Nystra

Once a well-established producer of silk from rare silkworms, the kingdom of Nystra now stands eerily empty after a mysterious night of savage ruin brought down by some unknown, shadowy force.  

History

Once a thriving place envied for its valuable silk, Nystra is now eerily empty. Decay gnaws away like a cancer in the forest where once a town thrived, where goodwives laughed and sang on the balconies of marble-columned townhouses. Now there is only silence. The hilltop citadel owned by dozens of petty warlords over the last hundred years is humbled and broken by thick boughs; nature dislocates its walls and her roots shatter its back. Yet the silence and stillness conceal strange life and a stirring danger. The land near the citadel is rich in mulberry trees that provide a bountiful harvest for a specialized native creature called a silkgoyle. These creatures resemble insect- like gargoyles, though they lay eggs and their young grow into man-sized silkworm caterpillars before metamorphosing into their adult, gargoyle-like form. Silkgoyles think coldly but no less cruelly than their more familiar kin, and the silk the caterpillars spin is of legendary quality. About a century ago, a group of greedy merchants led by Count Nys subjugated the silkgoyles and established the citadel town of Nystra. Carefully harvesting the silk from the boiled cocoons of the giant larvae, the merchants grew wealthy from their monopoly on the abundant silk.

However, the silk merchants were cruel and callous men, prone to playing strange and often depraved games with the hearts and lives of their townsfolk. One such game resulted in the death of the family of Tharl Grimull, a Taldan druid who helped control the larval silkgoyles and was frequently out of town rounding up strays. Rather than throwing away his life in a direct attack on the merchants, Tharl plotted a slow revenge on his employers and all who were willing to stand idly by for the sake of gold.

After months of careful cultivation, Tharl developed a strange new breed of plant. He planted its great violet seed in the garden at the center of town, watering it with his tears and blood, and spread the news that on midsummer’s night it would bloom with flowers that would cause the silkgoyle larvae to mature faster, bringing faster prof its to the people of Nystra. Meanwhile, he worked with the few silkgoyles that had managed to avoid being enslaved by the Nystran merchants, stealing larvae belonging to the town and allowing them to turn into adults rather than being boiled alive for their cocoon silk.

By midsummer’s day, Tharl’s plant had grown as large as a house, and the townsfolk were eager to see its effects on their captive silkgoyle larvae. As the villagers gathered around the plant, the merchant lords pressed close to witness the event firsthand. At noon, the dozens of violet flowers bloomed simultaneously and released a sweet pollen that entranced all who were near it—giving the blooming, mutated yellow musk creeper plenty of time to bore into their heads and turn them into yellow musk zombies. As the other townsfolk tried to flee, dozens of free silkgoyles (including their metamorphosed, rescued offspring) swarmed the citadel, snatching up villagers and returning them to the violet creeper. None escaped.

Now the creeper has overgrown all of Nystra, creating a dark briar of vines and mulberry trees, all festooned with curious violet flowers. The silkgoyles, immune to the powers of the plant, guard their new home, hiding amid the thorns and the ruins of human homes, sometimes idly sifting through the bones and treasures of their former masters. They nurse a terrible hatred for humankind, those who enslaved them and killed their children for silk, and tolerate no trespass. Some who approach Nystra see the flying shapes of the silkgoyles at night and mistake them for demons, and glimpses of man-sized maggots suggest horrors that have escaped from the Worldwound, or perhaps servants of the demon Treerazer of Kyonin. The wise take heed of such disturbing sights and turn back before reaching Nystra proper. Those who ignore the warnings blunder foolishly forward like so many before them, only to fall victim to the beautiful but deadly violet musk creeper.

The strangest part of Nystra’s tale is that Tharl was present at the moment of his vengeance and allowed his plant to consume him even as it killed the ones who murdered his family. Somehow, his will lingers on within the briar, steering its growth, animating its vegetation, and sometimes warning the silkgoyles of approaching intruders. Though it lacks intellect or true memory, the creeper still commands some power, and the insectoid rulers of Nystra pay it homage in something akin to worship; in time, Tharl’s creeper may become one of the minor gods of the River Kingdoms—an inhuman thing focused on vengeance, reproduction, and defense of its territory.

But the far-off markets of Absalom, Katapesh, and even Tian Xia still covet the rare and beautiful Nystran silk once produced here. Stockpiles of the rich fabric have finally been depleted, textile warehouses sit empty, and it is only a matter of time before foreign trade interests begin sending their own expeditions to Nystra to reclaim the town or capture live silkgoyle larvae to manufacture the legendary silk for themselves.