that, but I’ll always remember that it was opportunity, and not morality, that led them to side with us.
Free Seas of Kay’va, formerly the Fourth Canton (kai-vah): First established after Cecile Cartine’s revolution over 300 years ago, today Kay’va is home to a collection of aligned communes who swear that the only way to prosperity is through the defense of equality. Kay’va means "Our House," and there could be no better name for my homeland. We call it "The Free Seas," but it’s actually a free association of communes, which we first established after our revolt over 300 years ago. Led by rebel slave and autodidact Cecile Cartine — founder of the worker-collectivist ideology which came to be known as Cartinism — not only did we managed to establish autonomy, but we also shook the very foundations of a damn near millennia old empire in the process. When it came time to build Concentus, the ringed city, I suppose we wanted to prove that it could do just as well, if not better, than any of the other nations of the continent. Which is probably why our chunk of the city is so often decorated with the flag of the revolution: a blue field, with golden sextant and machete connecting the waves to the stars.
The Fifth Canton, the Protectorate Kingdom of Ojantan (oh-JAHN-tahn): Ojantan was once a kingdom to rival Aldomina, and a solid place to live to boot, if a little over-structured for my taste. But the Devils got to the nation’s leaders, and now it’s been reduced to another Canton in the Empress’ collection. The most recent Canton of Aldomina, added only around 350 years ago, just a generation before the Kay’van revolt. Previous to that, Ojantan was its own rival kingdom, stretching across the southern half of the continent. Because of being so recently conquered, the Ojantani dragged their feet and sabotaged efforts to move forces through their land towards Kay’va strongholds, contributing to the success of the revolution. In the old days, Ojantani was a solid place to live. Each person—even the living embodiments of their god folk—found their place in a grand social diagram. Unfortunately, sounds like some folks wanted to draw that diagram a little different.
The Residuum: A realm of vibrant color, where the things of the world go when their time in the material world fades away. A plane of death, but rendered in glorious light.
Sangfielle, the Heartland: Once, it was a breadbasket for the whole Dominion, now this is territory haunted twice: first by a bloody, buried past, and second by an uncanny, indifferent future. Fought over for centuries, Aldomina rose to prominence millenia ago when it finally conquered this fertile land. A breadbasket for the whole Dominion, each canton once had part of the territory (though the Throne kept most of it for itself). This is territory haunted twice: first by a bloody, buried past, and second by an uncanny, indifferent future. Many fled, but many more did not have that luxury. Today, two centuries later, the heartland has become a re-frontier, a home to survivors clinging to each other and to those explorers, occultists, technologists, and devotees of the strange, called to this land of ash, metal, and ichor.

Cities/Towns

Banderole: The City of Banners. People all around Sangfielle have been dreaming of it. Some even build models of it in their sleep...
Blackwick County: From the mines to the lake, the hills to the flats, the town once called Eastern Folly has felt a little more expansive now that it’s out of the hard grip of the old curse. Its people aren’t perfect, but they’ve made it through some dark times, and that’s more than most can say.
Cantbank: A long time ago, the story goes, Aldomina set its sights on the heartland. Conquest, colonization, and consolidation. Well, turns out that the Heartland has many a mighty thing inside of it. And one such thing had many a favorite place. And it set out, so it is said, to visit each of them until Aldomina came. And as was its way, whichever it was at when Aldomina finally reached the gates, that place would be hidden from the eyes of the invaders. And so it is, by the blessing of its patron, that Cantbank, a market town built into the walls and caves of an old clifface, went untouched.
Concentus, the Ringed City (kun-CHEN-tus): A vast ringed city surrounding (and containing) Sangfielle. Covered in magical wards, filled with those eager to delve into the heartland or to push back its most fearsome creatures. The gaslit city of Concentus is now the most technologically advanced metropolis of the continent. When the panic set in, the five great states responded in kind. For the first time since the Kay’van revolution, delegates from each power met and agreed that something must be done to contain the ill wind sweeping across the once verdant country. And so, Concentus was built as a collaboration. A vast ringed city, covered in magical wards, filled with those eager to delve into the heartland or to push back its most fearsome creatures. Because of relics and inventions recovered from the depths of the heartland, the gaslit city of Concentus is now the most technologically advanced metropolis of the continent. And yet, each moonrise feels like it may be the last...
Eastern Folly: A little mining town, touched by the heartland’s truth.
Marrowcreek: Quite a ways west of Blackwick, the maps say there is a town called Marrowcreek. Never been myself, but I’ve heard about it (often in the sort of hypotheticals people pose to you to “make conversations” at parties.) Lye Lychen, Chine, and Hazard visited it (or a Course-built facsimile) a few months back, when they hopped off the Jade Moon.
Sapodilla: One of, if not the largest city inside of the walls of Concentus. Sapodilla is on the western shore of Sangfielle's inland sea, and its leaders have gotten very good at selling it as a postcard pretty, tiered seaside paradise where civilization and culture are defended unlike anywhere else in Sangfielle. Well. it certainly is right to say that the way they defend their culture is unique, but the rest of it? Call me a skeptic. Sapodilla rests on the western shore of the vast lake that takes up much of southeastern Sangfielle, and prizes itself as the rare hub of culture in the bloodfields. In recent years, the powerful witch hunting organization called the Glim Macula has grown in power there, owing to the city’s focus on furthering “civilization.” Not too much is known about how things are inside of its gates since Queen Virtue rolled into town.
The Sleeping City: Every 13 years, a metropolis wakes with the buzzing sound of life. Do not cross its borders uninvited, especially not when it and its inhabitants are at rest. Upon visiting the City,
Vish: A small fishing village west across the mountains from Blackwick. Marn’s hometown.
The Waterlogged Kingdom: At least that’s what we’re calling it for now. Deep under the water, an empress waits. There’s been debate: Did they turn the wood from her sunken ship into a palace for her? Build castles out of the lake sand? Maybe they never stopped marching, and they’re down there right now, just going round in circles. An likely area of inquiry, for certain.
Yellowfield: Before the Panic this little valley of yellow flowers was the territory of a petty wizard and the subjects he frightened or beguiled. He called it his Xanthic Demesne, but these days we just call it Yellowfield. In the center of the valley, there’s a candle factory, and it is here that the old axiom refers: "All the candle light in Sangfielle was made with just twenty odd hands."
Zevunzolia: The hypothesized city of cities, the telos behind telos, the place high above, the heaven yet to be reached. A utopian dream pursued at great lengths by the secretive Wrights of the Seventh Sun. Who the hell knows. A miraculous city waiting to be built? A utopian dimension adjacent our own? "The Seventh Sun Itself," I think I heard one of those fools call it. All I know is, however prime and pristine it is in promise, the pricetag keeps going conveniently unmentioned...

