Le Bayou a Faim

Kelwyn’s Emporium rises from the damp streets of Ville des Marai like a stubborn relic from another age, its heavy gray stone walls defiantly unpainted and unsoftened by the pastel stucco that defines the rest of the city. Where neighboring buildings gleam in sun-faded blues, pinks, and yellows, the emporium looms in austere solidity, its surface darkened by years of mist drifting from the nearby Rivière Tumultueuse. The iron sign bearing its name creaks faintly in the humid air, a familiar sound to locals who pass without a second glance. Though it stands apart visually, the building has long since earned its place in the rhythm of the city. The structure itself is broad and two stories tall, with narrow, arched windows set deep into the stone to keep out the worst of the swampy heat. Moss creeps along the lower edges of the walls, and small rivulets of condensation often trace lazy paths downward in the early morning hours. Despite its age-worn appearance, the building is immaculatel...

  The Red Lantern District of Ville des Marai sits just beyond the older, drier wards of the city, where the streets begin to sink toward the marsh and the air grows thick with lantern light and rumor. Its name comes from the crimson lanterns hung outside certain establishments - an unspoken signal to those who know how to read it. Officially, the district does not exist as a sanctioned place of business, but in practice it thrives under a delicate balance of legality, wealth, and quiet agreement. By law, prostitution within Ville des Marai is forbidden. Yet, like many things in a city built on trade and water, the law bends where money flows. The city’s magistrates and tax collectors take a careful interest in the district, ensuring that while the trade itself remains technically illegal, the revenue it generates - through licenses, “entertainment” taxes, and indirect commerce - continues to benefit the coffers of the city. In return, the district is expected...

Elias Moreau noticed something was wrong the moment the music faltered. The streets of the city were alive with celebration, as they always were on La Nuit de Jack Errant. Lanterns glowed from every window, and carved faces - grinning, screaming, exaggerated - watched from every doorstep. Masks hid the living beneath layers of paint and wood, while laughter and music pushed back the night. Everything was as it should be. But the trumpet in the square cut out mid-note, and for just a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Elias paused on his way home, his hand resting on the brim of his hat. He scanned the crowd. People were still dancing, still laughing - but the rhythm felt off, like a heartbeat skipping where it shouldn’t. Then he saw the first mask crack. Across the square, a man froze mid-step. The painted grin on his wooden mask split cleanly down the center. The man reached up instinctively, panic flickering in his movements, and for a moment Elias thought it was ...

 La Nuit de Jack Errant “The Night of the Wandering Jack” Date: 30th of Deuxième Récolte Overview La Nuit de Jack Errant marks the final night of the harvest season - a liminal moment when the living world brushes dangerously close to the restless dead. It is both a celebration and a warding ritual, a contradiction embraced fully: music against silence, masks against recognition, light against the dark. The people say: “If Jack sees his face, he remembers his curse. If he does not… he remembers you.” Origins & Legend The tale of Wandering Jack is told in hushed tones along bayous and in candlelit parlors. Jack was once a cruel and cunning man - variously described as a gambler, a smuggler, or a faithless priest - who cheated spirits, betrayed allies, and escaped death more than once through trickery. When he finally died, neither heaven nor hell would claim him. Instead, he was cursed to wander eternally, his face lost, his identity unraveling with each passin...

  The Parish Mint & the Silver Standard The Shift to Silver (Why Gold Isn’t King) Long before the current age, the region’s economy was based on gold like most civilized lands. That ended during a period now called “The Dimming Flood.” A generation of catastrophic storms and unnatural tides drowned trade routes, sank caravans, and - more importantly - tainted gold. Salvaged gold coins began to carry a subtle curse: misfortune, sickness, even whispers in the night. Priests, rootworkers, and hedge mages all agreed... Gold had become spiritually “heavy.” Silver, however, proved untouched. More than that - it seemed to repel the strange energies creeping in from the bayou. Charms held better when backed with silver. Wards etched into silver coins actually worked. Before long, merchants, priests, and smugglers alike began weighing value not by rarity - but by spiritual reliability. Thus, the Silver Standard was born: Contracts are sealed with silver Debts are measured in s...

