Well is Karond Kar named the City of Despair, for nowhere in all the world does the air itself hang so thick with misery and abject surrender. The wind howls without cease, the icy rains never relent, and what little can be glimpsed of the city proper speaks only of slavery and death, from the tormented statues that line the bay to the flitting shadows of harpies that cluster around the looming towers. In the decks below, the mere rumour of what awaits them in this place has the cargo moaning in fear and sorrow, their voices but the latest verse in a song that has echoed across these waters for millennia.
Stood at the prow of the ship, face to the wind and back to the crew, you force yourself to smile. Why would you not be happy, after all? You're coming home.
"Ah, a fine sight, is it not?" The captain of the ship is a cringing worm of a man, always trying to buy your favour with word and deed and ostentatious gifts. You have seen this man leap headfirst across the gap between ships while a maelstrom rages, laughing as he goes, yet now he wrings his hands and chooses each word with fearful, expectant care. Good. "Nothing like the sight of home after a long year upon the sea."
"So glad to be rid of me, captain?" You say coyly, just for the chance to watch him flinch. It feels good, in some ways. You know why he fears you so, took great pains to ensure it over the course of this voyage. Every twitch and shiver is a mark of your success, yet you cannot help but wish it were not necessary. It has been a lonely few months since you first set sail. "Worry not. My baggage is ready, my transport arranged. Bring us to the dock and I shall depart to trouble you no more."
He will be remaining in port for some time yet, passing inspections and paying tribute to the harbour lords and their distant masters, handing out payment to the crew and preparing his wares for market, but you will have no part in any of that. The flesh trade and all its flaws and foibles is a thing best endured at a distance if at all, and you'll have no part of it that is not forced upon you. Thankfully, there are few indeed who would ever dream to press upon a Sorceress a part she does not care to play.
"I would never dream of such disrespect, my lady," the captain lies as easily as he breathes, shaking his head and rubbing unconsciously at his left wrist. The marks you left there will never fade, but frankly you think he is lucky to have any hand left at all. Many among your sisters would do far worse to one who dared lay a hand upon that which was not his… but ah, you have ever been a soft touch. "Still, I wish you well on your travels. The road to Ghrond can be a harsh one at any time of year."
"Ghrond?" You snort, shaking your head, "Oh, Captain. All this time together and still making such assumptions."
You've been to Ghrond but once in your life, called to that dark tower in the north by the need to swear your vows and formalise your initiation into the Sisterhood, and if the fates are kind you'll never go there again. The wealth and power of Ghrond are beyond compare, the arcane knowledge and dark secrets hidden in its libraries drawing the most skilled and ambitious Sorceresses in the land year upon year, and all of them dance to the will of a single woman. To dwell within Ghrond is to yield oneself wholly and entirely to Morathi, and no matter what pretty lies her favoured pets tell themselves, you know you will never get back what you surrender to get there.
You're not so foolish as to believe that your small Convent is entirely free of Morathi's designs or that it could ever exist independently of her will, but distance provides some comfort, and as for the woman in charge… well.
All sorceresses within Naggaroth are students and subjects of the Dark Convent of Ghrond, but many of them live and work far afield from Morathi's personal fiefdom, either in private towers or vassal convents home to a few dozen women at best. Which city does your Convent call home?
[ ] Naggarond, The Tower of Cold
Heart and soul of the Land of Chill, Naggarond is a city of constant intrigue, the ambitious and powerful ever scheming against their rivals as they rise and fall in the esteem of Malekith. The Convent stands half a pace apart from this festering nest of vipers, providing their mercenary services to any who can afford their extortionate prices… or for free, to those currently in the Witch King's favour.
[ ] Clar Karond, The Tower of Doom
A sprawling metropolis set amid endless forests of black pines, Clar Karond's mighty shipyards form the core of an industrial powerhouse. The Convent is often called upon to provide enchantments and expertise to the local artisans, and many find themselves deeply entangled in matters of finance and industry.
[ ] Karond Kar, The Tower of Despair
Slaver's Gate is the Druchii's primary point of contact with the wider world, the launching point of every invasion and slave raid in Naggaroth's bloody history. The Convent's most notable clientele are the slave masters, who have many uses for mind-altering magics and spells for the healing and reshaping of flesh.
