A Strange World: The Strength of Empires [IC | Closed]

by **Olthenia** » Sun Apr 28, 2019 1:44 pm

Fᴀsᴛᴀǫᴜɪ

Queen of the Skazahad Delta
________________________________________
The First Matriarchate of Kemkasa
The Fourteenth Day of the Arch of Reeds, Year 494 of the Common Era

Lives of quiet prosperity are the lot of the Fastaqui. From wisest Crone to humblest fishwhife, the arches of the year pass in uneventful bliss. The art of preserving meat and mead, fish and fowl is still a topic of discussion amongst wise mothers - one pursued with the languid certainty of sunsoaked cats. In time, there is consensus. And joy. 'Ere the Arch of Feasting has passed, new symposiums are held on a delightful new topic: the formal art of lending skill to unskilled labor - that many might work under the guidance of one. In distant Karowa, the mountain highlands bear witness to a festival in honor of the Beloved. With feastfires lit and voices raised in song, many thanks are given for the generous blessings of this year's goat herds. In the sunscorched mountain highlands, even swarthy farmhands grow fat.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Sun Apr 28, 2019 2:07 pm

The Arameri Dominion

The Curinir walked into the wizard tower, followed by an entourage of hooded mages. He carried with him a heavy spellbook laden with ancient spells written in the Age of Ascent. Spheres of sunfire floated in the summoning room, illuminating the circle that adorned the center of the wooden floor. The wizards gathered around the summoning circle the air ripe with anticipation. The Curinir spoke to his fellow mages about the responsibility that rested on their shoulders.

"Wizards you know the task that has been bestowed upon on us to summon the spirits of old, to aid us in our scholarly endeavors, bring your knives out so that we may perform the ancient rites."The Curinir opened the spellbook carefully. Paper was a rare resource, worth its weight in gold and this ancient spellbook was used by the wizards of the Magnum Opus which spoke volumes on its fragility. He coughed from the cloud of dust that erupted from the arcane pages, and slowly chanted the spell from the text of the book. It glowed with arcane energy and the words floated from the book and danced around him stars of ancient writ and power.

The Wizards cut their hands with their engraved knives, and let the blood drip into the center, it glowed crimson fire in the circle. A ball of fire erupted from the, and a great spirit emerged from the portal. He was seven feet tall and wore mage robes and a hood, as well as a crown. The Elven wizards where astonished to see that the old Wizard King was elven as they were. Such was the power of religious conviction the Arameri had come to believe that those of the Magnum Opus who died before the Transcendence was claimed by Auri-Al and became Tavári or elvish spirits.

The Wizard-King stood tall and proud in front of the mages. He was known as Archmage Severus before his ascension to the Throne of Skulls in the Age 358. He led Xcotl in battle claiming the mantle of victory over the Midnight Barbarians more than a century ago. A wise man who was at the forefront of arcane innovation and single handily led the advancement of magic as leader of the Magnum Opus. Few on this earth could claim to speak to such a historic and larger than life figure.

Converstations with a Spirit

"You have summoned me, the spirits often speak of you Arameri the Chosen of Auri-Al,I have high expectations for you Elves" The Wizard King stated in a fatherly tone. The Curinir was shocked most spirits talked in a cryptic tongue that belied their otherworldliness but The Wizard King spoke with fluency as if he was still alive. Such mastery over his being showed a strong will and sense of self that very few could make a claim of both in the world of the living and dead."Yes, Wizard King, we have summoned you so that you may aid us in our studies you where a powerful sorcerer and influential poet-warrior thus we believe that your wisdom can be of infinite value."

"Very well I suppose I can stay amongst the living for a time, but Atherius calls for my name, and I have my own destiny to weave" The Wizard King said. With that, the spirit would stay amongst the Arameri bestowing knowledge to the best of his abilities. His wisdom was worth two thousand scholars it seemed, as their research reached new heights. The Wizard King himself was a strong spirit who stayed longer than most ghosts were capable of not only helping in scientific endeavors but also advising the Queen on how to best run the realm.

Soon he returned to Aetheria, where he was performing his own research into the arcane. The Elves wished him farewell and promised to summon him again once they had the means to. Thus ended the fascinating tale of the Wizard King who walked the earth once more.

by **The Empire of Tau** » Sun Apr 28, 2019 9:12 pm

New lore on Xcotl will come very soon. In the next turn, very likely.

by **Nuxipal** » Tue Apr 30, 2019 1:43 pm

Kingdom of Nekhen (Kingdom of the Aslani)

Year 433, the Eleventh Year of the reign of High Queen Khalida

The Kingdom of Nekhen lies dormant for much of the year as the desert sands slowly calm down. While the sun still shines above, the people have settled into a state of work as they once more begin to see the fruits of their labor. The start of a patrol program outside of Khasut seems to be a way forward for the needy artisan quarters. Meanwhile, in the city, the Archives are coming along very well with estimates putting its completion only a year away giving hope to the whole of Nekhen for its benefits that will be brought to the Kingdom.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Wed May 01, 2019 3:47 pm

