They call it Petan—but seldom aloud, and never at night. It lies where the jungles of the Old World rot into shadow and the Horseclan steppes rattle with bone-dry winds. To the mapmaker, it is a borderland. To the wanderer, it is a grave. Merchants lower their voices when its name is spoken. Monks burn incense thrice over before crossing the rivers. And still the roads draw the reckless, the curious, and the cursed.
Those who enter Petan often vanish. Those who return are never the same. They bring tales of drowned cities that whisper through the tide, pagodas that sing to themselves in broken chants, and dynasties that refuse to sleep though centuries weigh heavily upon their bones.
Key Haunts of Petan
The Cradle of Still Waters
A city drowned, its spires leaning like broken teeth above a black mirror. Barges drift without oars, bearing no passengers but the dead. Stare into the waters long enough and you will see not your reflection, but the memory that will drown you.
The Temple of a Thousand Vows
The ruin coils upward, carved with naga that seem to writhe when struck by moonlight. Once, monks bound karma into talismans here. Now, only the oathbreakers walk its halls, mouths stuffed with the vows they betrayed. They ask visitors to make promises—and they punish those who keep them.
Banthak Market
On the edge of Horseclan country, lanterns sway above a marketplace that should not exist. Here, one can purchase pickled spirit-fruit, rusted heirlooms that still bleed, or charms to keep the Krasue at bay. Half of it is tourist trickery. The other half is not.
The Ghost Pagodas
Stupas crumbling beneath strangling fig roots, where monks once bound demons not with banishment but with burial. Now the wards are failing. Wind through the cracked reliquaries carries a chant—half prayer, half lullaby. The villagers say something is waking.
The Bloodstep Ziggurat
Older than memory, older than names. It drinks moonlight like wine. Some say jungle gods feasted here before men learned to write. Now, vampire cults and dharma sorcerers gather on its steps, drawing strength from the stones that still reek of sacrifice.
The Living Shadows of Petan
Decay is beautiful: Vines choke palaces, orchids bloom from skulls, and rot perfumes the night air.
Karma is honest: Every cruelty echoes. Mercy may kill you, but it is the only key to rest.
The past will not sleep: Graves grow shallow here; history claws upward.
Spiritual corruption: The same robe may hide monk or monster, and enlightenment can burn as cruelly as damnation.
Cosmic indifference: The jungle has no hatred for you. But when it swallows you, it will not grieve.
Whispers of Petan: The Things That Walk When the Sun Sets
“Listen, child. The jungle does not hate you. It simply remembers more than you can bear. These are the ones who wander there, the ones I have seen—or thought I saw. If you hear their names, know that you are already in their shadow.”
1. The Starved Dead (Specters & Wraiths)
“They rise from broken temples, eyes hollow as clay lamps gone cold. They do not hunger for flesh, but for the breath that fogs on the night air. Step too close, and they will drink the warmth from your lungs until your soul follows.”
2. The Flying Heads (Krasue)
“Lantern light is not always lantern light. Sometimes, it is a face—still smiling—dragged aloft by its own entrails. The merchants at Banthak Market will tell you they can cage them. But cages do not hold the hungry.”
3. The Coil of Forgotten Vows (Spirit Naga)
“I once bowed before a serpent carved in stone. When I raised my head, it breathed. The naga remembers every oath made beneath its gaze, and it punishes every promise broken. Its coils are long enough to reach into your dreams.”
4. The Blood Drinkers (Vampires)
“Do not climb the Ziggurat when the moon is full. The stones run red, as they always have. There, pale lords whisper scripture with fangs, and the spawn of their feasts prowl below. They offer eternity, but eternity is thirst.”
5. The Smiling Giant (Oni)
“Ah, beware the merchant whose eyes twinkle too brightly, whose laugh rolls too easily. At night, the smile stretches, and the claws unfold. The Oni feeds not only on flesh, but on the years you thought were yours.”
6. The Sisters of Rot (Hags)
“I heard them at the Ghost Pagodas, voices sweet as honey, promising the wards would hold. But I saw their hands—knotted, blackened, dripping like old fruit. They keep their promises only to the worms.”
7. The False Lanterns (Will-o’-Wisps)
“On drowned streets, you will see lights bobbing, soft and inviting. Do not follow them. They are not guides, but lures. They feed on despair—and they know your name before you speak it.”
8. The Tiger in Monk’s Robes (Rakshasa)
“A holy man welcomed me with incense, prayers, and tea. I drank, and tasted iron. When the wind shifted, I saw his striped face behind the mask of flesh. The Rakshasa does not die when you kill it. It dies only when it is done with you.”
9. The Snake Kings (Yuan-Ti)
“In the roots of the temples they coil, neither man nor beast. They say the world was theirs before gods breathed upon it, and they mean to take it back. They promise salvation, but every prayer hisses.”
10. The Lingering Ones (Ghosts)
“Of all the horrors, the simplest are the cruelest. The ghosts do not want you dead. They want you to finish what they could not. But beware—when you take up their burden, you do not lay it down. Not in life. Not in death.”
“Now you know, child. If you still walk into Petan after hearing this, then perhaps you deserve what waits for you there. Or perhaps… you are already one of us.”
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