Minauros

Minauros, is a foul expanse of endless bogs, reeking marshes, and acid-choked rainstorms. The very air tastes of metal and rot, and the wind howls with a constant, mournful wail. The ground is treacherous—slimy peat and black mud give way without warning to sucking pits or pools of caustic water that burn flesh and corrode steel.   Towering above this poisoned mire are the cyclopean stone cities of the devils, their monolithic architecture jutting from the swamp like the spines of some vast, drowned beast. Yet even these bastions are not safe, each year, Minauros’ foundations sink deeper into the mire, forcing a constant and desperate effort to rebuild.   Minauros is a realm of relentless misery. Acid rain falls in sheets, mingling with sleet and hail to leave an oily film over the land. Volcanic ridges of black obsidian and jagged basalt rise like islands in the swamp, their surfaces slick with condensation. Luminescent mists swirl above the bogs, casting an eerie, shifting glow over the desolation.  

Notable Locations

Erebus, The Sinking City of Minauros

he largest city in Minauros and Mammon’s seat of power, Erebus is a vast fortress-market built on colossal stone platforms. It is in a state of perpetual decay, sinking into the swamp and forcing its denizens to rebuild it stone by stone. Slave labor and bound petitioners are sent on dangerous expeditions to volcanic ridges to harvest rock, only to watch it sink again within decades. Rumors persist of an even older city buried beneath Erebus’ foundations, a ruin from a forgotten age that Mammon forbids any to unearth. This is a metropolis on interlocked plates of brass and iron, chained to piles driven into the abyssal muck. Districts tilt as piles fail; entire neighborhoods are jacked level on screaming winches while business continues.  

Aeaea

One of the two realms of Hacate.  

The Mire Proper

Endless peat flats, sinkholes, tar-lagoons, and fuming calderas that belch acid fog. Black mangroves knit roots through rusted coins and helmets.  

The Crawling Vault

The Crawling Vaulr, also known as Mammon’s palace-fleet, are barges roofed in coin-scale tiles, halls lined with soul-ledgers and escrow reliquaries. The vault reconfigures as deals are struck; corridors close behind late payments.  

The Soul Mint

Foundry-temple where soul-ink is boiled and infernal coinage is struck. Hammers fall to the rhythm of a debtor’s heartbeat. Counterfeiting is punished by re-minting—of the counterfeiter.  

Jangling Hiter, the City of Chains

A rattling town suspended over the bog by a web of chains anchored to sunken towers. Trade in manacles, binding-runes, and exquisite restraints. Kyton artisans hold salons here (waivers optional, wisdom recommended).  

The Verdigris Causeway

A mile-wide trestle of riveted plates stretching to the horizon, sagging under caravans and chained vaults. Toll plazas every thousand paces; appeals office every ten thousand.  

The Counting-House of Worms

A courthouse-sump where writs of possession are adjudicated. Lose a case and the floor politely opens.  

Styx Pylons

Fortified docks where marraenoloths manifest receipts like mildew. Memory-tithes are assessed by weight of regret.  

Inhabitants

The swamps teem with devils suited to the brutal environment. Bearded devils enforce Mammon’s laws, chain devils guard fortresses and prisons, and spined devils patrol the skies in screeching flocks. Barbed devils serve as hunters, tracking petitioners who try to flee into the bog’s deadly expanse. The rest of the population consists of lemures and nupperibos, endlessly toiling until they dissolve into the mire.  

Other Devils

Phistophilus (advocates), osyluth (auditors), hamatula (tax marshals), barbazu (dock guards), cornugon (convoy captains), lemures by the barge-load.  

Adjuncts

Kyton ateliers in Jangling Hiter; night hag factors dealing futures; the occasional inevitable executing cross-plane judgments.  

Mortals

Brokers, appraisers, smugglers, “temporary residents” working off eternal debts.  

Access and Travel

From Dis

Freight platforms called Subsumed Gates lower cargo, prisoners, and ledgers straight into the mire (fees assessed per breath you take).  

Toward Phlegethos

Seared causeways vanish into heat-haze at the far margins; sanctioned convoys only.  

The River Styx

Broad, oily, and quiet here, its banks armored with plates of devil-forged brass. Ferries berth at taxed pylons; memories are itemized on arrival.

Acid Deluge

Minauros’ rain are acid and damaging all unattended metal and unprotected flesh. Licensed coverings reduce it to “merely unpleasant”.  

Greed’s Gravity

Every 1,000 gp (or equivalent) you carry feels like another encumbrance step. Secured, notarized vault-slips negate this… for a fee.  

Sinking Law

Any unattended structure sinks one inch per hour unless maintained with bribes of labor, spellwork, or tithed materials.  

Mire of Echoes

The bog whispers options you almost took, each a worse bargain than the last.  

Debt-Bloom

Brass lilies that sprout from buried coins; pluck one without paying and a lien devil appears with paperwork.

Temperatures swing wildly as some marshes are so cold that ice forms over acidic pools, while others are scalding hot from geothermal vents. Mud geysers erupt without warning, spraying boiling muck over the surrounding terrain. The swamp’s own tides shift unpredictably, swallowing entire structures into the mire overnight.