The Empire of Morghast dominates much of Loriath's second Western continent. From its capital city of Ironhold, Emperor Bohemund IV commands an expansive domain that, through conquest and diplomacy, has steadily expanded for centuries.
Emperor Bohemund IV is the ruler of the Empire of Morghast. From the storm-lashed northern coasts of Atragar to the dry southwestern plains, his empire is a political, economic and military powerhouse that has steadily expanded by either conquering its neighbors or beating them into submission to become client-states. From the capital of Ironhold he rules with a clenched fist and utter, uncompromising ruthlessness. Bohemund is a cunning politician, a skilled general and an able statesman who's been able to hold his own in the cutthroat game of Imperial politics for more than twenty-five years. He is a firm believer in the inherent superiority of everything Morghastian, and views outsiders, no matter their race, as inferior, backward barbarians over whom Morghast can and should rule. This arrogance, until recently, was not without cause; Morghast's armies are fearsome and incredibly disciplined and well-trained, and their use of gunpowder technology has allowed them to crush one foe after another.
The Emperor’s reign is absolute, and his word is law. Yet even he is not above the influence of the most powerful noble families, all of whom have considerable latitude to run their estates and local fiefdoms as they see fit, so long as the overall stability of the Empire is not affected and the Emperor's power is not challenged. They whisper in his ear, offering counsel, gifts, and sometimes, darker things, to sway his decisions. The Great Council of Dukes and Archdukes meets in Ironhold’s grand hall, a vast chamber of gleaming marble and gold where the Empire’s most critical matters are debated and decided. Here, alliances are formed, wars are plotted, and the fate of millions hangs in the balance as the great families of Morghast jockey for power. Imperial politics are cutthroat, a constantly-shifting, deadly dance of alliance, treachery and revenge where every gesture is scrutinized and every word weighed for its potential impact. Bohemund himself encourages this vicious infighting, believing that if the great houses are kept pitted against each other, there is no chance of them ever uniting to challenge him.
Imperial society is strictly and rigidly divided between the haves and the have-nots. The nobility, with their gleaming armor and opulent estates, rule over a populace that toils in the fields and factories, their faces often grimy with soot. This rigid social structure is strictly and harshly enforced and ascension up the social ladder is all but impossible. At the top sits Emperor Bohemund IV, a man known for his fierce gaze and iron will. His reign is marked by both a flourishing economy and a series of swift, bloody, decisive wars that have expanded the Empire's boundaries to the south and west. Beneath him are the classes of nobility, each of which occupy a specific tier of Imperial society. From highest to lowest, these nobles are grand duke, archduke, duke, landgrave, marquess, count, earl, and baron.
Below these are the commoners, who make up the vast majority of the Imperial population. Many commoners live as serfs, bound to the land of whichever noble holds their locality, with little hope for escape from the cycle of poverty and hard labor. Others live in cities and work in factories, smithies, or any one of a wide range of occupations, all while paying steep taxes to support the lifestyles of their social superiors and fund the Empire's wars of expansion. Military service is often sought as a means of escape and distinction on the battlefield is one of the few ways in which a young man might escape the confines of his birth, though this is extremely rare. Illiteracy is not just common but encouraged. The vast majority of the Imperial population receive only the most rudiementary education if they receive any at all, and schools are scarce and usually reserved for the sons and daughters of the elite. The barriers for anyone not of noble birth to rise through the ranks are as almost impenetrable.
Yet, even amidst this poverty, the citizens of Ironhold hold a fierce loyalty to Emperor Bohemund IV and the Empire. The imperial propaganda machine is a well-oiled juggernaut that has been turning for generations, and the common folk are taught from a young age that their lot in life is pre-ordained. To the Imperial aristocracy, the idea that "all men are created equal" is patently absurd. The notion that common people—the “unwashed masses”—can govern themselves, without the firm guidance of their betters, is not just ridiculous; it is a dangerous heresy that must be ruthlessly, relentlessly quashed. They view the sudden appearance of the United States, with its ideals of equality, freedom and liberty, with undisguised horror and disgust and consider such dangerous thoughts an existential threat to the very fabric of their civilization. More, they view the power of the United States, and its vast technological edge, as an unforgivable insult to the indisputable truth of Morghastian superiority and an affront to the natural order. They are bound and determined to bring this upstart nation to heel, to close the power gap, and to restore the world to what they see as its proper balance. Any talk of revolution or any idea that may threaten the established order is swiftly, brutally and often publicly silenced in Morghast. Those who speak of such things, or dare to overstep their bounds and forget their place in the social hierarchy, are punished without mercy. Public beheadings are common and usually overseen by the Emperor's feared secret police, known as simply as the Eyes. The Eyes operate a vast network of spies, informants and assassins across the Empire and ruthlessly suppress any hint of dissent. Their symbol, a fist clutching a sword with an eye in its center, instills dread in all who see it.
