A Different World: The Noble Cities [IC|Closed]

by **Pragia** » Thu Feb 11, 2021 2:03 pm

The diviners of the will of El'es would gather in their shrine, murmuring of the events which had occured. The men sent to the quarries were abducted without a hint to their whereabouts. This was not something the Council of the Seven were prepared to discuss, the worldly scholars having no explanation for the creatures of the night that the Kelskar found on their foray to the East. Evil omens followed over the months before: the location of wicked men who conducted dark rituals, similar to the peoples the Eleskar found themselves surrounded by. The rumors abounded among the disparate groups that their brothers were taken as slaves or sacrificed. Needless to say, the magister Halan would take this as a challenge.

The debates among the Council would be put to rest by Eleskar, the magister determining that his previous apprehension was misfounded. Those uneducated men would be trained and equipped with what could be mustered. Though they would not be prepared for warfare for at least a winter, the magister would not wait that long. He instructed for his Kelskar to take up bows meant for the soldiers and bring their deadly cunning to bear. They would hunt these savages like the animals they are. Traps would be laid with crude fiber nets, Kelskar waiting in the brush to ambush them. They would aim to capture them, interrogate them to determine their true size, their knowledge, their goals. This people would not recieve a name from the Eleskar, for they introduced themselves in violence and anger against them. If they were met by a larger party, they would begin to escape to the protection of the soldiers who were now stationed by the quarries to guard the men that worked them.

This matter of men would be solved by force, something the Eleskar were not innately gifted at wielding. But the matter of the figures reported at night would be of rumor and superstition in a matter of weeks after their sighting. The Kelskar were busy with this more pressing threat, but they would keep their eyes open, and the heightened concern and worries for those beyond the walls of the town would make it likely that they are again seen.

by **Ralnis** » Thu Feb 11, 2021 6:06 pm

Warcyfle,
Island of Lo

The sight of the outlanders was the first challenge to Grum. They spoke the trade language and they did the correct greetings for guest on the island. While the artisans were working on another hut district to keep the people happy the outlanders shocked the people with their deal. They wanted 100 sons for forced labor in exchange for bronze weapons and armor. They knew that the Aun'kal and them had bad history that was just patched up by his father Gu but there was still hatred in the waters.

Grum came to them and spoke.

"Dear honored travelers. As the chieftain of the Warcyfle, I welcome you to the island of Lo! To know that there is another neighbor among the Mirror Sea is truly a grace of the Storm Father. However I must decline on the deal for we do not know you enough and we are in dire need of labor ourselves. You see we are small, smaller than the Aun'kal and fighting them would be too brutal for us. Not to mention that my father had manage to patch things up with them in order to ensure trade and growth between our peoples."

He bowed to them," I humbly request that we first exchange information of each other and our cultures. Then I ask for a new deal. I believe you trade people's, yes? Could it be possible to buy the same amount of slaves for 4 or 5 wealth? Understand that such a thing would be a long-term investment and could benefit us and establish a long-term trade between our peoples."

While doing this however, Grum's mind was already trying to figure out how to deal with these outlanders of the south. These people who were just as advanced as their own naval prowess means that they would be more effective warriors. This is perhaps one of the people that the Aun'kal trade with but that would mean they were looking to exploit his people! It was the only means to get forced labor without giving up much. This could be bad if they refuse but he already said his peace and hope the response was good. However another part of his mind was looking to change the research for his people now.

It came back to the scholars who were now being made to change the focus to finding new ways to make Tesla Forging better. The attempt was made by their ancestors nearly a century ago but without the building of better shrines and focuses then they couldn't progress any further in the Path. Now with new minds being trained on the Path and becoming the new wise men of the village, he would need as many fresh minds to progress his plans. He already wrote them down on a wooden tablet after meeting with the new southern neighbors. If he was to make the Warcyfle great, he would need to think differently than they normally would.

by **Lazarian** » Thu Feb 11, 2021 10:18 pm

Corvus

Outer City District
Seventeenth of Harvesttime

It is the dead of night when Harron Truearrow wakes up, coated in cold sweat. He looks around, heart pounding, though there are no enemies to be found here. His wife, Julia, sleeps peacefully by his side. It is dark in the cottage.

Harron, like all of the Bloodred Pack, resides out beyond the inner ring of the palisade. There, many luxurious cottages are being crafted from logs of wood and thick thatch roofing. They are much larger than most of the simple shelters which dot the hill-home of Corvus, with spacious yards for gardens and goats to mingle within. Though the workers have worked long extra hours to be complete, there is no grumbling in this work.

When the army returned from the campaign against the Velendi, they were hailed as heroes. Triumphant conquerors and brave deliverers. The ones who had survived, anyways. Nearly half their forces had returned to the realm of the dead, taken by arrow or spear. Many women wailed and wept at the losses of sons, brothers, and husbands. And yet, for every tear shed, there were twice that number of shouts and cheers of joy at the returned captives. It was only fitting that the brave and the strong would lay their lives down for the weaker members of their pack.

Despite the splendid home and the admiration of the citizens, Harron couldn't shake the feeling that some things scarred the soul itself. It seemed as if every night he found himself back at the battlefield, with the slain faces of both friend and foe haunting his forays into the Dreaming World. Many other men complained of the same ills, though the oldest among their ranks said this would fade with time. Some claimed it was the souls of their dead enemies, seeking vengeance - though the Spirit-Guides claimed that very few beings could cross the thick border betwixt the Waking and Dreaming worlds.