Landmarks, etc.

Bell Metal Station: The broad, 10 story tall station that the Bell Metal Band operates out of. Hard, metal-reinforced stonework. Scaffolding on scaffolding. Wood and leather and old picture frames. A middle space between laboratory, bunker, and den.
Bluerock Quarry: Bluestone is what you might guess from the name, a quarry for digging up stones of various qualities and makes, but all of which is blue in nature. While slate and limestone and granite all serve their ends, the real find is welkin, a stone as light as air but tough as the hardest metal. Now who could be on the lookout for something like that?
The Bridge Cathedral: In the hierarchy of all trains — or is it perhaps capitalized, I do not recall — there is one engine that storms ahead of the others. "The Burning God Among Iron Trains" is its name, but the Disciples of the Triadic Pyre call it simply Fire Alight. Well, whatever you might call it, it's a damned big one. And it needs to cross the Ojan like anything else. And thus: The Bridge Cathedral. Largest structure of its kind in Sangfielle or anywhere. At two miles across, it's partly a church, partly grim city, and partly an engineering pit. What are they engineering? Well... It turns out, being the devotees of the Fire Alight shifts your relationship with other trains. At least the ones who, themselves, are under the Burning God's thrawl.
The Ojan: To call it "The Ojan River" is not only to misspeak but to advertise your distance from knowledge. Ojan itself means "running water," and in Ojantani it is the word you attach to other words to mark them as rivers — each just an faint echo of this paragon of waterways.
Pledge House: A mysterious manor in Sapodilla’s Hibiscus District. Thirty odd years ago, a fire ravaged its attached (and magnificent) concert hall. In two days’ time, a rebuilt concert hall will host Davia Pledge’s grand return to the stage.
The Priory of the Mother-Beast: In the streets of Concentus, some food sellers use specially treated props to advertise their goods. The color of fruit is brighter; the loaves of bread retain softness and texture indefinitely; meat glistens. Yet by extending their beauty through time, they trade their very nature as victuals, becoming injurious copies instead. Such is the Priory. Do not confuse the soft canyon breeze or the eternal noon sun for serenity. This place is ash, held.
Roseroot Hall: Now in the northern hills of Blackwick County, Roseroot Hall once stood mighty and imperious as a plantation house in the eastern half of the Heartland. Though the yon Vantzon-Estonbergh held it once, it fell into disrepair sometime after the panic. Details have been lost to time.

Facts and Figures

The Empress Altapasqua: Around fifty years after the panic set in, Altapasqua told her people she would ride across this cursed land and purge it of its disease and danger. She only made it about three fourths of the way. And well, it’s as expected. She was down there ever since.
The Course: There is debate about the true nature of the Heartland’s Truth, the power that turned Sangfielle into what it is today. But the Cleavers call it the Course. Part river, part lesson, part direction traveled. Entirely beyond the grasp of mortal minds.
The Harvest Festival: A yearly celebration of the fruit harvest in Eastern Folly, marked by folk plays, parades, and music. It nears...
The Panic: People from the Cantons, people who didn't live here already, like to think that this all started about 200 years ago, but that's really just when the panic set in. First they noticed the soil had turned. Then it was the water. Then it was the dead walking, the ground slipping away. Then they got afraid. They call it "the panic," I think because it's easier to swallow than facing it head on and calling it what it is: "The Truth."
The Shape: Are the trains that run across the Heartland bound to the Structure, or do they direct it? Is the overlap between the two even real at all, or might two machinic forces be at work here in Sangfielle?.
The Structure: Reason, logic, sense. The world is, fundamentally, a place that fits together and functions. We may not like that, say the adherents of the structure. And sometimes, the world may move in ways beyond our particular ken. But there is something holding it together, and that, they say, is the Heartland’s Truth: The Structure.