     Nieliah is the loa of romance, passion, femininity, sex, beauty, florals, and perfume. Her main colors are pink, green and white, and she loves sweet cakes, expensive liqueurs and perfumes as her gifts and offerings. She absolutely adores both men and women, and revels in every aspect of love and sexuality. Her veve is a stylized heart with a butterfly on each side. Her domains are Good, Love and Pleasure.      Somewhere to the East of Ville des Marai are hotsprings known as Nieliah's Bath. The area is incredibly difficult to find, and it's said that Nieliah guards her oasis jealously so that only those that truly yearn for love are able to find it. Those that bathe in the exceedingly pure water of the hotsprings will find their hearts and passions open wide, and will fall in love with whomever else is bathing in the springs at the time (a DC 18 Willpower check is required and can be intentionally failed; failure means that the PC/NPC has fallen deepl...

Papa Loup Blanc is counted among the more unpredictable and turbulent of the Loa. In his most common form, he appears as an immense white wolf, prowling the bayous under the watch of a full moon. Wolves of every kind are sacred to him, and his presence is often marked by unease in the wild places he claims as his own. His veve is said to resemble a full moon scored by four claw marks. When making offerings to Papa Loup, meat is expected - fresh above all else - or small sacrificial animals such as rabbits or otters. He is known to exert a strange influence over lycanthropes, forcing them into their hybrid forms when ridden by his presence, regardless of their natural state. As a turbulent Loa, his dominion lies in chaos, shadows, and clever deception. Though not inherently evil, he takes a mischievous delight in disturbing the minds of those who wander into his territory - whispering just beyond hearing, crafting the illusion of unseen pursuit, and keeping travelers in a constant sta...

     The scene unfolds in the midst of a torrential downpour, transforming the cobblestone streets of Ville des Marai into a glistening canvas. The red-haired belly dancer, unfazed by the rain, commands the attention of onlookers.      Her fiery locks cascade down her back like a waterfall of autumn hues, contrasting vividly with the muted tones of the attire surrounding her. Raindrops cling to her eyelashes, sparkling like diamonds as she bats them away, her gaze fixed on some distant rhythm.      Her belly dance attire, a mesmerizing blend of Middle Eastern and medieval flair, clings to her curves, accentuating each movement. The fabric shimmers, wet and translucent, revealing hints of intricate tattoos beneath. Rainwater trickles down her skin, tracing paths across her shoulders, arms, and hips.      As she dances, her hips sway hypnotically, drawing the crowd in. Her arms undulate like a serpent, fingers extended, beckoni...

     In addition to a myriad of diseases that vex the inhabitants of Ville des Marai, one of the worst is known simply as The Rot. This horrible disease starts off simply as a red, itchy rash on the face. Slowly, over a period of 2-5 days (1d4+1), the victim's skin begins to wither and die, quickly becoming necrotic. Open, dripping wounds form on the skin after it begins to darken, and the pus that oozes from the infections is extremely dangerous (the pus can also be seen moving through the skin as if it were alive). Those suffering from The Rot smell horrible, the odor a duplicate of humanoid decay. • The Rot Type disease (contact); Save Fortitude DC 16 Onset 1d4+1 days; Frequency 1/day Effect Ability damage (1d6 Con, 1d6 Cha), possible permanent blindness or death (1 week); Cure 3 consecutive saves If the PC or NPC fails the check by more than 3 points, s/he suffers the ability damage mentioned (1d6 Con, 1d6 Cha) and goes permanently blind. If the victim fails th...

Baron Glegali      Baron Glegali is one of the more active turbulent loa in the area and the constant thorn in the side of the houngan   Pépin Rey . Once a bokor of considerable power, he was accidentally slain by Pépin three decades ago when the two came to blows over a woman that they were both in love with. He was taken into the ranks of the turbulent loa for his immense service to them, and his spirit was reformed with his memory intact.     Falling for  Régine Villeneuve at first sight,  Baron Glegali tried to do everything he could to court the lovely creole woman. He presented her with lavish gifts, flowers, anything he could think of. It was to no avail, however, as  Régine  had fallen deeply in love with  Pépin. Baron Glegali confronted Pépin at his run-down little shanty, telling him that he wasn't good enough for  Régine and that  Pépin  should intentionally ruin their relationship so tha...