Stalheim Hierarchy

The Windmyre Plains, Steelsworn
21st of Swordbight, Year 494 of the Common Era

Under the emissary the flanks of the mighty beast shuddered, its breath heaving in and out in the rhythm of the four great legs which carried the stallion eastward. In his saddle the ageless man bent low over the horse's clean-cut black mane, face barely above the straining neck of the creature, nostrils full of the tang of hot sweat under the remorseless sun. The rushing of the wind of the pair's passage was all the pale-faced man perceived, and yet unconsciously his hearing strained against the cacophony, seeking a sound that he knew not well; sails cracking on the stiff gales.

He did not hear it - the coming of the Cloudpride - far more he felt it. In an instant the sky was blotted out, and the warmth of day on the back of his head receded. And then the shadow was gone, racing on ahead of him almost as if the galloping horse were standing still. With a sigh Lord Glozell sat up in his saddle, working the kinks out of his spine, and his coursing stallion felt its master's relaxation. With obvious relief the steed slowed, paced dropping to a canter, then a light trot. A fond pat for the side of its neck; few were finer horseflesh than those owned by Glozell Springsinger, and it had run as hard as a man could expect. A cool rub down and fine oats for supper, certainly deserved.

Back the drifting vessel turned, its pilot perceiving the contest was concluded. As a scudding storm-wind it cracked, sails catching the setting sun of the summer heat fondly in shades of purple and red. Tiny it seemed in the distance, but swelling to several times the scale of a man as it approach - a smiling warrior in thick leather with hair of fiery crimson standing on a precarious platform amidst rows of rigging and light cables.

His words were nearly snatched away by the breeze as the soldier brought the contraption in to land, but their tone and intent barely cut their way through the howling gale.

"Is that the best you have Glozell? I did not know you were bringing your oxen to race, or I should not have bothered with the extra sails."

It was lighthearted banter, and interpreted as such. Torval Nemtsov was not a man given to bitterness or harsh words, though his friend's tongue could be as sharp as a word before battle when required. Glozell took the high road, and merely nodded with a hearty laugh.

"If you have need of refreshment and have the skill, my heifer is fit for milking - though I fear you may only gain butter for your time, so hard she has run in pursuit of your wyrd machine."

Down came several ropes, and after casting a glance about the scion of House Springsinger fastened one to a stump that had lain nearby. The devices from the Spire of Steel were not exactly fragile, but it would not do for the winds to take the machine into the aether with no easy means of recovering it. That would be both inconvenient, and awkward to explain to the Hierarch, how his son lost a fabrication which had cost more than many military squads could hope to earn in their entire tours of service.

"I don't suppose you have another one in the offing, Master Nemtsov? The Maladons would faint with envy to see such a machine race in the arena."

Down the rope ladder the youth nimbly swung, pausing for a moment with furrowed brow and scowl at the question before alighting with acrobatic grace on the grass.

"Flog more rocks out of the miners of the Northern Vale, and you may have one yet. Flog not, and you will have to wait on the leisure of my father."

by **Saxony-Brandenburg** » Wed May 01, 2019 5:45 pm

The Honori of Mara

Mara

Divera

by **Ralnis** » Fri May 03, 2019 10:58 am

Laosoon

With the next migration of slaves that came from the Empire. The Families have decided their fate long before they came to their region. It was there lives over the lives of the city. This was how it was meant to be as the Sandwalkers will hound anyone who approaches their region and the food alone was enough justification for the sacrifice. The Families themselves don't know if this would appease them enough to get them to talk or not but it was worth a shot.

As for the food situation, the first large-scale proto-cisterns were built. They captured some of the rainwater and with some storage. The concept itself was being made and the scholars believe that good things can come in sometime. The scholars have also been petitioning on building an archives as a way of storing more knowledge for them to use. With all the history lost from their tribal roots then such a thing would be very useful for them.

However, the main focus for this year is the appeasement of the Sand Demons. The sacrifice must be needed and some kind of deal reached.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Wed May 08, 2019 8:10 am

Turn 7 - Year 494 of the Common Era

Penance

It began in the early spring, a whisper of men desperate in poverty, hovels that betrayed the inattention of their lords. A new Goddess, the Scarlet Consort, who punished those who ate while children starved, struck down the mighty in the strength of their power, overthrew the wicked. Her hands were many, her people everywhere, and in the lands of the downtrodden secret societies began to form, seeking justice under her Veil.

-2 Public Order all Settlements

Events

The Bones of the Earth
In Steelsworn, first daughter of Kharbarinth, a strange metal has been unearthed in the great delvings. Though unknown to the people of the south, traders from the north name it gold. Resource revealed: Native Gold.

