《Slums》 Slums #1
Slums #1
(This story takes place in the Tormenta setting. For more information about Tormenta, check the glossary at the end of the story.) Ah, Valkaria, a city of everything and everyone, where you¡¯ll find humans, elves, and whatever else you can imagine living in perfect harmony and prosperity¡­ Oh, how wonderful it would be if that were true. On closer inspection, you¡¯ll see that harmony isn¡¯t for everyone, and prosperity is only for a few. I have heard bards tell stories of heroes who could move mountains, I have read about archmages who could destroy a village with the snap of their fingers, and even about druids who have done so. But this tale is not about a warrior capable of facing battalions, nor about a paladin able to slay dragons. This humble scribe who writes to you holds no such power. I am just a goblin with modest magical abilities. I will not recount epic adventures around the world here. If that is what you seek, this tome is probably not for you. I will write only about my life as an adult in the Goblin Slums. This account aims to clear up misconceptions about me, particularly the misunderstanding that led to the great conflict with the criminals of the Blasanov House. If I had anything out of the ordinary, it was those who guided me throughout my life. My parents taught me the trade and shaped my character. Lord Niebling sharpened my taste for innovation and took me as his apprentice after the tragic passing of my parents. And the Arcane Academy instructed me in the magical arts. With these three pillars, I built my life.
You know what a human thinks when they see a goblin on the streets of Valkaria? ¡°Oh, look, a pickpocket.¡± A reputation steeped in prejudice that we always have to deal with. I play it straight. My parents, as I said, were merchants. And on top of that, they were devotees of Tibar, the God of Commerce. Since I was a kid, I¡¯ve learned not to take more than what¡¯s fair, and not to accept less either. If something isn¡¯t the result of my work, I won¡¯t accept it, just as I won¡¯t accept a work that doesn¡¯t come with fair pay. That kind of thing makes me sick to my stomach. We lived in the Slums, but let me tell you, my parents were very successful merchants, owners of a tools and gadgets shop in Happiness Refuge, an affluent neighborhood in Valkaria. They had a solid clientele, but there were always pompous humans saying things like, ¡°A goblin selling in our neighborhood! What¡¯s next?¡± Even as a kid, that kind of talk pissed me off in ways I can¡¯t even put into words, but my parents would always say, ¡°Let it go, let it go¡­¡± Sure, Mom and Dad, sure. Then, one day, thieves broke into our shop. Thieves who, guess what, were humans. Even though my parents followed every order, those bastards beat us just for being goblins. As if stealing everything valuable wasn¡¯t enough, they set the shop on fire and were about to kill us. My parents sacrificed themselves so I could escape with my life. I started wandering alone and aimlessly through a neighborhood that despised me simply for being who I was. Yes, I hate thieves. I hate being compared to thieves. What¡¯s right for right, what¡¯s fair for fair. You think that¡¯s when my life went to hell? You¡¯re wrong! After that, I pulled myself together and got my life back on track in a way that my parents, as soft as they were, would¡¯ve burst with pride if they were still alive.
