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

by **The GAmeTopians** » Fri Apr 02, 2021 2:31 pm

The Republic of the Great River

The missing envoys from the south were worrying, to be sure, but soldiers could not be spared for an investigation - eyes were kept close on the west. It was almost time to strike.

(Apologies for lack of lore, I have to go out tonight and I'm not sure when I'll be around)

by **Olthenia** » Fri Apr 02, 2021 3:22 pm

The Vale of Ustar, Sorrowfree
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Arc of Wraiths, the 264th Year of the Star-Count

Sharla mo Halim touched a knuckle to her mouth, eyes narrowed in thought.

“So you’re saying,” she drawled, “-the good priestess was found by one of her acolytes? Before morning prayers?”

Behind her, Dorah mo Wassin nodded. A curt, martial gesture that betrayed her years as a Bonadar. Behind her now, perhaps – but still. The old ways had yet to fade.

“That’s right, Observer. She was found just before the call to prayer.”

‘Observer’. It was known, amongst the Khortuun, that truth was a careful thing – fragile and fleeting. To observe it, to suss it out from betwixt rumour and falsehood, required careful observation. And in all Sorrowfree – at least in sunny plazas and moonlit hillsides where wise mothers gathered – few names found more regard than Sharla mo Halim. An observer most private – gifted, some said, with powers almost akin to prophecy.

Which was nonsense, of course. ‘I merely observe, is all,” Sharla had first observed when she and Dorah had first encountered one another. ‘Where all women see who have eyes to do so – few, I find, ever truly observe.’ Which was well enough, Dorah reflected. But now?

Gosh, by all the things proper and holy in the Khortuun’s hillside city – now word of Sharla’s gifts had seen her involved in this: the investigation into a priestess of the Mother-Moon.

Which, to be fair, was less uncommon than one might think. To be sure, the gospel of the Mother-Moon and all her many star-children – from Father Lizard to the Stone-that-Walked, to Brother Bird and the beastly Beast – the spiritual family of heroes and villains on which the Khortuun pinned their hopes and prayers were most a benign bunch. Less so, then, the ranks of the Khortuun priesthood. For there was no order there, it was known.

In a craft-guild or a Bonadar war-pack, the leaders and word-callers were named and known to all, for crafts and war both required order in such things. Yet amongst the priestesses, whispers and words were knives – and rank and esteem parleyed by intricate webs of rumour and alliance. Whom you knew and how well you could sing, rather than any formal decree. Some mothers thrived in that shifting chaos.

And others, apparently, sharpened knives.

“Her throat was cut from left to right…” Sharla observed – and Dorah frowned in grim confusion. “How can you tell?” the Bonadar demanded.

“The spray her blood – d’you see it?” Sharla drawled. “It is thicker there, where the droplets have hit the wall. More red, more furious. Surely, the cut that severed her throat must have started from that direction…”

And so it was.

“Come on!” Sharla mo Halim announced. “We should speak to that acolyte once more. And get the full story.”

Murder in Sorrowfree – and before morning prayers!

by **The Knights of Azorea** » Fri Apr 02, 2021 5:11 pm

Likan, Shore of Okeanum

"In this year the Velathrim settled their first sister-city, Likan-upon-Okeanum, and all was well with them."
Fragment of a Velathrim settler-chronicle, recorded much later in writing

The river was vast, endless. The waters stretched beyond the view of the eye, as the strange fire-lights of the sea-beasts flickered. The journey was long, but this strange new land was worth it. Skithro's progeny would sprout fresh in new lands, and bear their gods to see sights stranger than imagining.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Sat Apr 03, 2021 12:37 pm

Year 264 of the Reckoning

Turn 32

Zhai Cheng: Inspired peasants, hoping to be afford the opportunity to take the examinations in future years, have made intrepid trips north to retrieve the blood-stone of iron which the Shao flourish upon. Some say that this is naked bribery, and above their station, but the smiths are thankful for the metal nonetheless. +3 Hematite, -45 Stability

Corvus: Men in Cavon have worked long hours, clearing a flatland and flattening the ground for further building, their civic pride impressive to all. A free Rural District has been constructed in the Flatlands. -8 Stability

Machaka: Men unhappy with the worship of the God-Spiders, who die like any other beast, have been stirring up trouble. They say that the god of the Riverlanders must hold more sway in these lands, for his worshipers prosper, and his river flows through the boundaries of Machaka as well. Their turning away from the faith of the elders has caused no small amount of strife! -20 Stability

Eleskar: The explorers have returned, bearing news of the city of a folk called the Nirari, herders and riders on great plains where scarce a tree can be found, unlike the wooded lands of the Eleskar. These people seem advanced, but less numerous than the Eleskar, and have tamed horned beasts to do their bidding. They are too distant to trade with, but perhaps boats could be used to pass down the river to nearer their homes and so commercial exchange rendered viable. Freemen waiting for training in the arts of the magi have quarried a goodly amount of stone and mounded it near the towers of the mages, for use in construction, perhaps a silent petition for swifter training. -10 Stability. Not all is well though. The Freemen dispatched to the outlying quarries have not returned... and only signs of violence betray what might have happened to them...