Deities

Arinpata (they/them): A slim being of joyous countenance and many heights, whose painted face guides souls to the Residuum. Or so they say.
Aterika’Kaal aka "Roseroot" aka "Rose Shade": An ambivalent and ancient spirit. Offers the sweet smell and sublime beauty of roses and the sturdy foundation of a root structure. In exchange: Feed it. Only a small, dangerous branch of the deity remains.
Becker Arbogast (he/they): This apathetic god of doctors takes the form of a mature adult. He is very short and has an overmuscled build. They have bone-white hair worn in a style that resembles a rocky outcropping. Their slitted eyes are alabaster. His body is covered in fur. They are usually portrayed as wearing a strange suit of armor (which incorporates abstract designs) and a ring. He carries a satchel of medical herbs.
Erlin, the Tactful God of Lakes (he/him): People don’t often think of "lakeness," and that’s because Erlin does the thinking for you. He embodies the relaxing, if humid, depths of Sangfielle’s many lakes. His temple is in the southwestern quadrant of the heartland.
Eunomia (she/her): The goddess of rainstorms. A tall, mature woman with a muscular build, wavy white hair in an attractive style, mauve skin, cobalt blue eyes. She's usually portrayed wearing a plain outfit made of solid water. She carries a drum.
Felesta (she/her): Goddess of fortune, luck, and reparation (material and otherwise). Often worshipped by Keen and other members of the Telluricist Union.
Genburi (he/him): What's there to be said about that old rat that people don't already know? A divine professor, taller than most, with an eye as much for provocative fashion as book learning. Wears a lot of purple. Knows a bunch of languages. Not much else to say.
Slumbous (any): A minor god of the Boundless Conclave, who is associated with the ritual practice of putting one’s candles out at night, but whose domains extend beyond that to include the more general realm of routines of care and rituals of restfulness. Often depicted in a big, crooked hat.
Snuffos (he/him): An even more minor god recognized by the Boundless Conclave, who decides whether to put out candles that tired people forget to snuff out before bed themselves. A petty god in more ways than one.
Subsolum: When a reporter passing east requested comment from the High Vicar on the distinguished deity worshipped at Yellowfield's only chapel, she was told only this: "My god is of the underneath, you see. The soil and the fertility in it. The deep soil, you understand. The soil that gives us these wonderful flowers." Well that was a crock of shit, wasn't it? Not sure what to think about this one. Was there actually a Subsolum once? Is the Lord of Yellowfield Subsolum, self-proclaimed or in golden honesty? Is the whole thing a con? Who the hell knows.

Trains (and other vehicles)

Blue Wind: One train among many in the Bridge Cathedral. This one seems to be inhabited by a more boisterous group of Gandy Dancers than the others. Who could say why? If I had to guess, I'd say that those strange creatures are trying to take the train off of Fire Alight's track and put it back on the regular old Shape.
Jade Moon: A luxurious vessel, the Jade Moon glides up and down the Ojan. You have to work to find its exterior wooden hull, so covered is it in silken, green banners and curtains. Dining, dancing, gambling, live music, plush living. An engine that churns below. 250 feet long, 50 feet wide. It’s a beast, but in the width of the Ojan — in some places over 2 miles wide — it pales.
Prince Alexander: A train turned over before its time, if such a thing exists.
The Red Zephyr: A train what takes on strange character under the moonlight. For a month, it’s torn into not only Bell Metal Station, but also any passing train it could reach. A problem severe enough that the Shape Knights so troubled reached out for help from the biggest Cleaver they’d ever met. But when the Blackwick Group investigated it, they found that the Zephyr was in fact the Shape Knight Fezh, transformed into this new horror by the person they trusted most of all.

Locals, etc.