The Empire of Morghast is aggressive, expansionist and supremely arrogant. Its foreign policy is based upon the subjugation of other nations and the extraction and exploitation of natural resources to fuel its war machine. The Dryad Kingdom is its most recent target, but after almost thirty years of grinding, bitter conflict, the Dryads remain battered but unbroken. The Dryad Kingdom continues to ferociously resist the Empire's armies at every turn, to the continued fury of Emperor Bohemund and his court.
The Empire of Morghast has numerous resources that help provide grist for the mill of its continuous expansion. Huge deposits of coal and vast forests of timber, along with mines that churn out vast quantities of iron, copper, tin, and other metals provide the bedrock of its war machine. Silver extracted from massive mining operations provide the coin to pay its soldiers and large, navigable rivers allow it to transport troops and supplies relatively easily. Its rivers teem with fish and its vast agricultural complexes, worked by legions of peasants from dawn to dusk, churn out staggering amounts of grains, vegetables, and livestock. Its industrial base is large and only getting larger as the Empire embraces industrialization with zealous fervor. Its cities are perpetually shrouded in smoke from the stacks of its factories.
The Empire has a total population around twenty million people, with approximately one million belonging to the aristocracy and the rest making up the faceless ranks of the common folk, half of whom live and toil in the smog-choked cities and the other half toiling in crop fields across the Empire.
The Imperial military is the pride of the Empire. It is built around the doctrine of "pike and shot," or in other words, a combination of disciplined, armored pikemen, halberdiers, crossbowmen and musketeers supported by smoothbore cannon in the rear and flanked by wings of heavy and light cavalry. On the battlefield, the social strictures of the Empire are sternly observed; service in cavalry units is reserved solely for sons of the nobility, usually scions of lesser rank, and typically a man of great family--a duke, grand duke or archduke--will serve as overall commander. Discipline in the Imperial military is draconian and even small infractions are harshly punished, but it can at least be said that the Empire supplies its troops well; even the lowest commoner serving in the army can expect to be well-fed from the Empire's formidable logistics network, and if they survive their term of service, they may receive a small plot of land to farm under some liege-lord or other and a modest sum of money as a reward.
It can also be said that for all their snobbery, arrogance and casual cruelty toward those they see as beneath them, the Imperial nobility are not cowards. It is expected, even demanded, for an aristocrat to lead his men into battle and set an example to his inferiors. Those in command of Imperial forces customarily lead the charge into the teeth of whatever enemy they are facing. The sight of an archduke or other high-ranking aristocrat leading from the front, always atop a fine steed and typically clad in gleaming, highly-ornate plate armor and armed with the very finest weaponry, is always a sight to stir a lowly commoner's heart. The average Imperial infantrymen's kit consists of a steel helmet, gauntlets, greaves, and a mail shirt, under which is worn the standard black-and-navy livery of the Imperial banner. Musketeers are armed with a smoothbore wooden musket that, with proper training and discipline, can be fired once every thirty seconds with an accurate range of three hundred yards. Pikemen are equipped with fifteen-foot long pikes made of sturdy oak tipped with a wicked steel point, capable of holding the line against charging cavalry and serving as a wall of steel in the face of the enemy's advances. Halberdiers are armed with, of course, halberds: versatile polearms consisting of long shaft with an axe blade, a long curved spike, and a spear at the top. These fearsome weapons are a terror to infantry and cavalry alike, able to skewer footmen and horses with equal ease and yank riders out of the saddle.
Crossbowmen are equipped with heavy crossbows that can shoot bolts through even the strongest steel plate at a hundred paces, though they require significant time to reload. However, should an Imperial soldier lose his primary weapon, he is also armed with a falchion, dagger and at least one pistol and ten shots as a reserve.