Regardless of what it was, Harron would survive well enough. They had not been able to slay him while alive - they would not be able to take him from beyond the grave. The worst they could do was haunt his sleep. Rising from the bed of hides, he walked outside to stare upwards at their city, illuminated by the faint light of the Mother-Moon and the shimmering stars. In the distance, upon the Sacrificial Hill, the Four Pillar Shrine stood, casting long shadows over the landscape. This was their land. It was their home. And regardless of what harm may befall him, it was his duty to serve it for all the years he had remaining.

Such was the Way of the Wolf.

by **Olthenia** » Fri Feb 12, 2021 7:10 am

The Nirari Ancestral Goddess

Object Details
Title: Statue of the Ancestral Goddess
Period: Pre-Historic
Dynasty: Undetermined
Reign: The Nirari tribal-chiefs
Date: ca. 230–270 Hegemonic Count
Geography: From Daru, Western Foothills
Medium: Granodiorite
Dimensions: h. 210 cm (82 11/16 in); w. of base 47.5 cm (18 11/16 in); d. 95.5 cm (37 5/8 in)
Credit Line: Gift of Horsha Watregi, 1915
Accession Number: 15.8.2

The Ancestral goddess of the Nirari, whose bestial head with its small intense eyes and prominent sinewy jaws bespeaks her potential for violence, elicited great efforts of appeasement. This is one of some six hundred statues of the goddess created during the first part of the second century that either still stand in, or can be traced to, two main locales: the tribal mortuary complex at Kom-Katan in the hills west of Daru, and the Teroha Temple Complex at Shamar on the east bank of the Lycene river. This statue was most likely found at the latter site. It was long thought that Nirari’s tribal chiefs themselves had erected statues in both places, but today many scholars believe that originally the statues all stood at the Kom-Katan mortuary temple. There they formed part of the tribal chiefs’ massive statuary program. The Ancestral statues have convincingly been shown to have constituted a "litany in stone" that appeased the mighty goddess and invoked her not to use her more ruinous powers, thereby delivering the Nirari from illness and evil for a year.

Based on modern understandings of the litany, there may originally have been 730 statues, one seated and one standing for each day of the year. Moreover, it has been theorized they were arranged, along with other divine statues, across the giant courts at Kom-Katan to form a vast celestial map that served as the tribal chiefs’ eternal ritual calendar.

The mortuary temple of the Nirari tribes apparently began to suffer from rising groundwater not long after its construction, and statues and building materials within its precinct were removed to other sites. Many of the statues of the Ancestor thus had a second stage of life after their original deployment. The violent and powerful goddess was linked with another, lesser goddess - Muttar, who was worshipped in the Precinct of Muttar south of Teroha temple. Statues of the Ancestor had probably already begun to be moved to the Teroha temple complex by an as yet undetermined later date, as the two goddesses became more closely identified, and then a number of Ancestor statues at the complex bear added names indicating the attention of rulers of the Third Intermediate Period, when alternately fierce and gentle goddesses with bestial aspects, including the Ancestor and Muttar, acquired great religious influence.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Fri Feb 12, 2021 8:51 am

The Deepkin

Outskirts, The City of Bells
Eighth of Rain's Hand, Year Twohundred Thirty of the Reckoning

With an audible whump Lilith landed in the dirt, flat on her back. Stars danced in his vision, and for a few moments the air wouldn't come. Then a ragged gasp filled her lungs again, and her ears started working once more, the hoots of laughter and amusement from her squadmates only too clear. Why did she even want to bother with this wretched thing?

She knew. It was majestic, watching the riders parade before dawn, seeing how they effortlessly commanded the mounts with knees and a touch of the reins, how the finest archers made man and horse one to turn the dummies into pincushions at a canter. She wanted to be one of those men, one of those women. And if this roan gelding would cooperate, that was exactly what she was going to do.

The trouble was the magnitude of that if.

Horses bred out of the stock of the Maeras were not exactly known for being biddable. A few hundred years ago they had been stubborn mountain dwellers, slowly molded into beasts of the plains by generations of Deepkin trainers. They still retained much of their fire, as her last couple of days trying to break the roan she had been assigned had demonstrated. Theoretically gelding the beasts when they were still young prevented them from being as aggressive and unmanageable as the stallions which sired the herds - but Lilith would be switched if she thought her particular horse had any less snark in it than her battalion commander.

Dusting herself off, she leapt up with a grim frown on her face, ignoring the heckles. The roan frisked and whinnied at her, a mischievous air about it, almost as fresh as if she hadn't spent the last three hours trying to knock her off of its back. But sweat stained the flanks, and its belly was moving in and out rapidly. It was the advantage men held over these beasts. Her will was iron, and her body accustomed to long hunts, whereas the horse only fled at speed and lacked stamina.

Raising her catchpole loop, Lilith rushed forward, and before it could frisk away she was on the gelding's back once more. Once more, then, into the breach.

by **The Empire of Tau** » Fri Feb 12, 2021 9:45 am

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Fri Feb 12, 2021 10:08 am

Pillar of Varra
Varra, Urban District

by **The GAmeTopians** » Fri Feb 12, 2021 10:52 pm

The Republic of the Great River

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Sat Feb 13, 2021 11:46 am

Year 230 of the Reckoning
Turn 16

Zhai Cheng: Dark days. Only a dozen men have returned from the north, no loot or unicorns their province. They were ambushed they say, assaulted by wild wolf-men brigands while traveling through the mountain passes from the lands of the Nirari. Only a scant few have returned, and vengeance demands blood... of the raiders that are tormented, they will say only that their masters are fierce, and indeed they die to a man swearing that Zhai Cheng will burn for this indignity. The Huanca offer to harvest hematite for the Huang if four Wealth is paid for one hematite for the next ten years.