[ ] Har Ganeth, City of Executioners
Held holy by the Cult of Khaine, the City of Executioners is renowned for its inviolable laws and draconian punishments. The Convent here is small and rarely employed, seen by the Cult as an imposition by their nominal head and eternal rival Morathi, which suits the resident Sorceresses just fine.
[ ] Hag Graef, The Dark Crag
Sometimes referred to as the 'Second City' of Naggaroth, Hag Graef's vast mines and mighty armies make it a force to be reckoned with. By far the most common occupation of the sorceresses who study here is war, though those related to one of the Eight Families are oft called upon to aid in their bloodline's ascent.
A few more words are exchanged, then the captain makes his excuses and departs. Honestly, when he approached you with his plan you thought him a rather bolder kind of man, for what coward would seek prey guarded by magic and hire a sorceress to overcome it? Well, perhaps he thought himself a bolder kind of man as well, one now ruing his earlier ignorance and hubris. You're no accountant, but between the losses among his crew and the relatively paltry handful of slaves now occupying the holds beneath the deck, you'll be surprised if this voyage managed to turn a profit.
Not that you care, of course. You've got your payment, levied in coin and your pick of the loot now safely stowed away in the bag at your side, and once you leave this ship behind you need think no more of it. A productive if somewhat unpleasant season, ended now with the return to Naggaroth and with it your studies and your service.
The docks are getting closer now, the thronging crowds of patrons, sailors and slaves turning towards your ship with empty hearts and hungry eyes. Some few of them have spotted you already, you know. What do they see? What thoughts are running through their heads, what venom and what lies, what cold intent or bitter hate do they harbour in the miserable depths of their…
You stop. Inhale. Take hold of the writhing thread of magic within your heart and crush it, turning fearful passion and animal panic to hot, murderous power. The
dhar coils through your chest, runs through your blood, cradles your mind. It warms you better than any fire, wards you surer than the finest armour. What does it matter what any of those people, nay, those insects think? You are above them all. What does it matter what schemes they plot? Your power leaves theirs in the dust. You are a Sorceress of Naggaroth, a Bride of Malekith, and you will not be denied.
Satisfied, you turn your back upon the city and make for your cabin, seeking the treasures contained within. The corsairs flinch back as you pass and even the wind moans as it touches your skin, and this too is good. This is how it should be.
(Isn't it?)
In the teachings of Ghrond, magic exists naturally in the form of the Eight Winds, and can be forced into the singular unity of Dhar by the will of a skilled practitioner. While the Hated Asur strive for balanced mediocrity in their spellcasting, the Druchii understand that all are not equal, and favour speciality and areas of focus.
For a more developed breakdown of what each Wind encompasses (both its magical and mundane applications), their use and perception in Naggarothi society, see the following post.
You favour three winds, one of which is Dhar. Choose two others to be areas of particular focus and natural inclination; these skills will start at rating 5 and generate a hit on a 3+.
Choose Two:
[ ] [Strong] Aqshy, the Red Wind of Fire
[ ] [Strong] Azyr, the Blue Wind of the Heavens
[ ] [Strong] Chamon, the Gold Wind of Metal
[ ] [Strong] Ghur, the Brown Wind of Beasts
[ ] [Strong] Ghyran, the Green Wind of Life
[ ] [Strong] Hysh, the White Wind of Light
[ ] [Strong] Shyish, the Purple Wind of Death
[ ] [Strong] Ulgu, the Grey Wind of Shadows
In addition to the above, you also count two lores as being areas of weakness, either due to neglect or personal weakness. These lores will start at rating 2, and only generate hits on a 5+.
Choose Two:
[ ] [Weak] The Lore of Fire
[ ] [Weak] The Lore of Heavens
[ ] [Weak] The Lore of Metal
[ ] [Weak] The Lore of Beasts
[ ] [Weak] The Lore of Life
[ ] [Weak] The Lore of Light
[ ] [Weak] The Lore of Death
[ ] [Weak] The Lore of Shadows
Name and personal background, along with additional lore on the Dark Convents and how they work, will come in the next update.