As I wandered, lost and disoriented by what had just happened, none other than Lord Niebling appeared before me. Niebling is known as the only gnome in the world of Arton. He¡¯s one hell of a smart little guy. Calling him smart is an understatement?¡ª?he¡¯s a genius. His brilliance earned him influence at the Court of Deheon, the Capital Kingdom, and now he resides in the Imperial Palace of Valkaria. If you ask me, he¡¯s a bit odd. But I think that oddness comes hand in hand with genius. One of his oddnesses?¡ª?at least it¡¯s odd to the capital¡¯s folks?¡ª?is that he takes responsibility for, cares for, and lives alongside orphaned goblins he feels for. Rumor has it he has a soft spot for our inventive spirit and boldness. By the way, Niebling¡¯s full name is Nieblingscharphittlestonefingeralonefauchard. It¡¯s pronounced just as it¡¯s written. I know you were about to skip over it without reading the whole thing, you rascal. In this sort of second home?¡ª?or orphanage, or whatever the hell you want to call it?¡ª?Niebling gathered several goblins and taught us the art of mechanics. That¡¯s where I met the twins Gobby and Dobby, who would go on to become my main partners?¡ª?two goblins who were pretty odd, and by that I mean, of course, geniuses. I grew fond of inventions, gadgets, and creations in general. Those were moments of great fun that helped ease the pain of loss for everyone there. But Niebling noticed something peculiar about me: my magical aptitude. The awakening of magical powers isn¡¯t very common among goblins. Niebling thought it would be a waste for me not to make use of this gift, so he pulled some strings to get me into the great Arcane Academy, a place where those who wish to master the magical arts are taught. That¡¯s where the third chapter of my life would begin. The Arcane Academy is vast and comprehensive, with room for all kinds of mages?¡ª?from the mighty fire mages to the more-than-suspicious necromancers. My thing, however, was alchemy and artifice. My main instructor on this journey was Geofilus, the professor of earth magic. I learned a lot about artificer spells, although, I must confess, my magical prowess is somewhat below that of a true artificer. I told you I¡¯m no archmage, didn¡¯t I? Creating magical items is one of the toughest things in the world of magic. But I can assist in creation rituals. I may not be very powerful, but when it comes to knowledge, I hold my ground. The academic period was very productive. My main research during that time focused on Wynna stones. A mineral similar to mana essence potions, capable of restoring personal energy, with the added benefit of being rechargeable with magical energy for reuse. They say they¡¯re stones from a mountain in the Kingdom of Wynna, the Goddess of Magic, brought to this world by a magical explosion. Who knows if that¡¯s true?¡ª?people also say money doesn¡¯t bring happiness, but I¡¯m damn happy when I make some cash. After this period, came the fourth chapter of my life: the time to stop relying on others and get some shame in my face, at least to support myself. I returned to the Goblin Slums. I know it¡¯s a clich¨¦, but it¡¯s true?¡ª?the goblin can leave the slums, but the slums never leave the goblin. Even though I had good moments in other places, that¡¯s where I felt at home. I opened a workshop for gadgets and magical products, and for that, I invited Gobby and Dobby, who, oddly enough, accepted right away, without hesitation. Like I said, oddness comes with genius, and those bastards were two geniuses. I made alchemical products, the twins made gadgets. And if money brings happiness, let¡¯s just say we managed to be damn happy in that work. Magitec, as we called our workshop, quickly reached a good level of sales. Then I focused on finding the edge we were looking for: combining mechanical inventions with magic, developing mechanomancy. And with that, I¡¯ll tell you how my life became one hell of a mess.
The Goblin Slums are fantastic. We support and help each other as best we can, within our limitations. But there¡¯s also a darker side to the Slums: it¡¯s the main hub for selling achbuld?¡ª?a powerful, illegal, and popular drug?¡ª?in the entire city of Valkaria. Achbuld is controlled by the brotherhoods, organizations that rule the city¡¯s underworld. They do a lot of wrong things, no doubt, but a few things these idiots manage to do right. As I mentioned before, my parents taught me the ways of Tibar. What isn¡¯t fair to me, I don¡¯t accept, but I also don¡¯t accept idiots from the court preventing me from getting what¡¯s fair, and they block access to some basic goods, like gunpowder and Wynna stones, labeling them as dangerous items. What¡¯s dangerous is what I want to do to them when I hear such nonsense. Unable to obtain the stones through conventional trade, I had to resort to the brotherhood known as the Blasanov House. Reluctantly, I must point out. The Blasanovs are the most violent of all the brotherhoods. I could have turned to other brotherhoods, but the sons of bitches from the other big families would never accept a request from a goblin?¡ª?they hate us. Of the big ones, only the Blasanovs didn¡¯t hate us for no reason. They didn¡¯t like non-humans, but they wouldn¡¯t turn down a request if it meant making money. I could have asked the brotherhood of the Slums, the Hundredth District, but those poor bastards didn¡¯t have the muscle for trafficking rare forbidden items, like Wynna stones. That was the first step toward my life falling apart.
