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The Old World

City-state

Marienburg

The sprawling, canal-laced merchant city at the mouth of the Reik, richer than kingdoms and beholden to nothing but gold.

Astrography

Altdorf, Capital of the EmpireAthel Loren, the Enchanted ForestAverheimBarak VarrBechafen, City of the MarshesCouronne, City of the GrailErengradHag Graef, the Dark CragHexoatl, City of the SunItzaKarak Azul, the Hold of IronKarak Eight PeaksKarak KadrinKaraz-a-Karak, the EverpeakKislev, the City of the Ice QueenLothernLustria, the Jungle ContinentMarienburgMiddenheim, the City of the White WolfMousillonNaggarondNaggaroth, the Land of ChillNehekhara, the Land of the DeadNuln, City of Iron and PowderParravon, City of the PeaksPraag, the Scarred CitySkavenblightSylvania, the Cursed ProvinceTalabheimTor Elyr, City of the LagoonsUlthuan, Isle of the High ElvesWolfenburgWurtbad, City of StirlandYvresse, the Misty IsleZhufbar, the Torrent GateZlatlan, the Fallen Temple-City

Where the mighty River Reik empties into the Sea of Claws sprawls Marienburg, greatest and most decadent port in the Old World. Built upon a hundred sinking mud-flats and laced with canals in place of streets, it is a city that floats upon its own staggering wealth. Though it once belonged to the Empire of Man as the province of Westerland, Marienburg long ago bought its independence with a river of gold, and now bows to no Emperor, only to profit.

The city is ruled in truth by the Directorate, a cabal of merchant-princes whose trading houses command fleets, fortunes, and armies of hired blades. Here anything may be purchased, from the finest Cathayan silk to the quiet murder of a rival, and the Guild of high finance holds more power than any prince of a landlocked realm. Beneath the glittering counting-houses, however, the mud-flats teem with poverty, crime, and the ceaseless rot of a city too heavy for the marsh that bears it.

Marienburg's independence galls the Empire it abandoned, for whoever holds the Reik's mouth holds a knife to the throat of Imperial trade. Reikland princes dream of reclaiming the port, and foreign powers scheme endlessly to bend its Directorate to their coin. Yet the merchant-lords play all sides with equal cynicism, for they know that gold outlasts loyalty, and that a city with no god but wealth need never fear for want of friends, only for the day the ledgers finally run red.