Khythn

''In the deepest chasm and the darkest abyss, the Mother's many eyes fall upon us. It is beneath her eternal vigil that we prove we are never again prey.''

- An exerpt from the Widow Mother's prayer book

Khythn'mizz'ryr
"Mother's Heart" in Undercommon, the capital city of Khythn stands as a monument to both drow supremacy and hubris. Eternally in flux, the city's landmarks crafted in homage to a noble house only often stand for as long as the house in question retains power. The beloved opera house that may have stood for decades is just as likely to be torn down as the gaudy statue of House Am'tiel's matriarch erected the day prior. Each new monument mirrors the architectural majesty of the last, albeit with minor alterations to suit the designer's personal style. The final result in the city is that the only constants are the immense, jagged pillars that stretch clawed fingers toward the ceiling of their vast cavern.

Towering as their spires may be, none but cathedrals of the Widow Mother and the royal palace itself may ascend from floor to ceiling. Wispy silver strands of spidersilk are such a constant within the city that it is more strange to find a street without a few ephemeral threads wafting along it. Their weavers are equally as plentiful, with spiders ranging from tinier than a thumb nail to as large as a house found in every corner of the city. As intelligent as any Khythian, their arachnid neighbors are afforded many of the same rights as the nation's humanoids and held to the same standards. It is just as common to find a monstrously sized tarantula ferrying a howdah full of citizens up the side of one of the spires as it is to avoid stepping into every street's designated webways. One would not wish to impede the eight-legged traffic, after all.

Webways span the distance between each and every pillar in carefully coordinated bridges that mirror the stone counterparts they dangle alongside. Though no such stone bridges touch the surface of the royal palace, every inch is shrouded in a silken embrace that extends its silvery tendrils out to grace all the spires of Khythn, ensuring no one is beyond the crown's reach.

Eclipsed Sea
Circling the sprawling metropolis of Khythn'mizz'ryr in a crescent of near-endless murky depths rests the Eclipsed Sea. Its tides lap at the feet of the city, the lowest levels of which always host an inch or more of its briny waves, but never seem to flood. The waters are far from stagnant, for the far-off cascade of hundreds of thousands of gallons of water can be heard as a soft whisper from within the city itself. Yet, despite all of their efforts, no explorer or ship has ever returned from expeditions across the sea to tell of what the furthest reaches hold. Whether the beasts that lurk beneath the waves, the unpredictable waves, or something more sinister claimed them, none can say.

Pit of Az'gormir
In the center of a vast stone plain stands two prominent oddities. The first, a black marble plateau hundreds of feet tall and nearly a mile wide that juts up out of the earth in the very center of the plain. The second, a perfectly circular chasm barely a hundred feet wide with sheer walls that descends miles below the ground. Upon the former resides the Az'gormir clan of duergar within their ancestral keep, carved and built up from the very marble plateau that they live on.

Massive stairs industriously sculpted from the side of the plateau opposite the pit stand as the only mundane means to ascend to the castle. With its back wall set to the empty air at the edge of the plateau and pit both, Keep Az'gormir takes up barely half the plateau's surface, leaving any would-be invaders ample room to weather fire from archers, trebuchet, and more. A fact that the duergar are quite proud of, given the ruined seige engines and shattered bones of their drivers that languish before their gates. An appropriate warning to any who mean to do them harm, the dark dwarves say.

From the roof of the cavern above the keep, a waterfall of magma spills into a carefully prepared basin in the central courtyard. The basin drains through an intricate series of steel pipes that carry it throughout the castle, providing light and warmth to all within. Further, the lava flow is instrumental in crafting the wondrous metalwork that the duergar and their dwarven cousins are famous for.

The pit itself is said to be the burrow of a legion of eternally hungering beasts with rubbery flesh that fly on black wings, but no living being can say for certain that they have seen such a creature firsthand. Just the same, all sentient races who dwell in the Darklands are careful to make regular offerings at the pit. Those who have earned little more than a swift death are cast into its depths, in the hope that their flesh will placate the vile things for just a bit longer.