Now that you¡¯re familiar with my distant past, this humble scribe will dedicate the next lines to the glorious day everything went to hell. It was a workday. I was coming back from a few deliveries I had to do. I opened the door to the workshop, where we both lived and worked, to greet the twins. Dobby and Gobby were already deep into the work¡­
The crazy twins, Gobby and Dobby. I can¡¯t remember which iswhich.
¡°So, how¡¯s the exp¡­¡± BOOM! Explosion. ¡°The thermal insulation was insufficient, Gobby.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right, Dobby. We almost became a memory.¡± And the little bastards were laughing, even after nearly getting themselves killed. Like I said, they¡¯re crazy. ¡°Good thing the Wynna stones are arriving today, you crazy bastards¡­¡± I said. ¡°NAMIK!¡± they shouted in unison. Oh, yes, by the way, my name is Namik. Pleasure to meet you. Forgive this scribe for not introducing himself formally earlier. Etiquette and formalities have never been very appealing to goblins. That¡¯s probably why Niebling likes us so much.
¡°Namik, if what you said is true, we¡¯re going to create something completely groundbreaking. Can you imagine how famous we¡¯ll become?¡± said Gobby, who had a frightening obsession with fame and recognition, especially Niebling¡¯s approval, like a middle child desperate for their father¡¯s attention. ¡°Who cares about that, Gobby? Just think how cool it¡¯ll be to finish this equipment,¡± chimed in Dobby, who lived for the unparalleled thrill of succeeding in his creations. And just like that, they launched into a debate with the most absurd arguments possible. My worry over the loss from the explosion quickly turned into genuine laughter at their dialogue. Happiness really does lie in the simple things.
With the sun high in the sky, it was time to fetch my beautiful Wynna stones. As brilliant as Gobby and Dobby were with mechanical inventions, they were hopeless cases when it came to the finer interactions of social dealings, like negotiations. It was better for me to go alone, and so I did. The Blasanov House was essentially divided into four hierarchical ranks: 1. Soldier: The henchman who gets their hands dirty. 2. Lieutenant: Overseer of a brotherhood facility, commanding a group of soldiers. 3. Captain: Responsible for a city region, with the local lieutenants reporting to them. 4. General: The supreme leader of the Brotherhood. At the time, the General was Mikhail Blasanov, a decrepit old man preparing for his succession before death came knocking. Yes, these maniacal criminals structured their hierarchy using military ranks, which made it clear they weren¡¯t playing around. The delivery spot wasn¡¯t far. I dealt with the closest representative to the Slums, Liev Blasanov. Unstable guy. People like him are best handled with as few words and as little time as possible. He was the lieutenant in charge of the brotherhood¡¯s most important stronghold. And there I was, coming back on the agreed date. Payment had been made in advance, so I only had two things to do: pick up the stones and leave. Two tasks so simple even the dumbest ogre could manage. But there I was, dumber than an ogre¡­ It was an unusual day at their place. A lot of Blasanov movement, people scurrying back and forth. Normally, I¡¯d have been stopped before even entering that house disguised as an inn. But that day, I walked right into the lobby without any trouble. A moment later, a Blasanov finally stopped me: ¡°What are you doing here¡­ goblin?¡± he said, twisting his ugly face. ¡°I ordered two Wynna stones and was told to come back today, at this time.¡± I replied. ¡°You know anything about Wynna stones, Gregory?¡± one soldier asked another. ¡°Heard something about it. Take him to the boss.¡± Gregory answered.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The Blasanovs followed the culture of the old Kingdom of Yuden, carrying its traditions of war and power. They always wore outfits combining black and red, chainmail underneath, and weapons visibly displayed. The soldiers, as these fools liked to call themselves, escorted me to Liev Blasanov, the lieutenant of the house. It was written all over Liev¡¯s face that he was a troublemaker. He looked at everyone with his nose pointed toward the sky and a disdainful gaze, almost as if he were hunting for an excuse to beat the shit out of someone. The massive scar on his cheek was a testament to his combat experience. I could write an entire tome on his flaws, but I can¡¯t deny it: as much of a troublemaker as Liev was, he was just as badass. ¡°You know, goblin, many humans hate your kind,¡± Liev said as he looked at me. ¡°But I have a certain fondness for you. You take risks and don¡¯t fear the unknown; on the contrary, you seem fascinated by exploring new frontiers. In that, you remind me a lot of humans. Of course, us humans are far ahead, but that¡¯s not a knock on goblins. After all, we humans are ahead of all the races. But if I had to put one in second place, it would be you.¡±
The bastard Liev Blasanov.