Narjamo: Agriculture is a simple concept, to turn a small plot of horticultural expertise into something capable of feeding thousands. But this simple concept has much in her complexity which is unimagined - except now the Narjamo have imagined it.

Avnelin: With training and drills and the slow accumulation of experience over many skirmishes, true professionals have begun emerging in the military of the Pennenthelli, and their wisdom will be useful to all.

Kharbarinth: The scholars in Forgefend have analyzed the Firechar, and determined it possesses an internal power, endlessly hot enough to start fires, gaining strength from some unknown source. An eternal flame, yes, this has obvious applications for forge and home.

Southeast of Kharbarinth the explorers descend from the mountains into a vast temperate woodland. To both south and east the woodland stretches, a tableau of forested depths. Honeycombed trees with skin of brass flourish here amidst arboreal stands, and wild boars browse beneath the roots. Wild rice also grows by the streams that permeate the area. 8 A golden age has dawned for the Deepkin, a time of culture and science and progress, prosperity for all, for all live in luxury and only few go without. -200 Stability in Stalheim

Warclyfe: The Aun'kal happily sell the people of Lo a hundred suits of bronze armor for fifteen carts of wealth.

Rivermouth: The secrets of prospecting, and the means whereby men can determine what lies beneath the earth from tiny traces, are revealed to the River-men.

Sorrowfree: In the utter west the forests at last come to an end, the coastline breaking through the trackless arboreal depths. To both west and south the ocean beckons, only heard about in the myths and legends of the people of Corvus. Northward, the forest continues. Large abalone that are filled with succulent flesh stud the waters of the beaches here, and impressive cattle with long horns graze in the shore-meadows. There are also red apples, good to eat.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Sat Apr 03, 2021 2:45 pm

Bronze Age Shao Dynasty Theme

火城

A great arming was on the way, with the Shao having mastered how to ride the heavenly steeds efforts would be made to researching and perfecting the saddle, so that their qilin mounts would be truly devastating and allow them to dominate the plains region. In line with this was the peasants who had made intrepid trips up north to the steaming jungles to gather the blood stone that the Shao relied upon for their military might and industry. The smiths and craftsmen where pleased to have this blood stone for now many weapons and armor could be forged in the smithy's and forges of the City of Fire. The government was not pleased with this rather then this being a deed of selfless duty for the good of all the peasants had only done this to advance their own position and have a chance to take the examinations.

Such bribery was frowned upon in Shao society perhaps more so then in certain other cultures. Of course men where flawed and in was not unheard for bribes and such to be used to advance one's position. The thing with Shao culture was if found out the punishments where severe and swift thus bribery was not how government operated at it's core thus such men where usually punished either being stripped of their position or worst if discovered. The state was ironclad in it's belief that the examinations where a meritocratic process to ensure only the brightest men would be placed in positions of wealth and power. Efforts would have to be made to ensure that more men could prove themselves. In any case naked bribery would never be allowed.

Zhai Cheng

Population: 3055(+400 Growth)

Urban District I [Granary , Spinning House,3 huts, Bloomery, Taixue, Monument, Nursery, Shrine (+3 Stability) ,Forge, Charcoal Pit],+I Flat Food Bonus |II Palisade | Aqueduct
Urban District II[Forbidden Palace(+2 Stability),Garrison, Smithy, Clinic, 4 Huts,2 Cottages(+2 Stability)] +I Food Bonus| Palisade
Rural District I [5 Huts, Timber Camp,7 Gardens , Galena Scrape Mine]|Watch Towers| +III Flat Food Bonus |Aqueduct
Rural District II[ Galena Scrape Mine, 4 Paddocks (Unicorn)]|Watch Towers,|+III Flat Food Bonus.
Rural District III [Farm,2 Paddocks (Unicorn)]|Watch Towers|+III Flat Food Bonus
Population Actions:
700 Scholars [Urban]|Researching [Living State]
400 Bureaucrats [Urban]| Enacting wise and sound government policy +IV Wisdom, +IV Wealth, +IV Stability | Plan of the Mines [IV/X]
100 Peasants [Rural District I]| Working hard--->[+I Labor, +XXI Food ,+I Timber(2 from Domestic Crops,5 from granary ,7 from Aqueduct). ]
400 Peasants [Rural District II] | Working long hours-->[ +IV Labor [+IV Forced Labor] ]
100 Peasants [Rural District II]|Working long hours --->[+IV Food, +II Hides, +I Galena Ore ,+I Labor]
100 Peasants [Rural District III]| Working long hours --->[+IV Hides, +V Food ,+I Labor(1 from domestic animal source,2 from paddocks,2 from farm)]
100 Peasants serving the state. +I Labor
100 Artisans [Urban] | Crafting wares and tools at the Forge ---> -I Charcoal, -I Galena Ore +III Wealth
100 Artisans [Urban]|Crafting tools and wares at bloomery--->-I Charcoal,-I Galena Ore, +III Wealth
100 Artisans [Urban]|Crafting tools and wares at Smithy--->-II Wealth, +III Industry
100 Artisans [Urban]| Crafting tools and ware at Smithy -->-II Wealth, +III Industry
100 Explorers (Forest [trapped]) | Gathering silk.
55 Soldiers| Escorting Explorers.
200 Soldiers patrolling in Zhai Cheng.
200 Straw Hats doing their thing.
100 Soldiers. Pursuing business in foreign lands.
100 Soldiers are being caparisoned for war [I/III Wealth|0/I Industry]

