Skip to main content

[FICTION] The Geography of Naxos: Keros

     Once the site of the first human habitation in the islands, Keros was blasted into a craggy wasteland at the start of the Tauromachy. Today, the only people who live here all year is the garrison and staff of Alasiofos, the training fortress and headquarters of the Naxian Marines & Navy.

    Alasiofos' main citadel lies atop the seaward cliffs, fortified with magic to prevent collapse. The citadel itself is divided between the two forces, and both have been tailored to the needs of each. The complex itself is labyrinthian in size and complexity of navigation.

    Beyond the walls, Keros supports next to nothing that would be called life. Indeed, the terrain is so unforgiving that as part of final testing, Naxian marines must survive a fortnight as a unit out in the wastes, living being the only standard of success.

    The "Baron" of Keros is the title given to who ever is assigned as the master of Alasiofos, and does not have voting powers on the Despot Council, instead acting as an advisor to both the Duke and Council.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

[GUEST WRITER] Healer/Weapon by Nico

  General content warning: This is a piece about the crossroads of our current socio-political landscape, through the lens of the author’s upbringing and life experience.  Mentions of emotional and physical abuse, rape, religious trauma, gun violence, school shootings, racism & hate crimes, and others. Topics and themes touched on are handled respectfully, but told unflinchingly.                                         W H e a l e r       p              o                      n It’s 2005. I am being raised to be a weapon.  I’m ten, or so. They split the boys and the girls off...

[Guest Writer] Gemini by Brian Rydquist

Editor's Note: This is a content warning for those sensitive to certain topics; self-harm, child loss, graphic descriptions of violence.            Sylvia bent over the lifeless bodies of the newborn infants she had just spent six hellish hours delivering. Screams of anguish poured from her diaphragm, blood soaked her nightgown from the waist down. Her husband William knelt beside her, stroking her shoulder in a futile attempt at comfort. The midwife, an elderly Inuit woman, knelt on her otherside. “Please miss,  you must lay down. Your body has suffered incredible stress, the birth was not a good one.” “My babies, my babies, this can’t be!” Sylvia shrieked, deaf to the woman’s words. “Shh, shh,” William was muttering as he rubbed her shoulders. “Maybe it won’t be, I have already sent for the spirit leader of my tribe. He should arrive any moment.” “Don’t be a fool! How dare you give my wife this false hope! You can clearly see the babie...

[GUEST WRITER] Sandstone Legs, By Charlena Kea

sandstone legs high tunnel fog in October my mind feels far away chicken kisses in the AM I still think of you everyday just another farm girl's wishes now can you keep my winter crops warm? I'm thinking of cold blood and cracked skulls sunberry stains on my right forearm your cattle line the streets there still waiting for my passage by school explosion on the drive home half legs around the bomb stove fire just a cluster of red dots to all of them I hope one day they'll see pawns and prey and bugs alike maybe it's all we'll ever be I'm just the same as you, though soft heart but iron bones incense smoke lures me closer I'm scraped pure on sandy stones deafening when I see them hanging these hollow iron shells they let your kin bleed out there damned the rest to living hell I'll wade through murky river depths please wash my red hands clean I'm desperate, I beg you every night erase these things we've seen my likeness sells postcards on the road...