For some reason, he thought it was a compliment to say we were a second-rate race instead of a third. I nodded repeatedly. Few words, as little time as possible. ¡°Goblin, your order has arrived. Wilbert!¡± Liev called a soldier. ¡°Go to the Wynlla shipment. Bring two Wynna stones.¡± Wilbert left. Gregory, the soldier from earlier, entered the room, warning: Gregory, o soldado de antes, entra na sala em que est¨¢vamos j¨¢ advertindo: ¡°Boss! They¡¯ve arrived!¡± ¡°Fuck, and you only tell me now, you idiot?¡± Liev replied, his face already red. ¡°Take the goblin to the back exit and tell Wilbert to bring the order. Goblin,¡± he turned to me, ¡°though I have a fondness for your kind, not everyone shares that sentiment. Wait in the back so you won¡¯t be seen, and then leave. It¡¯s been a pleasure doing business with you.¡± ¡°Same.¡± Funny, right? For someone who claims to have such fondness¡­ Finally, I left. Guided by the soldier, I reached the room where I would wait, near the back exit. But not just any room. A laboratory! The soldier went after the other to carry out the boss¡¯s orders, leaving me alone among the researchers conducting experiments. The idiot probably thought that a goblin like me wouldn¡¯t understand a damn thing happening there. A nezumi, a race of humanoid rats from the eastern lands of Tamu-ra, with its 1.40m frame, repeatedly turned a heavy mill. Caged, it was being observed by a researcher who, in turn, was taking notes. Other humanoid creatures were undergoing similar experiments. Among them, what really caught my attention were the elementals. One of fire, one of ice. Each was trapped in an impassable glass tube. The scholars spoke arcane words. Now a dart pierced one elemental, now a weight crushed the other. I wasn¡¯t particularly fond of pointless violence; seeing it caused me disgust. But what I would discover later would be worse: it wasn¡¯t pointless. The fire elemental, a rare creature in these parts of Arton, was struck by arcane blows to intensify its flames. The poor creature¡¯s flame was channeled to heat the air, increasing the pressure on rotating blades that moved gears upon gears, ultimately reaching a hammer-pile that relentlessly crushed materials. The ice elemental cooled the apparatus, allowing the cycle to restart. The violence wasn¡¯t pointless. With each strike, the poor creature released flames in all directions, struggling in a vain attempt to escape. That¡¯s when it looked at me. Its flames wavered and then stabilized. It spoke words in a primordial language. The watching mage-researcher responded immediately: ¡°No one understands what you¡¯re saying, idiot.¡± If that were the case, perhaps my life wouldn¡¯t have become pure chaos. Fortunately?¡ª?or unfortunately?¡ª?we learned several languages at the Arcane Academy, and he spoke in Ignan, the primordial language of fire creatures. ¡°Help.¡± That turned my stomach. The violence was not pointless; those beings were being used in experiments to be turned into slaves! A wave of nausea took over me, and I held back the vomit. What would I do? I took a moment to think logically: Let¡¯s suppose I figure out how to free them, let¡¯s suppose I manage to take down the scholars to set them free, how would I deal with the Blasanovs afterward? What are the chances they wouldn¡¯t find out? What are the chances they¡¯d find out but do nothing about it? What are the chances they¡¯d find out, do something about it, and I¡¯d manage to come out on top? ¡°Hey! Hey! Are you there?¡± Soldier Wilbert appeared with my Wynna stones. ¡°Do you have a problem? Went into a trance? Here¡¯s your package. I¡¯ll take you to the exit.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± I responded kind of absentmindedly. I was stunned, unable to think about what to do before the soldier arrived. And it pains me to say this, but I grabbed my package and left, like a coward.