Agdeline (she/her), Ettel (he/him), and Larch (he/him): This devil, drakkan, and human trio once spent time mining in the hills of Blackwick. In recent time, they’ve found that poorly armed travelers make for better prospecting. Sometimes called "the Toll Collectors." Recently, they’ve been spotted as bandits, hired thieves, and paid escorts — sometimes (strangely) holding down multiple jobs in multiple places at the same time. In any case, rumor has it that they fly a new banner now... The Knights of Virtue, aka The Toll Collectors: It is fair to say that this group is still made up of the devil Agdeline (she/her), drakkan Ettel (he/him), and human Larch (he/him), but it isn't right to simply call them a "trio" anymore. The former miners-turned-bandits-turned-thieves-turned-bodyguards have come into the employ of Queen Virtue, and have revealed their true nature: Once per month, three more of them appear from the depths of the Blackwick Mines, and soon join with the others in search of and profit and adventure.
Janek Polyte (he/him): Among the group of 20-somethings who went down into the strange ‘basement’ of the old Abbey, Janek is the one who found himself pulled most closely to sights beyond... and to the cursed object they found on the altar. A Drakkan member of Blackwick County’s youth community, and a member of the group who went beneath the Abbey’s ruins a year ago. Quiet in public, and little kept in his humble home, and if his equipment is anything to go by, an undercover agent of the Free Seas of Kay'va. Ekule Polyte (he/him): The Blackwick group first met this “Star-Touched” Kay’van agent under the pseudonym of “Janek”, hiding out in Blackwick County. Now, he waits patiently for extraction.
Old Alamae (she/her): More than just a well regarded oracle, Alamae is a living institution in Scorpion Town.
Alekest san Geraint, the Margrave of Tescano, the Porcelain Knight (he/him): If you’re a long time reader of this publication, Alekest needs no introduction. You know him from his past adventures, like the slaying of the UnSevered Beast or his solitary stand at Cedartree Station. Maybe you forget some of the details, his angst-filled childhood, the fraught years after his mother’s death, his uncanny dreams. Well, Knight Pickman seems not to be a reader, if her confusion at the Margrave’s arrival is any indication. Somehow, someway, he has become fast friends with the Shape Knight Pickman.
Ana Berylia (she/her): Dayward YVE’s maid, a somewhat overwhelmed Carpana who has not adjusted to life in the Heartland. Her body is covered in brown/black hair with little streaks of grey at her temples. Mostly seen in uniform, a grey dress with white apron.
Appletun (he/him): Along with his fellow researchers Bleaser and Getta, Appletun pursues academic research as a low-ranking member of the the Wrights of the Seventh Sun. While others under Mabriella study puppets of a physical sort, Appletun's focus is a more flexible sort of marionette: Fictional characters.
Babor Mirah (they/them): As the Trade-Medium of one of nomadic clans of the Caravan of the Coin, Babor serves as a leader, guide, and chief negotiator.
Bucho (he/him): Whether you first hear of him as "Big Bucho" or "Two Step Bucho," once you meet him, you’ll understand that no name does the gallant Shape Knight justice.
Calen fel Dynestia (he/him): Heir to a grim line, Calen has joined the Shape Knights in an effort to rehabilitate the fel Dynestia name. Eyes sunken, pasty purple face covered with stubble, and all the highest fashion of Sapodilla circa twenty years ago. Betrayed his lover, Fezh,
Callix, the Aquiline Marquis (he/him, named but unmet): The last reigning Aldominan ruler of Sapodilla, now holding court below his old city streets. But wait, what's this below his Interred Citadel? Might further boulevards yet roll?
Chantilly Scathe (she/her): The signs and barkers rarely say her name alone. She ain’t Chantilly, or even Ms. Scathe, she’s always "Ms. Chantilly Scathe and Her Shackled Engine." Don’t let her showmanship and ringmaster garb fool you though: She seems to have done what no Shape Knight could: Make a train of the Shape, The Grand Cormorant Limited, her very own pet.
Chine (he/they): The only member of the Blackwick Group to be born in Eastern Folly, Chine was called out to by the truth of the heartland.
Davia Pledge (she/her): “The mad composer of Sapodilla” who vanished from the public view for decades after the fire of Pledge House. Every year, they say, she invites a select few to a private concert of her newest composition, and getting an invite is either a high honor or a mark of one’s own corruption, depending on which aristocrat you ask. In the past year, her name has become widely known not for her concerts, but for “Pledge Cylinders,” recordings which produce crisp, beautiful music, though by what devilry it is not known.
Darling Malice (she/her): Once, Darling Malice hunted Virtue Mondegreen across the whole of the heartland. She even managed to kill her. But that didn’t stick, it seems. And now, Darling’s own ghastly existence is tied to her twice-undead prey’s.
Dayward yon Vantzon-Estonbergh aka Dayward YVE (he/him): The moneyed scion of a minor Aldominan dynasty, Dayward YVE has traveled to the Heartland as both eager-apologist and curious explorer. Sensing opportunity, he's settled in Blackwick County, and has used it as a staging ground for an ever-growing industrial empire.
Delian (he/him): A new arrival to Marrowcreek and its slaughterhouse. Staying at the midtown Hotel.
Duvall (he/him): Born into one of the few human families who still have noble status in Aldomina, Duvall wasted his inheritance on a doomed adventure into Sangfielle. Now colonized by the insectoid servants of the Structure, Duvall searches to solve a question as old as people: What is "the self"?
Dyre Ode (he/they): When an agent of the almanac pressed this mysterious, masked figure for more information about him, they only repeated their name, as if to ensure we’d print it right, adding "Dyre with Y but Ode as you’d like, a poem said in praise or a debt gone unpaid. It bothers me little, how you spell that name." The Blackwick Group first encountered this mysterious figure during their investigation into Roseroot Hall, where they helped him recover his skull.