Daru: The enchanters, shamans, hedge-witches, and sorcerers of the Nirari present their rulers with a great innovation - the art of Runecrafting. The symbols they cut, on wood and stone and bone, glow with arcane power. How to channel this power is a mystery, but not as much of a mystery as it once was!

Velathrii: With aggregate of gravel, mud, sand, and other things of the earth, the Velathrii have created a hard substance which dries to the consistency of the very stones, but which may be easily shaped when wet to bond together stronger stones and bricks. In this manner may be raised high walls, and grand buildings, a new era for the wise sons of the Hills.

Eleskar: Several barbarians have the explorers hunted and slain in the woods - but the enemy is wary, and only a few were they able to separate from the foe's main encampment.

Warcylfe: The outlanders give their name as Ithoi, and say they come from a tropical land south, across the sundering sea. These men are buyers of slaves, not sellers, but they say that they can tell the men of the city that the Warcylfe seek servants and laborers, though they warn the price is high. They say that their people are traders and proud war-born, gifted by the One God with the will to dominate and rule all men.

Sorrowfree: A clever contraption shaped of hide and leather and many straps, the saddles for the camels which the Khortuun ride will hold warriors erect upon the backs of their beasts, allowing them to strike their foes at a gallop, a fearsome force no man will be able to resist!

Kharbarinth: There are many means by which men might measure the world - in spans, or colors, or what can be seen and meted out. The scholars of the City of Bells have formalized these measurements, with numbers and letters which denote abstract concepts. With these secrets things may be built cleverly, and complex constructions like arches might be created by the artificers. As men may be organized into councils to oversee areas of the city, so the Deepkin now understand as well.

by **Pragia** » Sat Feb 13, 2021 1:11 pm

The time had come for Halar's gambit to pay off. After two years of training, the warriors were ready to see their mettle tested. The peasantry had been shaped into the force which would impress the will of the Eleskar over the savages. The use of ritual and devotions which consumed the flesh of men was anathema, and the existence of such practices among their neighbors was untenable, especially after their consumption of the men of the Eleskar. Ghenar Harksa, the veteran warrior, would be the one to command the considerable force. Though the Kelskar were distinct from the warriors, they found themselves a kinship and unity in goal. This wild land to the east would be tamed, its secrets revealed, its creatures catalogued and understood.

They would set out, the Kelskar familiar with the land they treaded, where forests thinned and thickened, where outcroppings could provide redoubts and positions. The larger warrior column was in good spirits as they were told where to locate berries and animals which could supplement thier conjured loaves of Mana. Ghenar was of his usual belligerance, though tempered by the council's instruction. They were to break these people's resolve and incorporate them to the Eleskar, show them the light of civilization and banish the darkness of their brutality. The attempts of the Kelskar to capture enemies were largely unsuccessful, and while an understanding would be desired, they had been threatened by many neighbors, and would assume only the worst.

The warriors would heft stone axes and bows. The tool of the hunt was the closest thing that the Eleskar had to tools of war. The tactics Ghenar had planned was similar to the hunting they would use on predatory beasts. They would goad the enemy into lashing out, then surround them and subdue them. If these barbarians were smart enough to not lash out, then they would be harried by the Kelskar and warriors, who would abduct and strike at what they could, driven to breaking before a final assault to force their surrender.

Even as the warriors left, Magister Halan Eleskar would be implementing reforms. Not since the rise of Kelska to the council, the now aged explorer approving of this action to incorporate and enlighten their uncivilized neighbor, had the magi made any significant developments. Though the magister had a strong desire to see him transmit his mother's language to something more usable than unfired clay, he knew that his people's genius could be put to many projects. He would allow his council, most of whom now had councils of their own to inform their decisions, to posit other developments they would be willing to focus their efforts on.

The first was simple: to develop a standardization of learning, specific writings to be taught to coming scholars so that their knowledge bases could be similar and ideas could be more easily disseminated among larger numbers of pupils from fewer teachers. While apprenticeship would remain core to development of scholars, this training would allow for apprentices to know the basics of their craft before specializing under their teachers.

The second was ambitious and forward thinking: to codify the ideals of Agor'a, their god of justice into a set of laws, rules which could be applied by the magister through proxies without direct intervention. To detail what punishments would befit actions, and how to enforce it. This law would include stratification of the magi as the magister saw fit, seeing as there was little organizational structure.

The final embodied the dreams of the Eleskar. Theories on stone and how it could be controlled by the Magi. If their magic could direct stones toward their sources of power, could it be that they could make the stone itself follow their commands after sufficient rituals and imbument? This was a stretch of the abilities of the magi, but such an idea was enticing and attractive enough to draw two members of the council to pledge their studies toward it.

by **The Knights of Azorea** » Sat Feb 13, 2021 2:30 pm

Velathri, the Street of Oxen
Ultimaea - the Last Month of the Archonate of Kelvus and Clusien

"Hie and up you wet sack of roots! Off, off wi' ye!"