I took a few steps out of the Blasanov¡¯s house. I stopped. Since I was a child, I was taught to never accept anything less than what is fair. I never took on a job without its fair reward. I learned the path of Tibar from my parents and have walked it ever since. Slavery is the vilest form of injustice. Allowing that to happen for even another second would go against the very core of my being; it would be betraying the memory of my parents?¡ª?and that, my friend, I would not allow. ¡°I¡¯m not running fucking away from this!¡± I thought to myself. The question was no longer whether I would return to free the slaves; it became how I would do it. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m not a combat mage, I couldn¡¯t take on the Blasanov House head-on. But I¡¯m not useless either. I¡¯m a mage trained at the Arcane Academy, and you learn everything a mage needs to know there. What gave me even more confidence were the two Wynna stones I carried, allowing me to cast spells beyond my natural limit. Plan: Invisibility spell; returning to the laboratory through the back doors; breaking the elementals¡¯ cages with the appropriate magic; taking advantage of the chaos to free the other prisoners; leaving before being seen. The best plan I could come up with within my limits. Plans, oh, the plans! Mental designs of pure beauty and perfection. But reality, oh, reality! A hammer with no regard for your desires, smashing everything that had been meticulously imagined. Covering myself with motivation, inspiration, and whatever else was needed to overcome the fright I felt, I gestured with my staff and spoke the necessary arcane words, and, using the stone of Wynna, I became invisible. ¡°They would never suspect that a goblin was the one who freed the elementals,¡± I repeated to myself. I held my breath and moved, step after step. Moments of tension are strange things. I felt that if I exhaled before reaching the door, I would simply give up. But even with my hand trembling like that of a frail old woman, I conjured a strong wind and opened the back door. The guard immediately went to check what happened; it was the opening I needed to slip inside unnoticed. I was invisible, but I wasn¡¯t inaudible, nor intangible. If I got caught, my friend, it was over. Or worse: I would become another victim of the laboratory, my work exploited day after day. I circled the guard and, on tiptoe, made my way to the laboratory, conveniently close to the back entrance. My breathing, something I usually never noticed, sounded like a flute blown at full volume in that moment. I maintained an absurd level of control over my breathing, my abdomen, muscles, and so on. In moments of intense focus, it feels like we enter a tunnel, our vision of the goal at the end of it becomes sharp, but we become blind to everything around us. In that tunnel vision, I managed to read the movements and slink silently to the elementals¡¯ cells. I assumed that a cell capable of withstanding the intense heat of a fire elemental would surely be fragile to ice magic?¡ª?and vice versa. It was time to put the second part of the plan into action. To avoid speaking arcane words, I used even more magical power stored in the Wynna stones, without which I wouldn¡¯t be able to do it. In the darkness, I froze the glass of the fire elemental¡¯s cell. The elemental fixed its eyes on mine. I completely panicked at that moment?¡ª?how the hell could the bastard see me? I checked myself twice, thinking my invisibility had worn off?