Proctor Ekashi Wolff (he/him): A leading member of the Triadic Pyre in Blackwick County, whose heritage and faith have led him to close communion with the Arinpata, the Ojantani "Smiling God of Death," who also serves as the Triadic Pyre’s God of Ashen Remains. Ekashi is an Ojantani himself, but was born and raised here in Blackwick, and has spent his life trying to keep it safe and stable. Though if you ask me, I have to wonder if he really cares about Blackwick, or if he just sees it as a place of sturdy form that can usher the world into fire peacefully. Once, the good proctor helped lead the services of the Triadic Pyre in Blackwick, and spend what free time he had working with the township's council. It was that same interest in community and service which led him to stand up for his people when the Pale Magistrates blew into town. Unfortunately for Mr. Wolff, good character is not bulletproof.
Emma Serchilde (she/her): One of the most successful investigators in Glim Macula’s history, Serchilde made her name ferreting out a group of heritrixes who allegedly served a god of slaughter. Where other witch hunters lean on deductive reasoning or evidence collection, Serchilde’s technique is simple: Intimidate witnesses through sheer force of will, using her loyal underlings — Janis, Aztel, and Nelzo — if it becomes necessary to prove that silence will be met with blood. Which isn’t to say that she’s afraid to get her own hands dirty. Once, Emma was known in Sapodilla as one of the most successful investigators of the Glim Macula. A brutal interrogator and competent captain, Emma was nevertheless more loyal to herself than to the Macula. When Virtue became the city’s new queen, Emma was quick to sell out her allies and devote herself to the city’s newest power.
Ennib Lee, the Wildcat (she/her): Named for her custom ammo, this sniper is the only human in Rebek Semm's crew of Magistrates. A crack shot, a smart mouth, and a chip on her shoulder.
Erm (he/him): The leader of the Bell Metal Band truly is just a little guy, but that don’t be confused: he’s absolutely the boss around here! Chomps cigars, wears custom Shape train armor featuring the Bell Metal Band emblem. His white and brown fur is like a guinea pig’s, but covered in soot and smoke.
Es (she/they): A heritrix with a penchant for the finer things in life and the perilous ventures needed to earn them.
Etienne Alize (he/him): Deacon of the Blood in the Triadic Pyre, and de facto sawbones aboard the Jade Moon.
Eyes, Ears, and Mouth: These three Caprak — loyal to the full extent of loyalty to Alaway — are no talk, all action.
Ezek Semm (he/him): An up-and-coming Pale Magistrate, whose devotion to Fulmina, goddess of instant justice, is not to be questioned. It is, however, concomitant with his desire for glory.
Felix Hollowfield (he/him): In many ways, brilliant inventor Felix Hollowfield is the reason for the recent surge in Glim Macula activity. Though the group has stalked the streets of Sapodilla for decades, it was Hollowfield’s collection of tools that both allowed the Macula to face down truly powerful supernatural foes and put a deep and singular fear in the hearts of Sapodillans. His weapons reveal the hidden, nullify the mystical, and ground the transcendent. Where could he have found such ideas as these? Once, Hollowfield was the genius behind the Glim Macula's technological supremacy in Sapodilla. A single push, though, and he's little more than a memory.
Fezh (they/them): Soft for a Shape Knight. Strong for a Shape Knight. The closest there was to everyone in Bell Metal, but Calen most of all. Missed greatly. Now lives as the furious engine, Red Zephyr.
Gala (she/her): A young worker at the candle factory, Gala has grown increasingly concerned about the state of Yellowfield and the high vicar. Now, her concern grows to worry as her mother, Galena, has gone missing.
Gilium (they/them): Veteran Cleaver and Chine’s big hearted mentor.
Gasto (he/him): A young ragamuffin, protege of Dyre Ode and ward of a powerful Angel.
Gren Voznik, the Silent Hatchet (he/him): Big, quiet, and driven to solve problems axe-blade first.
Sgt. Harin Hardesty (they/them): Mid-level constable in Sapodilla’s Sunflower district.
Jolyon (they/them): An old friend. Swears they aren’t the train.
Karston Leberge (he/him): Sergeant of Bread inside of the Wrights of the Seventh Sun, Karston runs operations at the Bluerock Quarry.
Katonya (she/her): A cleaver near the end of her career, Katonya’s body bears all the marks of years in service to the Heartland. Loyal to those who employ her, and a walking catastrophe to those she opposes.
Mr. Kenson (he/him): Big Horn Ram Caprak. White fur with brown and black spots. Personal valet. Copper wireframe glasses. Proper black suit.
Dr. Kerr Kern (she/her): A Telluricist on loan to the Magistrates, where she works on final preparations for her Keen exam. While she's grown close to the group over the last year, their methods do trouble her. Currently holding Marn's research on Zevunzolia, nullstuff, the Wrights of the Seventh Sun, and the fundamental nature of curses.
Lenore Voivode (he/him): In the pre-Panic heartland, Lenore was the nebbish and prissy human thrall to Lord Asator Crosley, one of Virtue’s many rival vampire lords. Today, he is of the blood in his own right, the Night Librarian of the prestigious Rotundana library, and a member of the Telluricist Union.
Lejune Borr of Paper Faith (she/her): Priest of Fulmina and former disciple of the Prophet Calvin III, who the Kay'van agent Polyte killed many months ago now. A master of applied prayer.
Lye "Lyke" Lychen (he/him): Tossed out of one of the many occult academies of the Unschola Republica, Lyke came to Sangfielle to continue his magical education in the most hands-on (and pockets-full) way he could.
Mabriella du Feza (she/her): Among the Glim Macula, it is said that Mabriella du Feza is an accomplished interrogator, brilliant scholar, and malicious commander. What goes unsaid, because it is not widely known, is her role as a ‘liaison’ from another, even more sinister organization. Queen of Puppets.