With a boot-print fresh on his roughspun cloak, a broad young man rolled out into the mud of the street. The grimaxing old shopkeep spat, and young Pulvo leapt groggily to his feet. He scraped the residue of a night's drink from his tongue and stumbled to his feet. His scarred face was impassive in the muggy, dirty heat of a hungover jungle-side morning. He was, by now, quite used to the prodding boots and fists of the occasional shopkeep. To think, years ago he'd've cut a man off at the waist if he'd dared speak to him so. He aimed a glare at the sky above the Suvaeum - he'd have stared at the miser's temple itself if it weren't impious to do such. Tulian Pulvo had no intention of proving the world right by winning his poverty from the gods.

He'd been a soldier - a strong and valiant son of Skithro. Not three years hence he'd marched out with Kelvus to put down the savages, and wept on the Kaevine way like the rest. He rolled his shoulders, and fell into a marching step along the side-road. He was strong, still - the cold and mud had not sapped the strength of his arm just yet - and he was proud of what he'd been. Where noblemen and priest's sons had died, he had lived on and fought. Yet now they were resting in the fields above, while he scrabbled in the mud, and slaved through public labour. Was Velathri not a city founded by men like him? For them? He grimaced as a twinge of pain shot up his leg where a sling-bolt had cracked the bone so it'd grown back half-odd.

-----

His bones ached. A day of dragging and hefting marble up and down the street of Urcanos had wracked his muscles. Worse, open land to sleep on within the walls was growing scarce. There was some pride in raising new edifices for the city, certainly - the street of smithies with its clean marble brick-work and black loam mortar was a sight to behold, even while its chimnies and anvils were yet missing. Warmth in heart, though, did not make warmth in blood. Pulvo huddled with other soldiers around cook-fires in alleyways, and the men talked louder and louder of their rage. The sons of priests and princelings sat in warmth while they, who had fought and grieved for the city, sat in the mud drinking riverwater. Some spoke, darkly, of how it would not last long. The Legium ignored them, and the Maphron seemed set to - if not for a handful of dissenting sons. With the term of the archons drawing to a close, the election of new men would mark a turning point - either the soldiers would get what they had fought to earn, or they would have to take it.

by **Ralnis** » Sat Feb 13, 2021 6:25 pm

Warcyfle,
Island of Lo

The Ithoi sounded like a warrior culture, just what Grum didn't want to here. Not only did they believe that their One God gave them the power to control over all men, they acted so it was true. No matter, their heathen strength outstripped both the Sons of Tesla and the Aun'kal. Grum had to bite his tongue or a raid could destroy what balance his father made before his death. It didn't matter as he needed to focus on the research and making sure the people were happy so far. He did much to lower the discontent and the new scholars were doing their best.

As the traders stayed for another year, he asked them if they would establish a trade outpost in Lo. Having both them and the Aun'kal would be interesting to gauge the reactions of the two and see how the region's politics were. The extra money as well would allow for the tribe to grow and prosper as well. This came with the building of a monument to the ancestors who served the Lighting God and for other adulthood rituals. Many people were expressing the concern to build more ways of getting more people. Some also wanted to try and get the slums turned into huts as well.

Grum knew that there was one way but with the distance of travel being so light. The small gift was not enough to tantalize the Aun'kal to joining the Island of Lo. He had to figure something out but he decided that sending an emissary to Dawn Singer asking if there was a way to deepen relations and become friends like back in the ancestral days. It would be a step in the right direction in trying to raise the prestige of the Warcyfle and maybe finding allies against these servants of the One God if they were going to be a problem.

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Sun Feb 14, 2021 3:10 am

The Land of Penithel

"We must send our striders south, in the Great Crater where there is much of the starsteel the Fiends had in their hands when they attacked, you saw how it could break through our own Sundrop armor, the tips of their spears and swords went right through more often than not. We must gather this for ourselves and learn how to work it like we know how to mold the sundrop from Oldland in the north. With these secrets our warriors will be much more powerful." The Blue King said to his Speaker as the stood leaned over a table in the Royal Hall with a crudely drawn map on drawn on a piece of hide.

"I agree, your highness." The Speaker, a portly man with, receding and grayed once brown hair and pale blue eyes replied, coupled with a courteous nod to the blue-painted middle-aged ruler of Penithel. "However, our warriors already stand ready and some of our skilled craftmen are already stringing up bows for them, soon they shall have armor and weapons as well and you saw yourself how many men came and answered the call. We have many more warriors that we had before. It would be wise to arm them and send our explorers to track the fiends down."

"I have every intention to track them down." The Blue King said, a frown behind his long, drooping mustachios as he glared at the Seneschal. "We shall bring our lost people back and we shall bring the heads of the Fiends back and mount them around our lands as a warning to any other villainous scum passing here, mark my words..."

by **Nuxipal** » Sun Feb 14, 2021 8:56 am

City of Daru
Year of the Ancestor 132

A new year dawns on the Nirari as the scholars and mystics have unlocked the people's first arcane tradition: Runecrafting. While the art itself is brand new to the Nirari and has yet to show any practical uses there are those within the priestly class that seek out answers in the divine, while others wish to look elsewhere for inspiration to how best to unlock the full potential of this craft. For the time being, it does seem that the Scholars of the Nirari, led by Serra who in the past few years has shown herself to be more than capable of ruling the city in the absence of First Teroh. There have been some calls from a few priests and scholars wishing for her to be supplanted in place of Teroh, but without support from the soldiers that Teroh is currently enjoying, that is just a dream of the scholarly classes.