¡ª?it¡¯s not a simple spell! Still invisible, I struck the glass with the base of my staff, the glass shattered into small pieces. As the glass fragments flew, I hastened to cast flames at the ice elemental¡¯s cell. Thermal shock. That cell too shattered into tiny pieces. ¡°Thank you,¡± said the fire elemental in its language, while the other one expressed its gratitude with a gesture. A silly smile. I vividly remember the feeling of satisfaction when freeing someone in that situation and receiving their thanks. Everything was going as planned. Now it was time to take advantage of the mess, the Blasanovs trying to stop the elementals from escaping, to free the other prisoners. That¡¯s when it went wrong. The elementals didn¡¯t escape; after thanking me, the two turned on the researchers and unleashed fire and ice on them. It was a massacre. And I enjoyed it. People running amid flames on one side; people skewered by ice spears on the other. A thing of beauty. Don¡¯t think I¡¯m insensitive or sadistic?¡ª?far from it?¡ª?I¡¯ve already said that I don¡¯t like pointless violence. But this was a deserved punishment that, if not delivered there and in that way, might never have been delivered. With that slaughter, it wouldn¡¯t be long before the heavy hitters from the house showed up. I quickly hurried to free the other slaves. The invisibility wore off; the magical reserve of the stones had run out. I was left with only my own magical power, and it was best not to waste it on anything other than strictly necessary. Since the elementals were dealing with the Blasanovs and had shown gratitude towards me, I deemed it unnecessary to maintain the invisibility. I tried to break the nezumi¡¯s cell lock with a blow from my staff. No luck. ¡°The key and our belongings,¡± the rat-man pointed to a corner of the room. At this point, the elementals had already spilled the blood of the researchers present. The ice elemental, satisfied with the carnage, headed toward the exit. The fire elemental, on the other hand, moved deeper into the house, not stopping its vengeance there. In this state of flow, as some scholars of the mind say, I grabbed the keys and went back to free the nezumi. Few keys seemed to match the entrance, but I quickly found the right one. I freed the nezumi and moved on to the next. As I freed them, they ran toward the exit. When I was near the last cell, reality dared to escape the plan once again. With my focus entirely on freeing the slaves, I didn¡¯t notice a Blasanov sneaking up behind me, ready to strike me furtively. Caught off guard, the stealthy attack would certainly have been fatal?¡ª?a human dagger is more than enough to pierce the body of a small goblin like me. That¡¯s when, who would¡¯ve thought, my good deeds finally bore fruit. As the executioner¡¯s hand was about to strike, a shadow appeared, spinning beside me, accompanied by a sharp whistle, characteristic of a blade cutting through the air. Then came the sound of flesh and ligaments being torn. I saw the severed hand fall to the ground, and before it could complete its descent, before the Blasanov could even let out a scream, a second blade from the nezumi found his jugular, and the Blasanov, then, found the ground.
The stubbornnezumi.
¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I was so surprised that I couldn¡¯t even thank him properly. An explosion erupted inside the house, a bad omen that made me hurry to open the cells. Later, I learned that it was the death of the fire elemental. There is a certain honor in choosing their own death. As for mine, may it be as delayed as possible.