Maleister Price (he/him): Sherriff of Blackwick and newest member of the town council. The miners in town would all tell you that Price is the best of them and always has been, but you're not quite sure that you remember that about him.
Marcos Soto (he/him): Decades ago, Marcos was a well known member of the Glim Macula and Sapodilla's lingering aristocracy. Last seen decades ago, on his way to to a private performance of Davia Pledge.
Sister Marisha (she/her): The previous attendant of the small Boundless Conclave temple in town. A caprak woman in her 50s, and a quiet fixture to the town. For decades, the human called Marisha served as the representative of the Boundless Conclave in Eastern Follow and as the only apparent follower of the old Cult of the Mother-Beast. Eager to guide, and quick to reprimand, she gained a reputation as a well meaning hard ass in the mining town. Now she finds herself adjusting to life inside this secret priory of salt, ash, and ceramic.
Marn Ancura (she/her): Recently raised to Keen status inside of the Telluricist Union, Marn’s en route to Blackwick with aims to help folks the best she can (and solve one of the great medical mysteries of the heartland).
Mirlande (she/her): A senior Star-Touched agent of Kay’va on her final assignment.
Myron Andrashi (they/them): A reporter — and a damned good one — for this very publication, the Serialized Almanac of the Heartland Rider.
Omerra Celendi (she/her, he/him): A human mage — with a speciality in alchemical inventions — from the Unschola Republica in his late 20s. She frames her light brown skin face with wavy dark hair down to her shoulders and big round glasses and wears a playful grin on his face. Today, it’s high waisted, dark green corduroy slacks, a sleeveless white button up blouse, a single powered shape knight gauntlets on his right hand, a pauldron and half-plate piece that covers the left side of her torso, and a sort of dark gold halfcape across the other side. Tomorrow it will be something even more immaculate.
Dr. Pest: Sawbones of the Jade Moon.
Phendleton (they/them) and Brace (he/him): Representatives of the so-called True Loyalists of the Sunken Empress. What makes them “true loyalists”? Well, if we knew that, things would be a lot simpler, wouldn’t they? Fendleton the Lake Skeleton: A boisterous skeleton that Lyke once met on the way to Last Rest (and Bell Metal Station beyond that). Loyal to Altapasqua? Or... loyal to unloyalty? Hard to pin down.
Pickman (she/her): Fifteen years. That’s how long Pickman spent on the train. After being rescued by a Shape Knight, she found herself compelled to take up the armor and join their cause — a reaction that puts her in good company, as many other knights did just the same.
Rana (she/her): An lonely devotee of Kaitankro who now lives out her days attending to one of her chosen god’s many kite-shrines.
The Ravening Beast (it/its): A howl in the mind of Lye Lyken. A beast on the hunt. It haunts through the course of time, the shape of mind. An echo of a possible future?
Rebek Semm, Justice Bringer (she/her): Leader of the pack of Magistrates laying siege to Blackwick. Oh, and the late Ezek Semm's older sister.
High Vicar Regan Alaway (currently he/him, changes over time): The de facto leader of Yellowfield, the vicar preaches daily in the Factory's churchfront. A charismatic figure with a bright vision for the future. Alaway (currently he/him, varies historically): Last seen as the waxy, vampiric minister of Yellowfield, Regan, whose generations-long study of technology led him to dream of (and work towards creating) "The City of Lights," a place of flameless fire, energetic implements, and the safety and freedom to live as one wants. Disposed of, for now at least. But the dream yet lives. Now, though, his thralls wander the streets of lower Blackwick. Now, having somehow returned to the form that the Blackwick Group first met him as, he threatens to steal the very lifeblood of Blackwick itself.
Reuben (he/him): A kind and hard-working fisherman who’s lived in Marrowcreek for a while now, per his own telling.
Stanislaka (she/they): Marisha’s replacement, the new attendant of the Boundless Conclave temple, an young ojantani whose faith to Slumbous knows no bounds.
Sym (she/her): A heritrix living in Sapodilla with connections to a mysterious underground, attempting to help others escape the Macula and the city.
Tamith "Tamm" Callaki (they/them): An aspiring young sort, 19 or 20, who works as a courier in Blackwick, their home town.
Teak: First mate of the Jade Moon.
Tombo (he/him): Lye Lychen’s argumentative (but loyal) fish companion.
Uno Riscano (he/him): 🂿 The so-called “Count of Cards,” this devil is the leader of one of the “six suits” that make up the Wrights of the Seventh Sun. Target of Hazard’s ire due to an ill-handed card game. Now headless.
Virtue Mondegreen (she/her): Virtue was supposed to have been killed in the great vampiric purge, years before the panic. But it’s like I said before, Sangfielle was strange long before the Devils noticed it.
The Visitor: According to the Wrights, a figure came to them from Zevunzolia and opened their eyes to the truth above it all.
William Blick (he/him): Head of the Macula’s street level forces. Head of the Macula’s Honorguard, once a ceremonial unit with ties to the rituals of Sapodilla’s liberation, now little more than a bunch of door-kicking bullies.
Doctor Yersa Mallow (she/her): According to at least some of the locals, Marrowcreek is named for Mallow, who led a group of the ill here to perform the sort of medicine that even the Unschola Republica forbids. Personally, I just don’t think it adds up.
Lady Zizilliana “Zizi” Esterházy (she/her): Once a well known artist of Sapodilla, Zizi reportedly died during the great fire of Pledge House. According to the book Remembering the Zahir, Lady Esterhazy was the last known owner of the titular Zahir, a painting which supposedly fates the person watching it to develop over time into their apprehension of either the subject of the painting or a striking yet elusive figure in the painting’s far distance.
Zofina (she/her): An apothecary and witch in Marrowcreek, whose shop you might confuse for a house if you paid it no second glance.