Government
Khythn is ruled at all times by a Queen, the current ruler being Queen Lascek'vei Shrev'red'ryc. A shrewd, severe drow of unfathomable beauty, Queen Shrev'red'ryc rules her kingdom with an iron fist and brooks not even a hint of trespass upon her people or throne. Beside the Queen on her Silken Throne often sits a Consort and a Regent, but neither hold any true power. All decisions are made by the Queen or delegated to trusted advisors. Supporting the queen in various capacities are innumerable noble houses that rise and fall in power with every new power play.

While men may hold positions of power, it is an extremely rare occasion when one rises to the top of any organization. More than one token man in any form of power within a generation is seen as a great oddity.

Economy
Masterfully made and infinitely intricate textiles are the primary export of Khythn, each one woven upon immense spidersilk looms. All manner of finely tailored objects, along with myriad other exotic goods found nowhere but the Darklands, are freely exchanged with their trade partners. Hearth, Stralova, and Nytharial hold trade agreements with Khythn, but it is not uncommon to see a drow merchant in any major settlement peddling unusual goods. Except for Jörvask. Never Jörvask.

The Widow Mother
While atheism is still (rarely) a belief in the Darklands, nearly every native puts their faith in the Widow Mother. Said to be a spider of such great size that the Darklands were formed out of her shed carapace, Khythians believe that every boon and bane is hers to bestow. The fact that the layout of the Darklands almost perfectly mirrors the shape of an enormous spider certainly lends weight to their claims. The clergy of the Widow Mother, or the Widows as they are known, are a two-fold organization outside their religious beliefs. Their most obvious contribution to the nation is their skill in raising, tending, and nurturing the spiders that work as beasts of burden in Khythn. Carved exclusively from the immense stone pillars that stretch from floor to ceiling, cathedrals of the Widow Mother are unmistakable thanks to their open roofed design. It is a rare occasion that arachnid traffic on the ceiling of their churches is not just as busy as foot traffic from humanoids.

The other, less immediately obvious function of the church is their status as the nation's primary form of healthcare. All ill, injured, and infirm find themselves at the doors to the church of the Widow Mother sooner or later and almost never is one turned away. Though any services provided by the church are free of charge, it is a social faux pas of the highest degree not to give something. The desperate and destitute are often forgiven of such cultural sins as their need is great.

Culture
Khythians consider social class first and all else second, with most every action taken by individuals and groups alike an effort to either increase or maintain one's social standing. The desire to ascend is a constant struggle that encourages a thinly veiled cutthroat society. To make overt, bloody plays for power is a taboo of the highest order, of course. Murders in the streets would only serve to destabilize Khythn. Only the Queen herself is allowed to crush would-be usurpers under her iron heel; all others must abide by the unwritten rules of Khythan decorum.

Queenly Aspirations
All Khythians hold lofty goals of lounging upon the Silken Throne with all the lux and pomp such a station should offer. With the church of the Widow Mother always accepting volunteers new and old, only the most downtrodden give up on trying to better their standing in some way. This eternal battle for dominion over one another in an effort to transcend castes is indoctrinated into Khythians practically from birth and serves to weed out weakness. Such deeply rooted desires come with a caveat, however. Men find their attempts to climb the power structure of Khythn quickly plateaus in most circumstances. One could say that, after a certain point, they hit a glass ceiling that is not present for women of equal standing. The only major exception to this all-encompassing rule stands in the rank and file of Khythn military.

Warmongers
A sense of nationalism runs so deep among the Khythan citizenry that some (quietly) say that it is little more than systematic narcissism. When the din of such dissenters grows too loud, they are quickly taught the value of discretion by the long arm of the Khythn military. Of the three branches of the Khythn Armed Forces (KAF), the Wanderers take the most pleasure in quelling uprisings. Deadly assassins and masters of the shadows, Wanderers are renowned and reviled across the Darklands and surface alike. The Huntsmen make up the bulk of the KAF and police every corner of Khythn'mizz'ryr's borders, acting as footsoldiers and police officers. Nearly all Huntsmen are male, with the occasional female officer to keep her underlings in line. Fleshwarped drow crafted into a twisted reflection of the Widow Mother make up the third arm of the KAF, the Weavers. This prestigious organization is reserved solely for driders and remains one of the few means by which men can attain any true power in Khythn society.

