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Once, there existed six of the greatest warriors to ever live in Tarkath, known only as the Six Spears. They defended the weak, upheld the law, and saw that justice was done in the land. While they rode across Tarkath, it was said that evil knew fear and had no hold over the people. But they were betrayed by a man they trusted; a Lord in the service to dark powers who bore the name of Ashet.

The Six Spears were murdered. Worried they would not be given proper rites, a group of their loyal followers took their bodies away to a secret tomb deep in the wastes between Karna and Abydos. They gave them the death rites and sealed the tomb, each taking poison to ensure they would never tell the tale of its location.

It is said that, when called, the Six Spears will rise from their tomb and walk the earth. Though not in the name of justice and the law, but for vengeance. In modern days, they have come to be known as the Six Eternals and it is said if one speaks all six names and offers the proper prayer, they will seek revenge upon the named. It is also said that at the end of days, when all is lost, the Six Eternals will rise from their tombs of old to fight alongside the people for the glory of Tarkath.

To this day the name Ashet is never used by parents. Tales abound of terrifying creatures that stalk the wilds of Tarkath. Most of these stories are used to scare children, but one would not have to go far in Tarkath to find adults who believed they were real and have stories to tell of them.

Said to be the spawn of a dark spirit and a human, tales say these foul creatures can strip a person of their flesh just by touching them. They are said to have half a head and half of every human body part, capable of great leaps to catch human prey. Stories say this creature is almost hairless and lives in and around places of the dead such as necropoli and tombs. They are said to stalk these places and devour fresh corpses. They will, with equally vile enthusiasm and terrible ferocity rend the flesh of the living given a lack of corpses.

Sometimes referred to as dopplegangers, these creatures are said to be the spiritual copy of a person. Appearing as ghostly visages of the living, the Quareen are said to be the heralds of death. Should a Quareen present themselves as your likeness, your end is nigh. It is said that the person who dies cannot be truly put to rest until the Quareen is hunted down and destroyed.

Whether the Hatif are spectral phenomenae or just one of the hallucinations of the waste is unclear. They are said to be disembodied voices that convey important messages to travellers in the wasteslands.

Though whenever the origin of the voice is pursued, nothing is found. Other interpreations of this story are perhaps more insidious, claiming that these voices imitate lost loves, luring desert travelers out amongst the hardpacked, scorched earth, and often to their deaths. Like the north is plagued by tales of wolves who take the form of men, in Tarkath legends are told of jackals that can do the same.

These beasts are said to roam in packs, hunting for living flesh but will eat just about anything that they can find. This makes them especially dangerous in Tarkath, where meals in the wild are few and far between. The great houses of Arnesse have remained in power throughout history due in no small part to the leverage granted them by their industrial and economic influence. This section details the current state of their affairs in these realms. In a land as desolate as Tarkath, options for industry are extremely limited.

Much of what is acquired in the south is used there. From an early time, the Tarkathi have had to focus on quality over quantity to maximize their profits. They also have taken advantage of the fact that much of what is made in Tarkath is seen as exotic and exclusive in the north. Thus, their industry is focused primarily on goods for the wealthy. Some of the rarest and most sought after spices are produced in the dry southern climate. The Dune Moth, a native of Tarkath produces an extremely soft, lustrous silk that is then woven into some of the finest fabric in the Kingdom.

Its silk is both tough and supple and vore spider silk can be sown into garments that are extremely hardy and soft. Tarkathi masters sew spider silk into fine clothing and make it strong enough to turn a blade. While Tarkath has no vineyards, it brews several unique liquors and beers with the grains that it imports. Tarkathi distill a potent draught of liquor called the Blood of the Dragon for its rich red color and firey taste. Tarkath is also well known for brewing of all manner of potions, elixirs, and decoctions.

The finest alchemists in Arnesse are found there and if one is seeking a substance of any kind, there are few better places to look than the South. Rumors persist that those who seek less-than-legal goods such as poisons or drugs can find them hidden in secret markets and alleys of Tarkath.

