Category: Hellsport

Hellsport, formerly Jannyn or Saint Jannyn, is the westernmost city in the country of Cammaris. An isolated and insular city, Hellsport is bordered on the west by the Ocean Delb and the Natchmure Isles; to the east the mountainous Jags and Buctles rise and give way to a meager stretch of prairie that is subsumed by the Great Sand Sea.

The Mercantile or Port District at the westernmost edge of Hellsport terraces up from Damnaub Bay. Larger ocean-bound vessels crowd the inner bay, with local fishing and crabbing skiffs pushing in and out from the northwest arm. Trade with the Natchmure Isles and lands beyond has increased during the reign of the Princes as predation by pirates has significantly decreased. The Princes remain officially silent about their involvement with or antagonism toward the pirates, though the local population continues to speculate freely.

The closest city is Lamial to the northeast of the Great Sand Sea. Between Lamial and Hellsport is the small town of Crescent Village, which supports Wedgewood Academy, providing food, services, and instructors. As the Academy has suffered decline in the wake of the Princes, so has the village. Southeast of Crescent Village, the Wedgewood abuts the Buctles and thins into the Great Sand Sea.

Tucked into a pocket between the Buctles, the Great Sand Sea, and Margil Lake, the people of Margil Prarie farm and hunt. The Margilites have welcomed the recent establishment of Bronch, a Paltinian community founded in response to the religious repression of the Six Princes of Hellsport. The Paltinians of Bronch depend on the Margilites for food; in turn, the Palintians provide charms, remedies, and rituals to the Margilites.

The Princes of Hellsport have given the citizens certain licentious freedoms that were constrained under Paltinian theocracy. Largely these are freedoms of the body: freedom of movement after dark; freedom to consume all types of meat, alcohol, and drugs; freedom to choose marriage or not, regardless of gender, and the provision of polygamy licenses. Freedoms of the mind have also been granted: the right to literacy and debate; freedom to consume mind-altering or -enhancing drugs; freedom to freely research and practice conjuration, abjuration, and augmentation; and the establishment of Shadow and Lantern Academy of Summoning.

Oh Vannilisp Tar,

In a word, no. I don’t believe you ever laid eyes on the Princes during your time in Hellsport. From what I understand, most of your hours were spent in gibbering revelry as you staggered between poniam dens and liquor pits in High Ock. Besides, your sister has already completed several sections of the Hellsport edition; she has told me that you and she planned to collaborate, but after your draft, which is at least erroneous and probably offensive to the majority of Hellsportans, I have decided to depend solely on Bannia’s material.

I trust that this will not cause family problems. If it does, Bannia has my support at this juncture.

Do not forget that no small measure of your fame comes from more sober, considered material you’ve written for Bousprint. Please be aware that I still hold your critical analyses of Raspician martial arts in high esteem; perhaps after you’ve recovered from your latest excesses, you could return to such material.

I Am,

Asuna Breand, Editor-in-Chief, Bousprint


Please find attached a first draft of the introduction to Traveler’s Handbook: Hellsport. I anticipate your comments and criticism, but bear in mind that I mean no insult–I believe that I qualify my criticisms of the consistent obesity of the rulers. They are leeches, one way or another. Perhaps I should work that image into the rewrite.

I Remain,

Vannilisp Tar, Traveler

Hellsport: An Overview

Reasonable travelers do not come to Hellsport. Respectable citizens of the Southlands have no reason to visit Hellsport. Hellsport: the name is enough to ward away the sane. This is by design, and the design is formed by the action of history.

This salted city on the westernmost finger of Cammaris wasn’t always exactly this way: corrupt, eaten, pillaged by a cabal of fat wizards. But one does not speak this way of the rulers of Hellsport–no, they are the Princes of Hellsport, formerly the Princes of Wedgewood, formerly students of Wedgewood Academy, when such a place existed except in name.

I’ve been to Hellsport. Before it was Hellsport, when it was Jannyn, a city consecrated to Paltin and governed by the Paltinian Virtuous Codes. And it was stuffy, and the bells rang at every hour, then fell silent at dusk, and the Dark Patrollers came on duty and curfew was imposed at the rising of the Six Sisters every night except for the sixes.

Jannyn then, Hellsport now, is a city of superstitions. I’ve been to Hellsport since the Princes have instated themselves. I’ve witnessed the reversals: from discipline to debauchery, from sanctimoniousness to sacrilege. But the superstitions stay: the power of numbers, the selling of charms in the streets, the prayer beads and fasting and blood sacrifice and cannibalism–it’s all of a piece, you see. Superstition, stupidity, and nowhere is the light of reason. No science as you see in the colleges of Nocren, Badtisof, and the southeast Cammarisian cities now that the Iba Divide has been bridged. No technology.

An abundance of superstition. But I am being unkind, for superstition is fertile ground for breeding power. And Hellsport, formerly Jannyn, craves power. The city itself does: the citizens, bent with holy books or salacious with vampiric dreams, decline themselves to empower their rulers.

And notice how the rulers have always been fat–not in a healthy way, not in a way that suits the powerful or beautiful, but in a corrupt, uncontrolled way. The Priests of Paltin and their figureheads were never robust. The so-called Princes of Hellsport hide their bulk in shadows and indigo robes. This is pompous bulk, excess in excess of excess. And one wonders; for all their proclamations, mere blood and bone and essence of shadestuff could not stuff them so. I think they are eating their citizens.

I’ve been to Hellsport. I’ve survived, but I’m famous and benefit from a level of social immunity. I’ve seen the princes and, as a child, saw the priests. They do not interest me, so let me set them to the side.

Let us visit Hellsport and mingle with the unfortunate citizenry, the poor souls and fools. But not all are poor; perhaps most are not fools after all. People live in Hellsport; they struggle and laugh and work, play, love, and rest, despite the dour political climate and the tyranny of gluttons. How much superstition holds them? And how long can superstition hold? Let us consider.