Divine Sculptors
In a land where cosmetic magics to nip, tuck, and perfect one's looks are plentiful, the drow have mastered the art. One of the most prestigious titles one can hold outside of government is that of the Fleshwarpers, as their body altering arts are nearly worthy of worship in their own right. Temples of the Widow Mother always feature at least one senior Fleshwarper within their walls to teach those with the skill and interest in their craft. Such venerated artisans have even been known to mend grievous wounds, such as the loss of limbs on occasion, though these instances are rare. Those whose bodies are restored in such fashions are nearly always considered blessed or destined for greatness afterwards.

Fleshwarpers that do not hold office in the many churches across Khythn, and even many of those that do, pursue their craft with a singleminded zeal bordering on obsession. An obsession that can often produce horrific results in the form of fleshbroken mutations that are either corralled for use by the KAF, put on display by private or public collectors, or (most often) cast out. There are a great many dank, dismal tunnels for such vile creations to lose themselves in, after all.

Prodigal Return
A vocal and slowly swelling faction within the Khythn drow have begun to make themselves known within the nation soon after accepting the Az'gormir duergar as citizens. Calling themselves the Tanglewebs, they preach a return to what they view as the lost values of their people. Aggression, nationalism, and xenophobia are their platform as they see the introduction of so many "lesser" races to their beloved home as anathema to what any self-respecting drow should stand for. While their numbers remain relatively few, they are a common enough sight within Khythn'mizz'ryr that every citizen has heard their calls to action asking, "will you stand with us and take back our home, warrior?"

Drow
The most predominant denizens of the the nation of Khythn, drow have lived in the Darklands for as long as recorded history. If the size and strength of their nation is any indication, they will not be going anywhere anytime soon.

Duergar
After their flight into the Darklands thousands of years ago, what once was the dwarven clan of Gormir eventually became duergar. While it took years of brutal warfare, the Az'gormir clan was eventually recognized as a member of the nation of Khythn recently enough that the scars are still fresh for both sides.

Svirfneblin
Twice as hideous as they are fiendishly clever, the dark gnomes are accepted into Khythn with open arms and many closed doors. Their expertise with all manner of magical experimentation and "science" as they call it is more than welcomed. But no self-respecting Khythian would dare call a Svirfneblin a friend to anyone but other Svirfneblin. Assuming they were able to befriend a dark gnome in the first place, of course.

Darkfolk
As much of a rarity as the Darkfolk are anywhere else, they are understandably plentiful within the endless vaults of the Darklands. Fiercely insular and xenophobic, the Darkfolk have long allied themselves with the Svirfneblin. Rarely does one see the Darkfolk without a dark gnome lurking in its shadow.

Threats
The threats of the Darklands are many and ever-present, in the form of cave-ins, carnivorous flora, territorial fauna, and worse. Except in rare ventures into the deepest vaults of the earth, the most plentiful and pressing concerns for would-be adventurers come in the form of the humanoids (or post-humanoids) that dwell there.

Khythan Drow (CR 5-12)
Between the back-alley skirmishes among rival houses, shady plots of nefarious nobles, and violent displays of the Tanglewebs, the native dark elves are an easily overlooked threat that can be end of many an adventurer.

Gormite Duergar (CR 7-10)
The wounds of thousands of years of battle between the drow and Gormite clan are still fresh, leaving tensions at an all-time high. Never mind that duergar have never been particularly welcoming to outsiders of any race.

Sporelander Svirfneblin (CR 1-4)
Just as mischievious and twice as conniving as their surface-dwelling cousins, earning the ire (or worse, the curiosity) of a svirfneblin is a concern for every creature.

Fleshbroken Mutations (CR Any)
The twisted creations of the Fleshwarpers that have escaped or been released into the sewers prowl the many tunnels of Khythn, preying on the unsuspecting and unwary.