Above the infantry, as befitting their place on the social ladder, are the heavy and light cavalry. Heavy Imperial cavalry is made up of knights, clad in full plate armor and wielding lances, maces, warhammers, and more recently, long cavalry pistols that can deliver volleys of deadly fire as they close with the enemy not atop massive warhorses, but astride deadly karkadann mounts. These creatures are a curious mix of horse, rhino and unicorn: huge in size and sporting deadly horns on their heads, they are bred and trained from birth for war. Their thick hides that serve as natural armor, and their fearlessness in battle is as legendary as their endurance. Karkadanns can absorb an incredible amount of punishment and still keep going, and are so beloved by the Imperial military that they have become a symbol of the Empire itself. Even the Imperial banner sports a crowned karkadann rampant on a field of checkered black and navy blue. The sight of Imperial heavy cavalry at full charge is awe-inspiring: they thunder across the battlefield encased in gleaming suits of gilded or enameled steel, their helmets adorned with brightly-colored feathers as the banners of dozens of noble families flutter in the wind.
The light cavalry, meanwhile, consists of lancers and archers atop fast ponies; swift and nimble, they serve as the eyes and ears of the army, harassing enemies and scouting for information as well as employing hit-and-run tactics to devastating effect. These units are primarily composed of the younger, less affluent sons of nobility, eager to prove themselves worthy of their titles and inheritance and claim glory for themselves and their houses.
The cavalry and infantry are supported by the Empire's formidable artillery train. The standard Imperial cannon is a smoothbore gun capable of firing a 24-pound iron ball up to 1,800 yards. Each cannon is pulled into position by a team of six oxen and requires a crew of twelve to swab, load, aim, and fire, though larger guns may require even more. A trained gun crew can fire up to three rounds a minute and Imperial gunners often compete fiercely with each other to achieve the fastest reload times. Cannons are usually mounted on wooden carriages painted in the same black-and-navy checkered pattern as the rest of the military equipment, though some of the wealthier nobility have been known to commission gold-leafed or even jewel-encrusted carriages for their personal artillery pieces. The cannon are arranged in tightly packed batteries that can lay down a withering barrage on enemy positions, though they are vulnerable to attack from the flanks and rear, necessitating the use of cavalry and skirmishers to protect the gunners as they go about their deadly work. Lighter, smaller cannon designed for maneuverability can be quickly moved around the battlefield by teams of horses, providing close support to the advancing troops and disrupting enemy formations with their explosive shells and grapeshot.
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The Imperial Navy is also highly disciplined and organized. Its ships still rely on sail power, but recently its naval forces have undergone extensive refitting and now sport paddlewheels and engines powered by steam or coal to give them greater range, power, and maneuverability. These vessels are used to patrol the vast coastline of the continent and protect trade routes as well as enforce stability across the Empire's far-flung domain. Here, too, the strict hierarchy of Imperial society is religiously observed. Common men fill out the lower ranks while the officer class is reserved solely for those with the proper pedigree. Discipline is, if anything, even harsher than that in the army and flogging is the standard punishment for most infractions. The Imperial armada is a mighty sight, its ships bristling with guns and banners fluttering from every masthead as it sails in precise, almost mechanical, formation.
The Empire's approach to magic is also brutally straightforward. The use of magic by commoners, for any reason, is punishable by immediate death and any peasant or serf found to have magical ability is summarily hunted down by the Eyes and executed to prevent magic from being used to upset or challenge the established order. Only the nobility are allowed to wield magic, and many aristocratic houses boast of famous battlemages who hail from their bloodline. The Imperial capital of Ironhold is home to the Empire's College of Magic, where sons and daughters of the nobility are trained to harness their gifts for the glory of the Empire. On the battlefield, Imperial mages are a force to be reckoned with, calling down storms of fire and lightning to lay waste to everything around them. Compared to the refined magical arts of other races, such as the High Elves, the techniques and spells employed by the Empire are crude and brutish. But the Imperials care little for the opinion of the so-called elder races. Morghastian battlemages get the job done, and that is all the Empire requires.
The Empire of Morghast has an industrial level similiar to early modern Europe, though with considerably more resources at its beck and call. It commands enormous reserves of coal, iron and other minerals, and its great timber forests provide an almost bottomless supply of fresh timber. Its military forces use edged weapons in combination with gunpowder arms like cannons and smoothbore muskets, and has begun to employ steam and coal-powered technology on a wide scale. Almost all of its technological progress has been fueled by its hunger for conquest. Innovations that might improve the lot of its citizens or allow commoners a better quality of life are frowned upon or even, in some instances, outright suppressed.
The Empire of Morghast has no established religion. However, the cult of personality around the Emperor and the propaganda fed to its citizens can be viewed as a kind of religion.
