Skip to main content

[FICTION] The Geography of Naxos: The Leoi Lands / The Barony of Mykonos

     The ancestral homelands of the Leoi, the island of Mykonos is a dramatic landscape of expansive rolling grasslands, lush jungle, and sharp grey peaks overlooking the sea.

    The only permanent settlement, O Protos, lies on the north shore, where the plains meet the sea. This "city" exists as a complex to house the Baron of Mykonos, and to host the visiting bands when they visit, or at the annual meeting when the various leaina decide matters for all Leoi.

    The plains of Mykonos, ironically, are some of the most fertile farmland anywhere in the Duchy, which for strict carnivores such as the Leoi who subsist off of hunting, fishing, and very limited herding, does little good. As such, these rich grasslands remain largely undisturbed. 

    To the western portions of the island is a track of jungle; unlike other islands, these trees hold religious significance to the Leoi, as only leaina may enter as part of their coming-of-age rituals, or during certain lunar events. 

    To the east sharp grey stone mountains hug the Sea of Kitaigida. They are rich in silver and precious gems, which the leaina allow limited mining of by outside Naxians who have sworn to not damage the surrounding lands.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

[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 babies are dead, and besides, no one cou
4 comments
Read more

[Guest Writer] Rain, Again by Charlena Kea

  Uncle, it is happening again. The rain has come. I have spent thousands of nights praying that the world would realize something when they pulled your small body from the river. How delicate life is. How precious. How it floats and swells and then vanishes in even the gentlest currents. I prayed you would be more than a forgotten proverb. In a story about big men in faraway places. Their empty fists and uncalloused fingertips meeting tabletops unscathed. And the rain falling faithfully in turn. They say they are here to protect us. That we are safe behind a blinding cloud of rubble and the dust of month-old bones. But I always wonder why they did not protect you; my most precious kin. I wonder what it is that must be offered to deserve their protection. Because your fluttering pulse and brand new eyes for an old and broken world were not enough. A child’s body and a child’s heart is not enough. They didn’t protect you when the squall of fire and metal touched down on the land tha
2 comments
Read more

[FICTION] Tales from Port Astor | Sepulcher

 This is part three, and the finale, of this year's mini series! You can read part two here .                Anton dropped his bag down the shaft. After jimmying the outside doors, evading city employees and security, and going in a general downward direction, he had found it; the Plague Tunnels of Port Astor. He then dropped down himself, kicking up dust that hasn’t seen the light of day in nearly a century. Anton turned on his headlamp, which only stubbornly obliged. It revealed where he was; in the alley way between two buildings. As he stepped out into the forgotten street, he could make out one of the ancient signs; “ARTHUR’S IMPORTS & RARE BOOKS”. He cleared some of the dust from the window, which hung in the heavy air.                 He shined a light into the store, and as he did, an immense clamor was heard from within. Anton jumped back, and would have screamed if he hadn’t stifled it. He was, after all, trespassing. The shop door was still in place, and secured wi
Post a Comment
Read more