With how desolate and dangerous Tarkath was, it would be easy to think that few were willing to brave the wastes to move goods through it. The South has more markets than anywhere in Arnesse and has the most active trade industry in the Kingdom. House Aragon made it a priority to build a strong relationship with the Cirque and with the constant need to keep Tarkath supplied, there is a steady supply of gold for those who are willing to risk the dangers of travelling here and fulfill that need.

In exchange, merchants can bring caravans of rare and exotic goods from the South that can be sold at premium prices at any market. The further North one takes those goods, the higher the price that can be demanded by the merchant. Cirque caravans in Tarkath are known as the Crimson Cortege due to their red flags and wagon covers. The red color actually has a more mundane purpose as it is easily seen against the grey landscape at great distances from high vantages. The colors make it easy to spot when a caravan is coming along a trade route and serves as a warning to raiders that the caravan protected and owned by the Cirque guild.

Though not an industry, Tarkathi markets are known to often have lore, artifacts, and treasures for sale. Sellers often claim that it is loot stolen from a ancient tombs within the wastes, the treasure horde of a bandit lord, or even from the vaults of the Ashen Tower itself.

Much of this is fake, but if rumors are to be believed, the deepest parts of the wastelands are filled with ancient ruins and tombs that hold untold mysteries and treasures. Occasionally those brave enough to take the risks and survive come back to markets with legitimate valuables. Those who have an eye for forgeries and are willing to risk punishment for purchasing stolen goods or the occasional death curse can possibly find real treasure in the marketplace.

South of there, all plant life becomes brown and withered, eventually disappearing and being replaced by nothing but extremely fine, rocky soil. The landscape of Tarkath is open and flat with outcroppings of rock dotting the landscape at regular intervals. Not even the remains of plant life exist here. This land has been dead for so long that even the remnants of life have disappeared. Birds and mammals are rare, but some genuinely hardy creatures have found a way to adapt to life in the wastes.

All of them are either reptiles, insects, or arachnids of some kind and almost all are deadly poisonous. In the harsh landscape of Tarkath, only the strongest and most vicious can survive.

Few places in Arnesse are as desolate and inhospitable as Tarkath. Those who have not visited often speak of it as a vast desert of sand, but the soil of Tarkath is laden with very fine ash that has permanently renders it unable to sustain life. The soil also contains a substance known as scrith that is poisonous when inhaled over time. In addition to the typical dangers of exposure and lack of both food and water, the traveller in Tarkath must contend with the fact that the very earth on whichh they walk on is trying to kill them.

The amount of scrith in soil varies throughout the Protectorate and some areas are less dangerous than others. Unexplored regions have more scrith than those which are inhabited. In the unsettled regions, known as the Deep Wastes, it is said that it is impossible to survive outside unprotected for more than a single day.

Scrith is commonly used as a base for most of the poisons made in Tarkath. It not only increases their toxicity, but allows them to stay potent longer in the air on weapons. It can also be rendered into very fine powder that dissolves quickly in liquid or is very easily blown into the air. To travel deeper, outsiders likely must employ a guide.

The best in Tarkath are known as Dustrunners and their services do not come cheaply. Dustrunners use special suits and masks that filter out scrith so that they can survive longer in the wastes. They are also said to set up numerous shelters around Tarkath known as wadi which contain stashes of food, water, and are more secure from the harsh environment.

The Tarkathi city of Taliesin is the best place to hire Dustrunners. Further South, the Tors of Tarkath lie hundreds of miles apart. Finding them without a reliable map and the skills to navigate the wastes is surely suicide given that there are no water sources and the only food is deadly poisonous.

The Tors are impressive, rising from the flat landscape of Tarkath like giant rock monoliths. It is said that they are naturally occurring structures but legends say they were constructed using mighty magics.

The Tors have mystic wards that keep them free of the poison, though the Tarkathi themselves are especially resistant to scrith.

Two hundred miles South of the border into the Midlands, the might River Emon cuts a wide channel through the wastes, eventually dividing into two smaller rivers, the Khyber and the Tethys. These rivers are all treacherous for the inexperienced to travel on and are filled with a dark water that is tainted with scrith. Thanks to their resistance to the poison the Tarkathi can drink it, but others experience illness, delusions, memory loss and in time, death. The weather in the South of Arnesse is hot and dry.