The Empire's dealings with foreign nations are characterized by its overweening arrogance. It views all others as inherently inferior and believes it is the Empire's right to rule over and exploit them. As such, its communications with outside powers are almost always sneering, condescending, and even downright insulting. It makes no attempt to justify or find a cassus belli for its wars of expansion; to the Empire, its inherent superiority is reason enough for it to conquer and subjugate. The conduct of its soldiers reflects this attitude. Morghastian troops routinely brutalize civilians in occupied or disputed territories, and cities taken by siege are savagely pillaged and their populations slaughtered or forced into servitude as a matter of course. Following a successful campaign of conquest, a territory is carved up among the ranking nobles in charge of the campaign and they are given the task of assimilating their new fiefdorms into the Imperial fold. This is done a number of different ways. Non-human or demi-human populations are usually exterminated through genocidal campaigns and replaced with Morghastian peasants, while in areas populated by humans, Imperial policy is to eliminate the previous ruling class entirely to ensure no legitimate opposition can arise to contest Imperial authority. Fortresses are built in strategic locations to control the countryside and garrisons are installed in every major city to keep order and put down potential revolts, while the Eyes install spies at every level.
Yet, even as it bullies its neighbors into submission, the Empire is ever vigilant for signs of weakness or dissent that could be pose a threat to its expansionist goals. The Eyes are notoriously brutal and even the faintest whiff of sedition in the Empire is met with swift and merciless retribution. Thought-crimes are as real in Morghast as physical acts of rebellion, and the Eyes are ever ready to silence anyone deemed a threat to the established order. More, the Eyes also operate in foreign lands. In every realm they work to sow chaos engage in assassination, espionage and blackmail with equal skill to weaken other nations and ripen them for potential conquest.
The Morghastian justice system is notorious for its swiftness and severity, especially when it comes to crimes against the nobility. To interrupt one’s better when they are speaking is to invite a public flogging. To steal from a nobleman’s estates is to condemn oneself to hard penal labor in one of the Empire’s outlying provinces, a slow death sentence that few survive. To dare raise one’s hand against a member of the aristocracy, even in self-defense, is to invite the full wrath of the Eyes and the certainty of a grisly public execution—by beheading if one is lucky, but being burned at the stake, crucified, or flayed alive are not uncommon fates for those who dare challenge the social order. Lesser crimes, such as theft or assault among commoners, are typically dealt with by the local lord or magistrate, often with equally brutal punishments. The nobility, of course, are not subject to the same laws; they typically settle their disputes amongst each other with honor duels, and crimes committed against commoners are almost never punished unless it suits the political purposes of a noble’s enemies or rivals.
The Empire's economy combines agrarianism with early industrialism reminiscent of late 18th and early 19th century Europe. It is a place where horse-drawn carriages canter down cobblestone streets as growing factories, powered by watermills, steam, coal or some combination of all three, churn out increasing quantities of steel, textiles, and other goods while smoke belches from their smokestacks. The Empire's agricultural and industrial sectors are the twin engines that keep it running . The fertile fields of the Eastlands, worked by the sweat and blood of the serfs, produce bountiful crops that feed the ever-growing legions. It is here that some of the largest estates and provinces controlled by the nobility are located, and life as an agricultural serf is one of endless toil and servitude. Hundreds, sometimes even thousands, of men and women labor in the fields from dawn to dusk to produce the vast quantities of wheat, barley and oats that sustain the Empire's population and its churning war machine. Their lives are dictated by the seasons and the whims of their landowners, with little to no respite from their backbreaking work.
For commoners employed in the industrial sector, life in a Morghastian city is no less grueling and just as oppressive. They live cheek-by-jowl in cramped, squalid tenement buildings and the air in the cities is thick with the acrid smell of burning coal. The factories, smelters and mills are the Empire's beating heart, pumping out enormous amounts of steel, gunpowder, textiles, weapons, and other things needed to fuel the Imperial military and feed the ambitions of its ruling class. In these industrial hells of boiling steam, suffocating heat, deafening noise and choking smoke, children as young as five often work alongside their parents to meet the production quotas dictated by the aristocracy. There are few, if any, provisions made for the safety of these downtrodden workers. Accidents are frequent and the results horrific. The risk of falling into a smelting vat of molten iron, losing a limb to a malfunctioning loom, succumbing to lethal respiratory diseases or being crushed to bloody pulp between grinding metal gears is ever-present.