Teroh has continued to be busy. Envoys being sent out across his networks. Stopping in all the major towns and cities to the south and west that they knew of. Eventually he found something worth his time. He gathered 100 soldiers and set off leaving Serra in command of the city once more. They took with them the siege equipment while other recruits were training within the city itself preparing themselves for the battles to come. With rumors spreading of barbarians in the mountains, it was only a matter of time before they spread themselves down the northern slopes and the Nirari would face them. This time, any raiding force would be met and shattered for the Nirari remember the time when the sacred animals were defiled and scattered.

by **Olthenia** » Sun Feb 14, 2021 9:25 am

The Healer’s Hand
Fourteenth Day of the Arc of Wandering Vines, the 232nd Year of the Star-Count

As the noon-horn yawned its welcome bleat across Sorrowfree’s flat roofs and mortared avenues – people smiled. Or laughed. Or wiped the days’s sweat off their brows. Or at least most did. To most upstanding canyon-dwellers, the song of the mighty noon-horn signalled the end of the day’s labours. But to others? Oh, its joyous yawn was but a new beginning.

Others, for instance, like the evening shift at the Healer’s Hand.

Gorga mo Noyal’s face had always had something of a sneer to it. Even now, in the midst of the recital of that day’s events – her pinched, brown features held a hint of matronly disdain. Her fellow devotees knew better than to remark on it, however – for that way lay a sure and safe way to a tongue-lashing. And there were better ways to start the evenings labours, surely.

“…And in the Blue Hut, Pyreg is the same as he was the day before. His ankles are yet swollen, but I think the bean-broth has had a restorative effect. His stool was firm, this morning.”

“Should we offer him another cup at the evening’s meal also?” Cortag mo Bont queried, and trailed a thoughtful finger through his shovel-shaped beard.

“Let us continue the treatment for another day, at least. If his intestines no trouble him by then, I’d say our job is done.”

Her attendees nodded at this, and Gorga noted with approval that young Herva – one of her newer colleagues, jotted marks on a clay tablet. The better to remember as they day went on. Although the written word was hardly a novelty amongst the Khortuun these days, it had yet to make its presence felt in all the nooks and crannies where the canyon-dwellers lived their lives. But oh, Gorga felt certain – it was coming. For where memory failed and frayed at the edge of details and long hours – words etched in clay had a permanence to them. Truth, unchanged, from shift-change to shift-change.

Certain benefits for all – especially the dedicated carers of the Healer’s Hand.

The Healer’s Hand was Sorrowfree’s grove of healers – where midwives, wound-tenders, child-carers and fever-singers could congregate and offer succor to those Khortuun in direst need of it. A clinic for the health and betterment of all, free of charge. Mostly. Be it night or day, evening or noon, one shift of attendees traded places with another – for to the sick who came to the Healer’s Hand required tending constantly. And each shift change, like it or not, was attended by a recital – when the Sister-Supreme of each ‘Wing’ of the Hand’s humble sick-huts gave testimony to the new shift. Such was business done at the Healer’s Hand – and the written word had yet no place there.

Such was life at the Healer’s Hand.

For now.

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Sun Feb 14, 2021 3:26 pm

Pillar of Varra
Varra, Urban District

"Why must I be denied my vengeance!" The Great Shaman roared as he slammed his fist on the table.

He was a grey haired elder, worn by age. His emotions, however were seemingly deceptive for his age, bearing his fiery temper and lively venge-fulfilling expression. Life still breathed and had not yet wavered, not since that day. Oh, how he wished to pay ever agony he ever received and return it upon those who had wrong him

Unfortunately for his study, he was not down. As he shoved various trinkets and designs off his table into the floor. Severely shattering upon impact. Its not fair! he roared on within his stubborn mind, why does the wisdom I seek allude me? He clenched his teeth at the humility one receives when they lack results.

"Are the spirits mocking us? Allowing us to war, but denying us our due? Denying us the wisdom we seek and distracting us with treasures? What must we do to have the spirits grant that of which we seek?" He mumbled angrily to himself.

He remembered that day. That long ago day, that it was all lost, but kept in the memory of those involved. His brother was slain that day, Ailpein, his older brother, who provided him and his family the means of life in Great Varra. Who was silently slain 32 years ago, by some archers who chose to hunt his brother as game. He swore that he would have his revenge, but as some mockery by mischievous spirits, he was born to be weak. So, he resounded if he was to make his vengeance it would be through the means of study, 16 years he had work, and no results bore fruit.

Was he a toy to the spirits? Something that was given a purpose, but no means to achieve that purpose? Or was he lost in vengeance losing his senses and being punished grievously by the spirits? Or worst- did the spirits find the situation in apathy- choosing to ignore the pleas of a old man who was denied his revenge? If he was not to learn the secrets of Oaths, then he will learn why he was denied the wisdom he sought.

The funding for research was granted this year, after much pestering and requests. Perhaps, by more direct communing with the spirits will inspiration and wisdom reach the scholars of fair Varra. That, they will finally know the means of the arcane that was promised to them by the spirits long ago. If Dùghlas Innes was not the one to discover oaths, then it will be his successors- so that his brother can finally rest in somber peace.

by **The Knights of Azorea** » Sun Feb 14, 2021 5:09 pm

Velathri, The Hill of Maphor
Ultimaea, The Last Month

Alius Caramnon, or Sulis (The Pure), as he was called, had been kept long at the Legium. As the father of the Caramnae, and a pure-born priest, it was his native duty to preside over the cleansing of the council's chambers. His iron carcanet, inset with raven's skulls, was sign of his seniority, if the white hair ringleted down to his waist was not proof enough. A servant, or perhaps a great grandson, helped him down from the Suvaeum along the Narrow Way, and then along the Via Hithos up to the next of the city's hills - the Maphor. As they went they passed new-hewn marble, and watched the wall, diadem of the city, glitter in the sunset. His old bones had covered the path thrice as an archon in his many winters, and he walked it with more surety than his helper, young and strong though he was.