Organizations

The Bell Metal Band: Of all the Shape Knight gangs, the Bell Metal Band might be the most curious (in both meanings of the word). From their tall station at the intersection of two major Shape lines, the Bell Metal Band tries to yank away whatever train parts they can safely reach for study and, frankly, for fun. In the recent days, though, they’ve come under some sort of trouble and have put out a call for help. Once, the Bell Metal Band used their base of operations to capture Shape parts for study and re-use. But a tragic betrayal has sent them spiraling in unexpected ways. Now, a new structure rises atop their home...
The Boundless Conclave: Less of an individual church, more of an association between hundreds of independent faiths. Small sects, nearly forgotten cults, and unjealous gods make up this vast pantheon. Spread across the heartland, this religion is a (some say cynical) collection of hundreds of other faiths. Small sects, nearly forgotten cults, and unjealous gods make up this vast pantheon. As a lay member, you are allowed to use the facilities of any associated place of worship. As practicing clergy, joining the Conclave costs you some percentage of your tithe, but joins you to a network of other practitioners, places your god among the exalted many, and guarantees you at least some parishioners. In some ways, to join the Conclave is to make a bet: At least some of this stuff must be real, right? May as well throw in with everyone else and make the best of it.
The Broken Quartet: Cello, viola, violin, clarinet. That’s all it takes to make people move. Well, that and some skill.
The Caravan of the Coin: Cursed by Ribbadon, Frog God of Wealth, these traveling merchant-clerics never arrive at a destination carrying what they expect. It goes like this: Once, a pair of brothers wanted an ox, and so they did what they were told never to do. They made a deal with Ribbadon, the great Frog God of Wealth. "Give us a silver coin," they said, and he did, on the condition that they return the coin that year, or else owe it and its double the next year, and so on, forever. Well, they bought the ox, and with that ox they bought a pair more, and soon they appeared quite rich. I write "appeared" because, in fact, they were deeply indebted to old Ribbadon. As the two grew in age and worry, they sought to make good on their debt, but there was one problem: They had, of course, spent that silver coin many decades ago, so they were at a loss. Until, they realized, with all their wealth, they could forge a coin like the one they were given, and fool the old frog. Wheelbarrows filled with silver and gold were led to Ribbadon’s court, and in a single swipe of his tongue, he swallowed years of profit in an instant, and then bellowed his judgment. "You have paid me back one more coin than you owe me, yet one less than you took." The brothers knew instantly that their deception had been for naught, but before they could object, a curse descended. "There is no fortune too rich in taste for my tongue, and until I have my coin, on your tongues will be the only way to hold your fortune." When the brothers, their kin, their descendents, and even their servants returned home, they found that anything they’d carried with them had been turned into something else of the same weight. Gold coins turned lead. Prayer books transformed into straw. A rock to a diamond. This is why you see those caravans now, hauling mysterious cargo across the grasslands and deserts of the heartland. They’re trading whatever it is they can, forever, in doomed worship of Ribbadon. Paying down interest. And looking for that old coin. They’ll tell you that the lesson is that you cannot stop change, and so you must lean in to the chaos. Let yourself and everything you have be changed by curse of the heartland. And they’ll demonstrate their new mastery over magics alchemical, illusionary, and alterative as proof of their philosophy’s power. And yet... sometimes they’ll tell you nothing at all, the hypocrites, because in their mouths they carry cargo they are desperate to keep. It is as old Ribbadon implied: Whatever they hold on their tongues is kept from the curse.
The Carnival of Moted Light: It announces itself with wind and furious sound, an invitation to partake in joys and curiosities. You may not leave. Not yet. Not until it's over. Unless, of course, you'd like to stay forever.
Cleavers: Given how loose and fluid this collection of monster hunters, mystery solvers, and naturalists is, it’s hard to call them “an organization.” But when the central belief system of a group is that everything is ever in flux, well, give them the credit of applying that particular ontology to themselves, and take them at their word: Whether left to their own devices or joined to a commune of other cleavers, on a long enough timeline, they all become tremendous, monstrous angels.
The Covenant of Kaitankro: You’ve seen them, haven’t you? The unsettlingly gregarious priests with the strange, chitinous crow masks? Of course you have, with their stilt-legs and their stilt-houses and their collection of stakes and strings and, of course, the kites. I asked one once if it was a pun: Kite and Crow, chitin crow. Something like that. The priestess told me that Kaitankro was a very real god, if a funny one, and that one day, he visited her. Like every morning, she raised each of the town’s kites up to the winds in daily worship, and Kaitankro landed on the smallest one — a sight to see, she said, since her god is so large a being. And like a carnivalist, Kaitankro walked down the wire, tips of her talons, until he met the priest at the bottom. There, I was told, they whispered in the priest’s ear a single phrase: "Better to live as birds on wires than die as men in the wind." Chaos, it seems, breeds community, too. (Editor’s note: If these gods are so compelled to grow, grow, grow, why the hell does this ‘bird’ god seem so happy to just bounce from place to place? Isn’t anything in Sangfielle predictable?)
The Disciples of the Triadic Pyre: Appropriately devoted to a trio of gods, the Triadic Pyre believe that entropy is the only certain thing in this world, and as such aim to master it. Recently began to mark workers willing to do their tasks in the mines with their brand. I’ll say as little as I can because there are few words one can write about them that won’t guide them to you like a beacon, marking the ink, page, and writer to be burnt as fuel. The disciples worship a trio of gods that they call the Triadic Pyre, but it is hard to understand how these three beings — powerful though they may be — came first into alignment with each other. From the Magistrates of the Second Canton, they took Fulmina, goddess of immediate justice, and appointed her ruler of the Flame’s Spark. From the terrible hierarchies of the locomotive Shape that runs across the heartland, they found a burning god among iron trains, whose name my lips dare not utter lest it lay its tracks towards you and I both, and aligned that beast with the Fire Alight. And finally, whether as cruel corruption or in a moment of lightness, they adopted the Ojantani Arinpata, the Smiling God of Death as their deity of Ashen Remains. Under it all is a simple belief: Even in the heartland where things sometimes find second or third life, in the end, everything burns, everything dies, everything ceases to be. And for the Disciples, the best place to be is holding the match.
Glim Macula: Whether Sapodilla looks postcard-perfect to you or if you find yourself looking for a place to spit when someone repeats the claim that it is the “most civilized” corner of the heartland, it is the Glim Macula you have to thank. Empty faces. A flame that burns through you. Witch hunters in white coats. Until earlier this year, Sapodilla was marked by its white coated witch hunters, who terrorized the city’s margins and invented new boogeymen when they could not find the ones they were certain to live in the shadows. Under Queen Virtue, they’ve been scattered to the wind.
The Shape Knights: It took people with clear minds, great ingenuity, and implacable spirit to face down and defeat one of the living trains of Sangfielle. In the time since, they’ve crafted armor from their slain foe, and with that have come to be experts of all things train. They herd, they breach, they redirect. But they haven’t yet killed a second.
Sisters of the Mother-Beast: A dedicated priory of worshippers of a now-dead god, their faith now in a moment of transition towards a new figure of worship... A dedicated priory of worshippers, living in an eternal hymn, worshipping a god long dead.
The Star-Touched (unspoken): In Kay’Va, it is said that the stars are the first thing we see which belong to everyone. And so, just as the light from the innumerable touched their souls, they too shall shine out from the countless isles and brighten the mainland. In plaintongue, these agents of the Free Seas have been granted unique knowledge and remarkable aptitudes — no two operatives have been received the same gifts yet. And they use those talents for the sake of Kay’Va, serving as envoys, investigators, killers, organizers, and everything else that must be done for the safety of the seas and the spread of Cartinism.
The Telluricist Union: Made up by a mix of peoples driven to the hills by Aldomina, this group of knife sharpeners, herbalists, geologists, and all around investigators have made it their job to keep their old wisdom and see it used to help those in need. The best among them are called Keen. When Aldomina expanded its empire into the heartland, it did so with conquest in mind and weapons in hand. They faced resistance of course. The peoples who’d lived here — people who today we’d call Carpana, Ojantani, Drakkan, and many others besides — had done so for thousands of years even before the Devils had escaped hell, and they weren’t eager to see their ways of life destroyed. Nevertheless, they lost that fight. Many were killed directly, others enslaved, and some driven to barren lands in the hills, mountains, and wastes. The Telluricist Union comes from a group of the latter. A group of survivors, largely though not entirely Carpana, pulled together to survivor against all odds, combining know-how from this nation and that tribe, and developing new techniques and tools to make a hard life a little more livable. They sharpened knives, they aided the ill, they made elegantly simple machines, they studied the world around them. And then the Panic hit, the truth of the Heartland became increasingly loud. They lost folks in the chaos. But in the end, that only tempered their will to survive and maintain. The Telluricist Union, and the ones they call the Keen, were formed thereafter. Something like 300 members at any given time. People dedicated not only to keeping that old wisdom around, but to see it used to help folks in need.
Wrights of the Seventh Sun: A secret society dedicated to the construction of Zevunzolia, whatever the cost. Their motivations are many: Some believe that the Devils ought to have continued climbing when they escaped hell, that this was not the paradise earned. Others believe that Zevunzolia is telos of telos, the end-cause of all end-causes, and thus will inevitably bring itself into being. And given that, to do anything but aid it is to risk exclusion from it, or worse.