Yet, despite the horrors, fear of the Eyes and the need to feed their families keep the laborers in line. More, Imperial indoctrination has cultivated a sense of pride among the laborers in contributing to the might of the Empire--something the ruling class seeks to exploit and strengthen whenever possible. The Empire's wealth is built upon a foundation of suffering and sacrifice, the likes of which are invisible to those who enjoy the fruits of the commoners' toil. Most Imperial aristocrats are more troubled by the loss of a favorite horse or dog than by the deaths of dozens of peasants in a gruesome industrial accident.
The Empire's trade policy is one of strict mercantilism, in which it aims to maximize economic gain by controlling colonial trade with and between its various provinces, protectorates and conquered territories, restricts imports from other nations, and forces its people to primarily trade with and use products made within its own borders. Taxes on commoners are extremely high--both in order to maximize revenue and make social mobility all but impossible.
The nobility and ruling class of the Empire receive the best education available and often hire tutors from around the world. However, the rest of the Imperial population is deliberately kept as ignorant as possible as a less educated people are less likely to rebel. Commoners who require any type of specialized knowledge to perform their duty are given only the barest minimum of what they need, and many of them have no formal education at all. Books are a luxury enjoyed by the elite while schools for commoners are almost unheard of.
The Empire pays great attention to its military infrastructure and the fortifications around its major cities, military installations and other places of strategic importance are the product of generations of military expertise. However, the Empire pays only the most minimal attention to infrastructure that might help improve of the lives of its common citizens. One exception is the network of excellent aqueducts and sewers in its cities. Sanitation is rigidly maintained—not necessarily for the good of the people but because outbreaks of disease are detrimental to Imperial industries and war efforts. Major roads are also well-maintained, but they are used mainly by the military and the nobility. Commoners usually lack the means to travel far from their place of residence, and those who do have the means must acquire the permission of the Morghastian Imperial authorities first. Such permission, of course, is rarely given.
The Morghastian currency is called a "Crown" and, like a Spanish piece of eight, can be broken apart into equally-sized pieces to make change. Crowns are usually made of silver, which is abundantly mined in the Empire's eastern mountains.
As with imports, the Empire has few exports. Almost everything it produces is sold and used domestically due to its strict policy of mercantilism and those found violating this policy are harshly, publicly and often gruesomely punished.
The Empire of Morghast has few trade relations. It views trade without outsiders as a sign of weakness and would much rather simply take whatever it needs or wants rather than bargain with "inferiors" to get it. Its mercantile policy and vast resources make it mostly self-sufficient in terms of food production, and it is able to outfit its armies domestically using its growing industrial might. What trade the Empire does engage in is usually on behalf of the aristocracy, who delight in flaunting expensive luxury goods from places like the Glittering Isles or Ti-Amatu as a display of wealth.
The Empire has no designated legislative body. Bohemund IV rules as an absolute monarch with the advice of his court, which he listens to or ignores as he sees fit. The great noble families may try to counsel him, but when he makes a decision, it is inviolate and final.
Typically, judicial cases and criminal prosecutions are dealt with by whatever lord or noble is in charge of the area. Depending on the social rank and class of the lord in question, he may judge the case himself or use a proxy to render decisions in his stead. Magistrates are often appointed for this purpose and are usually given wide discretion to judge cases however they see fit. Most lords, particularly those who make up the highest tier of Imperial nobility, believe hearing cases and rendering judgment is beneath their dignity; to them, it is grubby work, a waste of time that could be better spent on matters of state or personal amusement.
The Imperial capital of Ironhold is a bastion of grime and splendor where the palaces and mansions of the nobility gleam and sparkle as factories and mills spew columns of thick dark smoke into the sky. The city sits on seven great tiers that reflect the rigid structure of Imperial society: the highest tier is home to the Imperial palace and the vast majority of the Empire’s administrative, religious, and military institutions. The tier below is the exclusive residence of the some of the most powerful noble families, and so on. In the lowest tiers, the poorest commoners live in wretched squalor, packed into narrow, winding streets with little natural light and ventilation and even less hope of escape or advancement. Crime is rampant here, and the watchmen, what few there are, are often as much a part of the problem as they are the solution. Yet, even amidst this poverty, the citizens of Ironhold hold a fierce loyalty to Emperor Bohemund IV and the Empire. The imperial propaganda machine is a well-oiled juggernaut that has been turning for generations, and the common folk are taught from a young age that their lot in life is pre-ordained. Illiteracy is not just common but encouraged; commoners are heavily pressured from getting anything but the most basic education, and schools are scarce and usually reserved for the elite. The barriers for anyone not of noble birth to rise through the ranks are as high and as thick as the city’s own defensive walls.