A swift alighted on a marble eave as he passed, clattered its beak thrice, and his lips parted in a grimace. The omen was clear; Death was waiting. He knew it, of course, and had expected it decades ago, but he had come to resent the constant reminders. Still, dying or no he was needed at the Maphron. The walk up the Hithian Way, too, had been familiar to him since his youth, when he had walked through a much rougher city with his father. In recent years the mud and dirt had begun to turn to marble, and in those days of his youth it'd been barely present at all. Still, he walked on. He passed, in his going, a patchwork of city life. A pair of widows painted in ash, wailing before a mourning shrine. A young maid in green and blue pouring a libation, a veteran roasting taro over an alley-fire, and a peasant father supplicating at the door of a temple-house.

At last, old Sulis ascended the broader path up the Maphor. The sharp rise of the hillside cliffs cut off the city, and presented a small, raised space. In this simple clearing a space was carved into the stone. Polished by footfall and embellished with hides, insignia and the spoils of war, the chamber of the Maphron was open beneath the sky, and lit by a row of pyres to its left and right. Sat upon benches, in seats carved for their ancestors, the Princes, or Maphroi, was each of a known lineage, and each drew his prestige mostly by that token. The two archons sat apart on chairs of fine jungle wood, and presided over the meeting, while the others sat by tribe. Sulis was the last to arrive - some younger men snickered at his weary age, but the rest sat in silence. They could look imperiously at him however much they liked, but he had been archon thrice, a unique honour, and his hand had lead most of them to battle at least once. It was hard for a man who had given all the rest orders to regard himself as subject to the assembly.

On this day the matters before them were not so weighty as they sometimes were, but protocol demanded that all be present unless struck by plague or bound by sacred duty. On every topic, Sulis spoke first, followed by the rest in order of strict seniority, until the youngest could wear themselves out while the eldest had all but fallen asleep in the dying firelight. Each man who rose either spoke, or said simply "I agree" - this was protocol, not a rule, but it meant that any disagreement would have to be argued in turn. Debates could last till dawn, but the Maphron would always come to a conclusion. At a draw, a lot was drawn - but no draw had come about in many years already. In this debate, over building fitting houses for veterans, there was no debate and certainly no draw - no man of the Maphron was enough of a fool not to vote in favour, even if any of them had wanted to. Sulis did not fall asleep, in the gloaming hours. He sat firm, fists clenched tight around his staff, and he watched the young men. He watched their racing eyes, and saw their hearts in the fire.

by **The GAmeTopians** » Sun Feb 14, 2021 11:45 pm

The Republic of the Great River

The Home of Lachlan Lifesong, First Speaker of the 10th River Council
Midsommar's Day, Year Two Hundred and Thirty-Two of the River's Birth

The quiet creak of the door, wood on wood, was subtle but unmistakable. The new arrival peered in through the crack, at the long table that filled all but the entryway of the room - the dozen figures huddled around it, poring over countless parchments and engaged in murmured discussions, only served to add to the room's clutter. Not a one of them looked up from their work, despite her lack of subtlety - but Archon Kara Longstrider knew her colleagues better than that.

"Ahem," She cleared her throat loudly, and the room finally turned her way, knocked from their focus. Better get on with it, afore these louts get drawn back into their work.

"I've brought the reports from the artisans overseeing the wall construction, as well as the plans for the new housing district from the architect. Quite a talent she is, I must say." Kara retrieved the rolls of parchment in question from a case tucked under her arm, and began passing them out to those of her colleagues whom she knew would want to read them first. Her fellow Archons of the Hand would be interested, to be sure, but they had already received advance reports from their constituents - no, the Archon of the Blade and the Archons of the Heart would be much more keen on the proposals. The former had been complaining for almost the full decade of his service about the current, rather simple line of defense, and the latter quintet had been pushing for superior accommodations for all. Not that I can argue on that count, she smirked to herself. That rickety old cottage of mine could use an upgrade.

As expected, the whispers of discussion returned in earnest, and the Archons she had already identified were whispering excitedly amongst themselves. The Archons of the Mind, for their part, had already returned to their ponderings - they had been muttering about some strange "advanced counting" for several turnings now. Her task complete, Kara slid into her proper seat next to her colleagues, who returned her nod subtly. A thicker roll of parchments was withdrawn from her case, and she sighed. No rest for the weary in the River's Jewel.