While one might think that the Vokun Mountains act as a rain catch for Western Tarkath, the flow of winds takes much of the wet weather to the North where it falls on the Sovereignlands. The wind can also create ash spires, tornadoes made of ash and dust that vary from a few feet in height to hundreds.

The worst of all the weather hazards are the mighty ash storms, during which winds can rage over two hundred miles an hour, kicking up massive amounts of ashen soil and rocks. Home to approximately sixty thousand souls, Dragonspire is one of the oldest cities in Arnesse. Legends say that it was founded by the hero Arric the Argent in the Elder Days when he made a deal with the ancient dragon Menat to share the mystical well known as the Lifespring.

Passage into the tor is granted only by a complex series of elevators. There are rumors of other ways to get in and out, but if they exist they are all closely guarded secrets. The center of the Tor has been hollowed out and within is a massive pit.

Emerging from the center is a massive, white stone tower that rises above the rock walls of the Tor to a height of over one thousand feet. Living quarters for residents are built into the rock walls on the inside of the Tor and are linked by a series of stairwells and lit by crystals that glow in low light. The Dragonspire itself is a massive structure that it is said has a nearly uncountable number of rooms, halls, and passages.

In the ancient days, when the city was thriving and alive, the tower was often full and often used. Now, the Aragons barely use the upper quarter for their own living quarters and administrative needs of the Protectorate. The visitor may notice that there is a surprisingly large amount of high technology here. From the elevators that lift people into the Tor to the indoor plumbing available in most of the homes to the wonderful public baths and pools that are available for all to use.

Though the city itself is built out of the very rock, it is appointed with a luxury and wealth not seen in Northern cities. Vibrant paints, mosaics, and rare materials decorate the walls in the wealthy areas. The low quarters are not as well appointed but are kept clean and well designed. Water flows through parts of the city in rivers and along trestles and plants brought in from all over Arnesse bring stone and rock to life.

Taleisin is not a Tor, but a city in the traditional sense. The fortress dominates the center and close to it is the Golden Quarter, where the wealthy and the nobles live. A fifty-foot wall separates the Golden Quarter from the Market Quarter where most of the merchants and tradesman make their homes and living. There are three formal markets Golden Market, Ash Market, and the Sand Market but a good deal of commerce goes on outside those venues.

A thirty- foot wall separates the Market Quarter from the Ashen Quarter, where the lower classes make their homes. Beyond the Ashen Quarter is Shacktown, barely more than a series of tents and hastily assembled shanties that shelter the homeless and those with no useful skills. Life in Shacktown is hard and dangerous. The city guard does not patrol Shacktown and the crime rates are high; thefts, murders, and muggings happen every day.

Taliesin sits at the end of the longest highway in Arnesse, the mighty Aurean Road. A thriving tourist trade has cropped up and merchants and guides cater to outsiders who come to Taliesin with full coin purses looking to sample some exotic pleasures from Tarkath. Sirats are not as large as Tors, but feature significant respite from the wastes and some type of reliable water source. Many sirats are underground, built into caverns and cravasses to keep off the heat and dangers of the wastes.

Sirats lie far out of reach of the Tors, the nobles, and their armies and they very often become havens for those who are disaffected or outcast from mainstream Tarkathi society.

Serapis is an underground sirat and is reached by descending a long lava tube into a wide cavern that leads to a series of caves and tunnels beneath the foothills of the Spires of Castellan. Less than two thousand invididuals regularly make their home here and about half of that population is somewhat transitory. Serapis is run by Master Jafer Pyon, a highborn son of the former rulers of Taliesin.

It is said that in Serapis for a price, anything can be acquired or accomplished. Quite a few criminals and undesirables make this place their home, laying low in a haven that no noble or law man would dare show their face.

