Lankhmar (LAYNK marr)

First Impressions Lankhmar is richly described as a populous and labyrinthine city rife with corruption, "the City of the Black Toga." It is decadent or squalid in roughly equal parts and said to be so shrouded by smog that the stars are rarely sighted (the city's alternate name is "the City of Sevenscore Thousand Smokes"). Located next to the Inner Sea, Lankhmar is visited by ships from across Nehwon and is the center of nearly all trading routes.   The city is ostensibly ruled by an Overlord and his nobility. The Thieves' Guild is influential, too, and controls Lankhmar's abundant criminal element.   Streets in Lankhmar are often evocatively named (e.g. the Thieves' Guild is located on Cheap Street near Death's Alley and Murder Alley). Commonly referenced locations are the Silver Eel Tavern, behind which is Bone Alley, and the Golden Lamprey Inn. The religious center of Lankhmar is the Street of the Gods (the Gods in Lankhmar), along which numerous (and often bizarre) cults seek to arrange themselves in order of popularity. The true gods of Lankhmar, however, are feared rather than worshipped. These "Black Bones" (mummified ancestors of the Lankhmarian) occasionally leave their temple and battle threats to the city—or threats to their own position as the preeminent religion within Lankhmar.   It is rumored that beneath Lankhmar is an underground city inhabited by sentient rats.   A visitor standing outside the massive walls of the Imperishable City glimpses a sight akin to a great beast lumbering on a riverbank. Crenulated walls fashioned from ancient, massive stones surround the city, caging in its riot of buildings and teeming populace. Rising above the walls, the visitor sees spires, towers, minarets, garrets, and high-pitched rooftops forming a jagged silhouette against the sky. These structures cluster together like copses of trees, being most noticeable in the northern expanse of the city where the Street of the Gods and its many fanes run close to the minaret-crowned Rainbow Palace and redoubtable fortress of the Citadel. Philosophers’ garrets and astrologers’ towers line the Street of the Thinkers to the south of the Street of the Gods, further adding to the aerial growths. The skyline drops lower as one turns his gaze south, but even in these low-lying areas of the city, the rooftops of tenements, grain silos, and the odd and ancient forbidden temple can be glimpsed.   The air above Lankhmar is black with smoke from countless chimneys, forges, charnel pits, garbage pits, incense censers, crucibles, and so forth. This pollution is further darkened by the regular river fogs and sea mists that roll over the city when the sun plunges towards the horizon. It is little wonder that Lankhmar is also known as the City of Sevenscore Thousand Smokes and that the color black is the official hue of its nobility and civic forces. Inside the city walls, the streets wind crookedly in many places, the surrounding buildings seeming to lean drunkenly across the thoroughfares, often turning the city’s many alleyways gloomy with shade even at high noon.   The roads, depending in which quarter one finds himself, are paved with ancient stones, tiled with ceramic bricks mortared with brass, lined with uneven cobbles, or simply expanses of filthy, stinking mud that seldom dries. Whatever their makeup, the streets of Lankhmar are never empty during the daytime; each is awash with humanity, livestock, wagons, carts, palanquins, horses, mules, and even stranger beasts, as its inhabitants strive to earn enough smerduks to survive another day. Like a beast, Lankhmar is ever-hungry, consuming without appeasement the contents of innumerable wagons, ships, caravans, trader’s packs, and smuggler’s bags. It also seems to possess a hunger for lives and not a morning passes without the sound of the Death Cart’s bell being heard in the streets, calling out for and collecting the dead of the previous evening. Lankhmar is a place where, as the Northern barbarian, Fafhrd, once observed, all adventurers, either big or small, have their beginnings.   The city, with its excitement, riches, and dangers, sings a siren song that draws would-be adventurers from nearly every land in Nehwon. Many disappear into the city’s underbelly, never to be heard from again. A few, however, write their names in the annals of Nehwon’s history.   The City Districts A narrow, tortuously winding alleyway debouches onto a crowded avenue. Merchants hawk their goods to any who will lis­ ten, and to a number who would rather not listen. Traffic, mostly pedestrian but including an occasional horse or a wagon drawn by plodding oxen, fills the road like a babbling stream.   You pass among the shops and stalls, dodging the clutching fingers of eager merchants. Strange odors of exotic spices and bizarre incenses fill the air. The noise constantly assaults you at a tumultuous level.   You turn a corner, and the clamor of commerce fades into the distance. Now the droning of chants fills the air. Folk in a variety of strange dress beseech the passersby to partake of the delights promised by any number of religions and cults. Indeed, virtually any imaginable god can find worshippers along these crowded blocks.   You walk further, and the air changes again, now carrying the scent of murky river water only slightly freshened by a salty breeze. The smells of fish and smoke join to dominate all other scents as you pass among the towering grain silos and crowded warehouses. The cursing of dockworkers, loading and unloading a dozen galleys and river barges, punctuates the background of city sounds.   A turn to The North takes you to the luxurious, tree-dappled estates of the wealthy and noble-born. It is possible to forget, for a time, that not far off steams acrowded ghetto as disease-infested and poverty-stricken as any in the world.   This is Lankhmar, City of Adventure, in all its glory. Rich, poor, religious, debased-all of these and more can be found here.   It all depends on where you look.