by **The Empire of Tau** » Mon Feb 15, 2021 11:59 am

by **Lazarian** » Mon Feb 15, 2021 1:36 pm

400 Peasants, 100 Freemen, 100 Explorers, 200 Scholars, 300 Artisans, 240 Soldiers, 100 Slaves (1500)
Start: 0 Wealth, 10 Hides, 5 Stability, 3 Cassiterite, 1 Gold, 4 Timber
Citizens: +5 Labor, +2 Industry -4 Wealth, +1 Wealth
Slaves: [+2 Labor, +1 Food, +1 Timber]
300 Peasants: [+3 Labor]
100 Peasants: train as soldiers.
Artisans: Operate Rural District [+12 Food (2 base, +1 DC, +1 Selective Harvesting, +4 Gardens, +4 Paddock), +Hides]
Artisans: Operate Rural District [+8 Wealth (-8 Hides), +4 Hides, +8 Food (2 Base, 1 SH, 1 DC, 4 Paddock)]
Artisans: Operate Urban District [-1 Timber, -1 Cassiterite, +1 Tin]
Explorers: explore 1 Tile South, 2 Tiles West.
Freemen: train as explorers.
200 Scholars: research Shearing
100 Soldiers: [+1 Labor]
140 Soldiers: patrol. [Bronze Armor, 25 Composite Bows/75 Bows)
Other: 1 Food from Domestic Sources
Income: 11 Labor, 9 Wealth, 7 Stability
Constructing: Paddock (3/3 Labor), Paddock (3/3 Labor) Tanner (2/2 Labor, 0/1 Wealth), Tanner (2/2 Labor, 0/1 Wealth), Bronze Armor (2/2 Wealth, 1/1 Industry), Soldiers (1/1 Industry, 3/3 Wealth)
Expenses: 10 Labor (6 Paddocks, 4 Tanners), 9 Wealth, 3 Stability
End: 0 Wealth, 10 Hides, 9 Stability, 1 Gold, 4 Timber, 2 Cassiterite

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Tue Feb 16, 2021 9:19 am

The Deepkin

Outskirts, The City of Bells
Fifth of Chillwind, Year Twohundred Thirtytwo of the Reckoning

In teams the men moved, great blocks of stone at their backs upon the sledges. Drums beat solemnly from not far away, and with each sonorous beat the men strained at the long coils of bonded rope which each bore upon their shoulders. Inch by inch, foot by foot, mile by mile, the blocks moved across the landscape, a sinuous train of transports for the graven bones of the earth. Other men, wearing stoles denoting their educated states within the Kindred, supervised the stones as they arrived one after another at their destination.

With sweat and toil, blood and dust, a great aqueduct was slowly rising from the landscape. It would carry the waters of the river to far fields, to drench previously arid plains so that all abundances of maize, wheat, barley, blueberries, and more could flourish and fill the bellies of the dwellers of Kharbarinth. And when a thousand years from now the City of the Bells was no more, still the monoliths of stone would decorate the landscape, bringing water down from the high reaches of the Great River to quench the thirst of the lowlanders below.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Tue Feb 16, 2021 4:46 pm

Year 232 of the Reckoning
Turn 17

Eleskar: The assault upon the eastern barbarians proceeds exactly as the Eleskar planned - though no victory is without sacrifice. After luring the main enemy host out to battle the warriors fall upon it with aid from their comrades, and before the day is old the enemy flees before them. They were in greater numbers than the Eleskar, it turns out, and as the dead are mounded for burial the Eleskar count nearly seventy and five of their own as fallen, while the dead of the enemy are far more. Only a scant dozen have been taken, and they are wild, uncivilized, scarcely better than beasts. Moreover, however, the lost people of the Eleskar are found, enslaved in the enemy's encampment. A good day for the people of Ele. There is also plunder - the barbarians were shod in armor of gleaming copper, a hundred suits, fifty of which remain in good enough condition to be used by the men who overcame them.

Warclyfe: The Ithoi seem receptive to the idea of trade, but dubious of the profit over such a great distance as they say their home lies. Perhaps if Warclyfe becomes stronger or possesses a more advanced economy, there could be wealth for all in such an endeavor. The emissaries sent to the Dawn Singer mention that the Aun'kal are becoming numerous in the land, and that their chieftain seeks for new horizons upon which his people might spread. If the children of Tes'la could find such a land, the Dawn Singer would treat their sharing this knowledge with great gladness.

Sorrowfree: To the distant north the Mountains of Guard rise from the desert floor, and it is into these forbidding peaks that the men and women of the Khortuun range. It is cooler here, as one might expect, and after many days of journeying the explorers sight green plains to the east - verdant and wide, where an entire kindred could flourish. To north and west the mountains march, familiar and unbroken. In this wild country, untouched by men, deep veins of black ore, hard but beaded to the touch, can be found in the cliffs. Copper too is found here, deep green malachite, the servant of the Khortuun. Great trees covered in the cocoons of strange beasts that flutter on wings of color also grow in these highlands, the cocoons shades of crimson, and azure, and violet...

Varra: In blood oath, and black oath, and words spoken to the night watches of fell deed, the men of Saladon swear their vows. The gods bend their ears, and something is changed. Of hot vengeance and crimson the fabric of the world might now hear, and in the binding of men loose sinews of unseen strength...

Riverlands: A hot blood stirs in the Riverlands, fueled by rumors of war from the south. A hundred sons of the city, seeing that their walls may need defense, have banded together as an informal warband, which seeks approval from the city fathers to range forth and learn more of the world, to defend the fair Republic. -10 Stability

Machaka: If horn is bound, and clever concoctions applied to bone and wood, bows may be created which shoot farther and faster than the simple contraptions of timber which the Machaka previously employed. This secret has now been perfected by the wise men and men of craft of the city.

Corvus: The men sent south and west return, telling tales of a great hot jungle which lies upon such a latitude. The sea enfolds it, crashing on bays and reefs of black sand and red coral, to both north and west, and south marches the immense depths of tropical woodland. Yellow fruit grows not far into this jungle, curved and sweet to eat, and and curious black rock which is hot to the very touch, as if indwelt with the strength of the sun, litters the forest floor. Many men displays burns from stepping upon this stone. There are other words of caution though - immense beasts, like a man's arm, but as long as a man, clad in scales which turn both spear and arrow, wander the heights of the trees. A half dozen of the men do not return, no doubt having fallen prey to these creatures... but this is not all of the news. Strange men, clad in gleaming armor the color of the stars, did the explorers see in this direction. They moved in a great host, but as quiet as phantoms, with faces identical and grave. Upon questioning only half of the explorers saw them, the rest seeing nothing where the others reported a great army. And stranger still is the news from the flatlands - the slaves have vanished once more, as if they had never been, leaving not even the bodies of their overseers this time, their footprints disappearing into a small stream and never appearing again...