The sirat of Hagga lies a hundred miles to the Southwest of Serapis. It is a refuge for the poor and diseased ruled by no lord. Once Hagga was said to be a haven for the wealthy, a paradise amid the wastes. Now it is only haven for plague and the gangs of infected who have organized themselves into rowdy organizations that control sections of the ruined city.

The strongest of these gangs is known as the Temple of Rot, led by an insane zealot known only as Jodah. Rumors abound that they perform rituals, sacrifices, and even cannibalism.

One of the few sirats that is not below ground, it is said that Dokaal was built around the remnants of an ancient guard outpost from the days before the Great War. While House Aragon tries to patrol the Scaled Road, the dangers of raiders from the Withered Forest or the hills of the Vokun Mountains is always a threat to trade, commerce, and travellers.

Dokaal is ruled by a man named Farok, a self-appointed Trade Prince. Farok came from the West just under five years ago. He brought with him a band of hired mercenaries that some say were backed by coin from the Free City of Orn. He defeated a bandit lord named Assan who had controlled Dokaal and was using it as a base to raid caravans all along the Scaled Road.

Farok has restored a bit of order to Dokaal and while it houses less than five thousand residents, it is a thriving sanctuary that serves as a staging base for trade in the West. Dokaal is still very much a frontier settlement, with very few comforts.

Farok does little to enforce the law and crime is common, especially theft. Raids from the wastes happen now and then but as more wealth flows into the sirat, it becomes a bigger target for those brave raiders desperate enough to attack it. Nekros is a sirat that sits at the juncture of the Rivers Emon, Khyber, and Tethys. Nekros sits on a wide plain less than twenty miles from Dragonspire. The seat of the Protectorate is so near that the great spire can be seen in the distance on a clear day.

Upon approach one would see a huge pyramid made from black stone rising four hundred feet from the waters where the three rivers meet. This is the Ossuary. Four black stone obelisks are placed on each side of the pyramid, rising to a height of two hundred feet and covered in ancient runes. It is here that the people of Tarkath bring their loved ones, nobles, and heroes to seek the final burial rites that will ensure a peaceful transition into the afterlife. Though like many things in this world, these rites are expensive and often only for the wealthy or very successful.

More than a few Tarkathi are buried in tombs and graves near their homes and never see Nekros. There is always a concern that those who do not receive the rites will return as spirits or undead to haunt the living until they are properly laid to rest in Nekros.

There are no bridges that cross to the pyramid so those who seek admittance to the Ossuary must pay a black robed figure known only as the Ferryman for passage across.

The boat ride is costly and more than many can afford, but people are often willing to scrape together whatever coin they can to ensure their loved ones will have a safe journey into the afterlife. The Ossuary is not the only thing in Nekros. Along the banks of the rivers are gathered a collection of stone buildings, temples, and shrines that make up the sirat of Nekros. Though less than a thousand people make this their permanent home, an industry has risen here to support those who come to bring their deceased to the Ossuary.

There are taverns and inns where people can stay and take refuge but little in the way of trade or industry. An aire of mysticism in Nekros attracts those who seek to make coin off the bereaved. Seers are commonplace on the streets and for enough coin one can find someone who can allegedly contact a deceased loved one.

For those who cannot afford the services of the Ossuary, less official burial rites can be purchased from local gravekeepers and the body interred in a necropolis not far outside of town.

Blocking the way into Tarkath is a massive portal and attached fortress known as the Dragon Gate. The gate itself is over one hundred feet high and said to be made of a rare metal that is stronger than steel. The gate itself has two dragons carved into it, one into either door and is ornately decorated with reliefs that rival the metalwork of House Richter. Indeed, the mighty Dragon Gate has never been broken and never been successfully sieged.

The fortress itself could easily house ten thousand troops but in modern days only a thousand Aragon soldiers known as the Westwatch are stationed here. Little is known about this place as so few who have gone there have ever come back alive. Those that have, were all changed, driven mad by whatever they saw there. It is said that within this cursed place, whole cities of old lie abandoned, eternal tombs to ancient civilizations the world has long since forgotten.

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If you could give me another hour, I will be able to complete the transcription of another of the entries. The library has been closed for some time.