Old Sebilis

Sebilis is patrolled by Trakanon's undead and magical guards, and even by Trakanon himself from time to time. There is also a large cult of froglocks who worship the dragon and do his bidding.

Sebilis lies in the heart of the Emerald Forest. Above ground, the city's tall twisting spires rise up into the canopy of the rain forest. While most of the city lies in ruins, the central palace is relatively intact. Several of the upper floors have collapsed so the only way to go inside the palace is down.

Jungle animals and froglocks wander about the exterior ruins. Several makeshift froglok tents and hovels built out of the ruins are also scattered about. There are many hidden deadfalls and pit traps that lead to a vast labyrinth underground.

Vine covered architecture is beautiful and evocatively symbolic of the Iksarian Empire of Old's former might and glory. However, all now lies in disrepair and ruin.

Trakanon has claimed the ancient council chamber, a large oval room with a domed ceiling, as his own. He is usually attended by several of his most elite froglok guardians. Also in attendance is Tolapumj, a powerful froglok enchanter and Trakanon's advisor. There is a vast dungeon beneath the ruins of Sebilis; Trakanon keeps the creatures that inhabit it healthy and content in exchange for their undying devotion and protection. From the froglok warriors that sweep the halls to the fungusmen who have established an entire colony in its depths, all swear allegiance to Trakanon.

There is one area beneath the city that even Trakanon does not go. The ancient crypts of Sebilis fester with legions of undead Iksar. After Trakanon's minions failed to fully eradicate the menace, he sealed off the crypt area from the rest of the underground dungeon complex. Rumors exist of an artifact of great power hidden deep within the lost crypts of Sebilis. All but fools have given up on locating this, however.

A Rime of War A dirge’s personal tale by Elna Tsernin

The waves rocking this vessel as we cross the Timorous Deep should be lulling me into a deep sleep, instead I find myself examining my actions and the tide of events that swept me here. I had been a successful dirge, and a beautiful one at that, I had always been proud of my unblemished scales and frills. A young Iksar blessed with talent beyond her years known throughout the Sebilisian Empire. I had been entertaining barons and officers with the same old collection of historical songs and tales of the Iksar nation for years; from Sebilis to Jinisk, Torsis to Charasis. When I had grown tired of those tales I looked toward the rest of Kunark. Over the next several years I trekked from one end of our isolated continent to the other learning tales of other societies and their myths. My native tongue was Sebilisian, like anyone born within the empire, but I learned enough common in these years in order to unlock stories from other cultures. But I was still young. A few stories of the drachnid learned here, a song about Chelsith there. I grew bored quickly, too quickly. Always believing the big song eluded me. Skorpikis, burynai, sarnak, Yha-Lei, even goblins. I was certain that I had heard all there was to hear and my catalog of songs and stories had become rather impressive, but I had been arrogant and foolish.

And fate was about to point this out to me. I had decided to embark upon a voyage the likes of which would enlighten me beyond my expectations. The seas surrounding the continent had calmed enough that a few ships were preparing to leave on exploring missions. They were hoping to reestablish the legendary trade routes that had existed prior to The Shattering. Upon hearing this, I raced to the docks of Danak, quick to volunteer my services as deckhand, lookout, whatever and wherever they might find me useful. It was not that I longed to be away from my hatch-mates or countrymen. Quite the opposite, I liked my place within society and had a great many lovers spread across the inns and guild houses of the empire. And I would miss them all, but the siren call of the unknown had called my name. I was powerless to avoid it. No, that’s not entirely true. I always tend to overstate the romantic. Truth is, I could have stayed in the lands of my ancestors, I just didn’t want to. There were new and exciting tales to sing across the great expanse of the Timorous Deep and I was determined to find them.

They did end up taking me on board and to my relief, it was not as anything so physically demanding as other jobs upon the Empress’ Journey. I had been taken aboard as the official recorder and map maker for the voyage. The task suited my talents rather naturally and the first few days upon the waves were exhilarating ones. I sung and played songs of travel upon my dulcimer to entertain my fellow shipmates. I even wrote a few, inspired as I was sailing upon Prexus’ ancient kingdom.

Several days out the waves proved to be quite a bit stronger than we expected. The ship was being battered from all sides, and many of us had become quite ashen, the color of our scales having been flushed from our bodies, along with our last few meals. The storm was tremendous, striking fear into some, determination into others. We lost the first few crewmen to Prexus’ wrath that day, but they would not be the last. The skies grew increasingly darker as the clouds piled upon one another, robbing us of Solus’ setting beauty as it tore mast from deck. Not even the glittering remains of Luclin were allowed to stand witness to our final moments as port and stern were torn asunder under the immense powers of the crashing waves. I remember the confusion and shock as I hit the frigid waters. Then as my body struggled to right itself, to find the sweet air to soothe my gasping lungs, my mind had been freed. It started to sing.

O bury me not in the deep, deep sea,