Objects of Interest

The Marrisa Lefebvre Trilogy: Apparently, in some other world, Kay'Va stretches further. And in this place, they publish books — mystery books. And in a few of them there's a detective by this name who can't help getting herself into trouble.
Notes On the Paradise Medicine: A collection of research notes from Hollowfield, first hypothesizing that there may be medical advances available on or through Zevunzolia that are not available here in Sangfielle. In the second half, Hollowfield seems to write about a particularly destructive compound and its potential medical uses.
Sa’Ferna-ta-Fera: Translated loosely to “Talking with Ferna the Cunning,” Sa’Ferna-ta-Fera is an approximate transcription of a long, free-flowing conversation between an unnamed scholar and the pre-Panic Carpana sage, Ferna. The transcriber, a bastard child of a Great House of Aldomina who used his connection to Ferna’s tribe to initiate the process, hoped to capture the wisdom of the sage and rewrite it as a dissertation on the folk knowledge of Sangfielle. When Ferna convinced him to instead attempt to publish the transcript as-is, the bastard scholar found that publishers in both the First and Third Cantons refused to print it.

Ephemera

A hymn found in the notes of Janek Polyte

Her love is vast and nourishing.
Her glory does astound.
Thus in sin we're flourishing,
Tis sin to which we're bound.

With words we weave her love and ours,
And with our voices breathe:
A halt to death, a halt to stars,
A halt to what will be.

But listen, Mother-Beast, please know:
Tis love by which we've wrought
A world in which you're split in woe,
Instead of merely nought

Your love is vast and flourishing.
Your glory does astound.
Bless us with tears nourishing.
We’ll drink until we’re drowned.