Deepkin: Explorers return from the south, with news of the land. Bison are to be found in wide rolling plains, and the plains continue both south and east as far as the eye can see. Volcanic fissures wrack this land, spewing out both molten rock and great green emeralds which delight the eye at their splendor. There is also stone here, shot through with hues as of trammeled lightning, which does not sit upon the earth as men would wish, but soars and floats above broken hills and pools of the earth's hot blood, a thing at which the explorers marvel. Raiders have also struck Forgefend, but they were dispersed by the defenders of the city, and fled at speed unable to be pursued by the heavily shod warriors of the Deepkin eastward.

There is good news from Stalheim. Men working for the state have brought forth a great quantity of star-iron from a previously unknown source, working long hours to surprise their rulers with the good fortune. +5 Starmetal, -10 Stability

Aederfolk: There is wisdom in binding stone to stone, and with aggregate and crushed rock and mud and water the Aederfolk now percieve the value of this art - that of mortaring, and the constructions which men with this knowledge might raise.

by **Ralnis** » Tue Feb 16, 2021 9:08 pm

Warcyfle,
Island of Lo

Grum was beside himself and the supporters were as well. His research was baring no fruit and he felt less empowered than his father was with trying to be a military power. He took stock of everything and realize that it won't be possible, ever be possible. He was outpaced by everyone around him and it may as well be a child trying to catch up to adults. He was failure as a warrior and a chieftain so he must focus on his people. His people were all that he had and he didn't what to do.

However, he came to some understanding that a new reform of government was needed. This came with the idea of an oligarchy, one that was the idea that the wealthy had the best say in government and the need for wealth came to them. He didn't mind this change of pace and was willing to accept that this was turning the of a new idea throughout the island. It would be a place of trade and business, not of warfare. As he look to the artisans who have risen in power and wanted more say in the growing society. Like how to get more babies. A creche was the next to be made from the list of building requests after the need to build a docks.

The scholars, who were fed up with trying to understand warfare arcana, decided to start learning other, more practical things. One had gone to the idea of advancing their construction knowledge in order to prepare for the need of navy to secure trade with the Ithoi and the Aun'kal. Emissaries had started to go to Dawn Singer with an idea that Grum had which could go with, maybe.

by **Pragia** » Wed Feb 17, 2021 12:17 am

Ghenar would return to the Eleskar with a grim countenance, his men behind him, now much fewer in number. There were no honors, no revelry in the impressive tactical victory against a better equipped and more numerous opponent. Fully half their number had died in this slaughter, the ferocity of their opponents was not expected in the face of their harassment. Worse still was that this meant that there was no surrender among the savages, those few who were captured were quickly executed by vindictive survivors, unable to be at peace after the death of their compatriots. Nonetheless, their spoils would be returned to the Eleskar, who were at least able to reassure and comfort their enslaved countrymen. They would be given what dignity that had been taken away, to the best of the ability of the magi, while the bodies of the warriors were buried with great pain.

Halan Eleskar would perhaps be the most pained among those who were not there. A pile of bones had begun this crisis, and a pile of bones would be how it ends. He would not order some great rearming, despite the idea of this group being a band that was from some larger force, likely the same one which menaced nearby Machaka. They would rise to meet future challenges, but they would not become the butchers they abhorred. The future would involve less bodies. In the following council meeting, many magi would insist to Halan that they put more stock in the idea of animating their stone. While the initial idea was for workers who could operate under magi overseers, the idea of the magi being able to command forces of stone against barbarians was one that Halan felt could ease his troubled mind. Ghenar, being ungifted as a magi, would not be able to participate on the council by the dictates of Syndra, but for his leadership and service he would be recognized as a regularly permitted observer, something nobody outside the magi had been granted.

The spoils returned would be a different matter of interest, the material of shining surface was fashioned crudely by barbarian hands. This idea was one which some scholars would take interest in. The land the Eleskar settled was not rich in mineral resources, though the great amount of stone being excavated for construction and art would allow for some knowledge of what this material was. How these barbarians were strong enough to bend this ore into shape was unknown, but it would not remain a secret to the minds of the Eleskar for long.

The refreshing variety that the different members of the council were tasking their people with had not yet yielded fruit, but it was creating a much move vibrant culture within the cadres of the magi. People were no longer beholden to the will of the magister alone, they now had their council, which had solidified its influence over the magi, to develop their own cliques and works. It would take time, as in all things, to yield fruit.

The Kelskar would also gain experience from this action, though they mercifully did not engage in the direct fighting like the greatly diminished warriors. Their interests lied in what their bitter foes were obstructing, the lands they had familiarized themselves with now open for them to explore. The creatures they had seen briefly were of particular interest, with scouts going under armed guard, the Kelskar having developed a tight relationship with their comrades, torches held close as they search for the humanoid creatures during their explorations.

by **Nuxipal** » Wed Feb 17, 2021 12:54 am

City of Daru
Year of the Ancestor 134

These years fall at an auspicious time. The ceremony of We-dnus-dei and the absence of the controlling hand. Should time permit, a future may yet be written.

A Different World: The Noble Cities [IC|Closed]

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