It was really a mess. Each fugitive running in one direction, and I, of course, heading to mine. Towards my slum, towards Magitec. I wrote that each fugitive went their own way, but I must correct myself: the nezumi ran by my side. The run to the Goblin Slums wasn¡¯t long; this Blasanov house was purposefully close to the slums. We arrived at my workshop in no time. Still out of breath, I asked the most basic questions to get to know him. ¡°Nice to meet you, my name is Namik. What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°My name is Koda, from the Tamotsu clan,¡± he replied, showing not even a hint of fatigue. ¡°Thank you for saving me from that cowardly attack.¡± ¡°You freed me, master. I am still in your debt.¡± ¡°Master?!¡± I was surprised by the way he addressed me, ¡°no, no. Thank you, but I¡¯m no master to anyone. I simply couldn¡¯t stand seeing people reduced to slavery. Consider your debt paid.¡± ¡°I cannot. A debt must be repaid with my servitude,¡± he said, kneeling with one hand on his chest, the other on the ground, and his head lowered as a sign of honor. I insisted that there was no debt to repay and that even if there had been one, it would have been settled when he saved my life. But it was no use. He explained that in his culture, a debt is only paid when one¡¯s honor is restored, and protecting me was the least he could do. Koda told me that he was from a clan of nezumis bounty hunters from Nitamu-ra, a Tamurian district in Valkaria. Honor is the most important social pillar for his people. No matter how much I insisted, it would be a dishonor for him to accept the premature settlement of the debt. A debt that only existed in his stubborn and rigid mind. The workshop was surprisingly large for a building located in the Goblin Slums. Situated on the main street, there was enough space for another worker. ¡°Very well, if you wish to repay your debt, it must be on my terms. I don¡¯t accept servitude, just as I don¡¯t accept slavery. If you want to stay here, you¡¯ll be my employee and get paid for your work. And, oh, never call me master again!¡± ¡°I accept¡­ boss.¡± We shook hands as equals, without any more reverence or kneeling. ¡°Come on, Koda. I¡¯ll introduce you to Gobby and Dobby, the other members of Magitec, our workshop.¡± Koda, a quiet nezumi, showed great curiosity for the inventions of the siblings. He spent most of his time observing them develop their creations. Being the strongest in the workshop, he was put in charge of the heavier tasks and small daily chores. The twins were also pleased to have him around. With his help, they managed to accelerate their projects. As for me, I was glad not to be the only one cleaning the workshop anymore?¡ª?not that cleaning was exactly a goblin specialty¡­ This humble arcanist who writes to you dedicated the following days to recharging the Wynna stones, starting our technomantic experiment. As for Liev Blasanov, well, I couldn¡¯t avoid him forever¡­ But anyway, this tome has no more space, and I¡¯ll have to continue my story in the next one, where I¡¯ll explain more about the Goblin Slums, our invention, and Liev¡¯s actions in response to the goblin who destroyed his laboratory. Nothing would be the same in the underworld of the Goblin Slums.

End of Tome#1

Glossary Tormenta: Tormenta is a high fantasy medieval RPG setting created in Brazil in 1999. Over the past 25 years, more than 200 official publications have been released within this setting. The name means ¡°Storm¡± and refers to an extraplanar red storm that brings its own insectoid demons to the world of Arton. Arton: It is the main world of Tormenta. It is primarily divided into South Arton (Lamnor), the land of goblinoids, and North Arton (Ramnor), the land of humans and other races. The Reign: The main union of human kingdoms. Its capital kingdom is Deheon, and the capital city of Deheon is Valkaria. Valkaria: The largest city in The Reign, Valkaria is built around a massive statue of the homonymous goddess once imprisoned in stone. Valkaria, the Goddess of Ambition and Humankind, was eventually freed from her prison and now leads the Pantheon, the 20 major gods of the world, each residing in their own plane. Despite her liberation, the statue remains there. The Pantheon: consists of 20 major gods in Tormenta. Among them is Wynna, the Goddess of Magic, who is both good and chaotic. Tamu-ra: A large island located far northeast of The Reign, Tamu-ra draws inspiration from Japanese culture. Until recently, the entire island was dominated by the Tormenta, but a group of minor gods fought and liberated Tamu-ra from it. Nitamu-ra: A part of Tamu-ra that was magically teleported to Valkaria to escape the Tormenta¡¯s invasion. It resembles a ¡°Japanese-town¡± situated within a medieval European city. Minor gods: There are countless minor gods in Arton. Anyone can ascend to minor godhood if they are worshipped by a sufficient number of beings, and even worship of a nonexistent god can bring it into existence. Minor gods are not as powerful as the major gods, nor have they their own planes. Tibar: Tibar is the minor god of commerce. Originally a human, he ascended to godhood and now leads the largest merchant guild in the world. Tibar also managed Valkaria¡¯s plane, Odyssey, during the goddess¡¯s imprisonment and continues to oversee it when she leaves her plane. Additionally, Arton¡¯s currency is named after Tibar, making him widely known throughout the world. Nowadays, Tormenta is published by Jamb? Editora. All rights reserved.