The Consuming Death
Dark days shadow Mara. A plague from the camel herders moves through the city - a wasting sickness which steals strength from limbs and sight from eyes. -1 Public Order. 1 Peasant has become Plagued - they have a small chance to perish every year, or heal, or spread on their disease.

Black Hearts of Memory
The Nekhen Kingdom convulses. From the north have come sojourners, travelers of many generations, bearing with them in train an army of undead. But their hearts are not the hearts of the people that now lead the Nekhen, dark and twisted, though still of the kindred of the Aslani, Sons of the Lion. Their words are fair, but seductive, and they reveal means to some in secret whereby the discarded and ill-needed may be deprived of life to prolong the existence of the worthy... no effect... yet.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Wed May 08, 2019 8:55 am

The Arameri Dominion

A song reverberated across the streets and halls of Myth Allanor a chorus of voices. Nothing was greater than the beauty of voice, even magic itself found itself an unwanted grave in front of the vaunted throne of music, and the chorus of the divine. It was the twenty-first of Sun's Height, and the Elves gathered and sang as one. Poems of love and loss, despair and hope, were sung by the Sons and Daughters of Auri-Al. The Lady of the Seas led this chorus her voice was the most beautiful of all the elves, and she was held as the wisest of all the elves for her voice, for it led many elves to weep at its sheer beauty, and depth. The overcoming of adversity and becoming stronger in the light of Auri-Al.

by **Nuxipal** » Thu May 09, 2019 7:25 am

Kingdom of Nekhen (Kingdom of the Aslani)

Year 434, the Twelfth Year of the reign of High Queen Khalida

The arrival of the travelers from the north comes at a shock to many of the people of Khasut. High Queen Khalida had recently given birth to a daughter, the presumptive heir of the Tjenu Dynasty. Her scholars promised her that these people from the north would bring nothing but trouble if they were permitted entry into the city or if they were given any kind of welcome. Additionally, there was rumors of a new cult forming in the lower districts. The last thing that Khalida needed was to deal with more heretical cults. With some luck, she wouldn't have to deal with these cultists as harshly as the Marani who had been in the city previously.

During a mission into the depths of the archives, which were being transported above ground to be more accessible to the scholars as a whole instead of being carved onto walls in the darkness that is the necropolis, Khalida decided that she would offer these Travelers from afar an audience to speak to her directly and to discover what they could truly offer the Kingdom of Nekhen.

by **Olthenia** » Fri May 10, 2019 8:36 am

The Many Mothers of Fastaqui

How do you know the difference between right and wrong?

"Hello everyone, and welcome to this episode of 'If I was There'! I'm your host, Hepzibah Falk. Tonight, the object that we're focusing on - the object that'll transport us back in time to a distant, or perhaps not so distant past - is a picture cast in solid copper. A plaque, if you will. Along its bottom is writing, and in its center is an intricate picture of ritualized punishment. I'm talking, of course, of the Fastaqui Punishment Plaques. Imagine, for a moment, that you are a citizen in ancient Fastaqui - that ancient walled city perched on the banks of the Skazahad river. In a time of perhaps shifting truths, some certainties remain constant - namely, the laws. Picked out before your very eyes are pictures of the laws of your people. What a citizen cannot, and must never do, and what punishments await those who fall foul of the law. Now, with me here is Dr. Marek Stangor, chair of Ancient Anthropology at the university of Nekhen."

"Hello there!"

"Kind of you to join us. So, Marek. What exactly are we seeing here?"

"Well Hepzibah, you've already said as much, haven't you? Pictures of punishments. A bit like a big, copper-colored comic book, in a sense. There's also something universal about this, in a sense. I mean, these pictures are so expressive and detailed, there's really no way for you to misinterpret them. When you see them, you just know."

"Agreed. No matter who you are or where you're from - when you see these plaques, it is clear what the law of the land is, so to speak. It is there before you very eyes - no excuses! But Marek, why did the ancient Fastaqui create these pictures? Not for entertainment value, surely?"

"Ha. No, indeed not, Hepzibah. Scientific analysis have traced the creation of these plaques to the end of the fifth century CE. A time, we know, of significant upheaval in this civilization's development."

"The fifth century... Is this tied that object we discussed just last week? The painted veil?"

"Yes indeed! The goddess known as the Red Consort, a clear rival to the area's own, homegrown deities, and her subversive influences had definitely made its way to Fastaqui around this time. And these plaques appear very much to be a response to that."

"So, it's basically an attempt by Fastaqui's government, the Many Mothers, to lay down the law? And in picture form, no less, for any and all to see?"

"Exactly. A way of using the universal language of words and images to maintain order and stability. Cast in copper."

"Interesting. But how successful were they in doing this, do you think?"

"Well..."

A Strange World: The Strength of Empires [IC | Closed]

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