Gog is many things

A land. A city. A man. A promise to some, a threat to ohters.

Under the burning sun lies crimson Gog. Home to the proud Magog race, built upon cyclopean ruins of forgotten times, named after its founder and legendary king.

It is a big city – perhaps the biggest gracing this forlorn world -, drinking from lake Hali, lifebringer to the deserts and mountains of the great highlands.

Shining metal walls, flawlessly smooth and cold to the touch in hottest summer, encircle towers of red earth and iron that compete for light and the touch of the seven heavens. Gilded temples of all gods bring honour to the city, fierce and strong are her legions.

From his lofty palace in the city’s heart the great king watches unseen, the Šar Ušumgal, immortal ruler of  the dragon banner, undying sentinel and protector since the day the Magog conquered these lands. He had raised them from exile and nothingness, gave them life and lordship over the sub-human peoples of the Paruti, the Gubi, the Ullak, brought sword to the Gullgaea, the Arraqu and Njema. All the world sings his praise, his glory unmatched.

Legend has it he was a lover to Šarrit, goddes of war, love and pain. Kothar-Hasis, the god-smith, and Girra of the Flames bestowed him with the black sword Hope, the death of all his foes.

Abaddun, the prevailing stone, keeps the holy order. In the desert Nergal rules, the mercieless wind, father of Wolf, Hyena, and other mythical beasts.

The land of Gog is truly blessed.

After Gog created civilization, other cities emerged like mushrooms from the ground.  At the source of the cloud-filled Rift that cleaves the highland in twain, where the Rift-river Larr springs from a hundred mountain rivers, industrious Qutta lies. Paruti slaves shed sweat and blood for their red-skinned masters in the marble quarries so as to greaten the glory of the gods with ever new monuments.

In Dur-Dannukin, guardian of the three times a thousand step long bridge over the rift, the Keepers of Abaddun created a fortress of purity and faith.

In the eastern desert Dumaj – blessed with strong sources and natural fountains – wrestles with the horrors of the swamps and the Horned Seer in his tower.

Yet even in Gog, city of clay and iron, shadows spread. The magic of the ancients, of snakes and spiders and the gods before the gods, wakes sleeping perils. Madness lurks in Gog, the madness that threatens to consume the world. In bloody rituals beings are called forth, defying all descriptions; beings for which their would-be masters are but cruel, yet inconsequential parasites, their chains soon to be shed and broken. Still the bulwark of order stands strong, but its wall are being stripped brick by brick.

Yet there is more. The world doesn’t end at the walls of the great cities. Amidst of all the wastelands, the deserts and steppes and mountains, wonders await courageous discovery. Young warriors with iron sword and hatchet of carven stone plunder tombs of forgotten races, metal skeletons of long-dead cities and witnesses of impossible past. Magic lies there, guarded by terrible plagues. A brave man with the necessary skill might find fortune – or an early grave far from home.

Yet not only adventurers venture forth into the unknown. Witchers seek the knowledge of the snakes to hold sway over the creatures of the abyss. What dangers will they bring the people, unknowing or uncaring what it is they’re setting unleashing?

Outside the borders whole peoples break free, questioning the claims and the law of Magog rule. War is in all minds. The lords grow restless, open revolts plague the land. The only answer they can think of: draconic punishments for all agitators and seditionists, for the secret police of the Šar Ušumgal will suffer no treason. But can it cure a malady that has long befallen the whole body?

Gog was many things. A rebellion against a cruel fate. The dream of a traitor, loyal to his people.

A game in the sea of times. A stone on a cruel scale. A borrowed epoch. The saving of one mankind, end to another.

For a thousand years it gleamed. Now the scales are trembling, the sand is trickling away.

Two sides take up arms for the last battle.

As too many times before.