Miscellaneous
+III Wealth from Plan of Multitudes (Wealth) [2/10]
Plan of Fields [1/5]
Unicorn Mounts[I/I Wealth| I/I Industry]
+I Stability from Splendid Isolation.
-IV Forced Labor
100 Freemen are educated has Explorers
-III Wealth
*Emissaries sent to Daru to inquire the price of 5 cartloads of stone*
[8/10]

Construction
Jade Tower[0/VII Labor| VII/VII Wealth| I/III Industry| I/III Timber]
Farm [0/IV Labor| I/I Wealth].Not Complete.
Cottages[V/V Labor| III/III Wealth |I/I Industry| II/II Timber].Complete.
Guozijian [Labor I/I |Wealth V/V| Industry I/ III]
Rural District[III/III Labor| I/I Wealth]
Watch Towers [I/I Industry| I/I Wealth| I/I Labor]
Aqueducts[V/V Labor| III/III Wealth| III/III Industry |V/V Stone].Complete.
Aqueducts[0/V Labor| I/III Wealth| 0/III Industry| V/V Stone]
Aqueducts[0/V Labor| I/III Wealth|0/III Industry| II/V Stone]

Economy
+II Wealth from Palace Economy.
-I Wealth from Splendid Isolation.

Stability
101

by **Pragia** » Sun Apr 04, 2021 9:39 am

Final salutes were held outside the Eleskar as their assembled warriors mass. Myral was furious at the new strikes against her people. She knew, in the pit of her stomach, that these new raiders were of the same that were plaguing the west. The calls were sent and this time the Eleskar would answer. Their people were not particularly warlike, however their small numbers would be mitigated by their new gifts of speed and power. There was, as always with the magi, a second purpose behind their actions. These warriors were to be the first representatives of their people to many of the good and just peoples of this world. Their performance could easily open up new partners for exchange of resources and knowledge. The other warriors of the Eleskar would be sent with Kelskar guides in an eerie but proper repitition of the past. The abduction of the learned men and women of the Eleskar would be answered more directly.

While their men would be sent abroad, there were great proposals being made in the Open Halls, it was rapidly becoming apparent that even for all of their investment in great archives of writings that they simply lacked the ability to train enough magi. This fact created a large pile of rocks near the scriptoria, an action which would create the Eleskar euphemism to "Stack stones" which is to express frustration at a process they cannot directly control. The magi would begin developing such regimens, but to employ them would take time. The Grand Magister sympathized with her people's concerns, for as much as she had done to raise them to luxury, they could not join the cadres of the magi until they were properly trained and inititated.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Mon Apr 05, 2021 8:10 am

Deepkin

Burner's Alley, Forgefend
Eleventh of First Seed, Year Twohundred Sixtysix of the Reckoning

Markus hung up his cloak, shrugging it off with all signs of relish. Vapor almost immediately began to rise from it, the warmth of the smithy driving out the moisture which had turned it into a sodden rag. Behind him his apprentice closed the door, shutting out the rage of the spring storms which lashed the southern coast, all except for the rumbling of thunder from intermittent cracks of lightning which crisscrossed the sky. Normally he didn't resent having to walk up to the apex of the cliff for his work, but on days like today the clamber over mud-slick stones and glistening rock steps became both treacherous and tiresome.

Thankfully his apprentice was wise. Landra, formerly a mere mineworker, knew now after three years her master's whims. There was a pot of chicoric already brewed, and the heat of the decanting, along with the latent heat of the forge, drove the chill swiftly from his bones. After a few minutes of blissful warmth and quiet, Landra waiting patiently for the master smith to regain his strength, he felt ready to begin.

First came the words of warding, a simple cantrip spoken in half doggerel remembered through long years of use. But then came the words of activation, far newer and thus spoken with the precision of anything dangerous but delicate. The roaring heat of the forge sank into his skin like an affectionate cat now, curling and enfolding but not harming, which was of utmost importance. With the wind-forges of the southern city renowned throughout the lands of the Deepkin, much thought had gone into their improvement and creation - and the one clear axiom was that the monsoon winds channeled from below into the fuel of the blaze burned hotter than any other.

Thus it was that they had been selected for this task, and given the newest incantations and materials. House Silversun desired to unlock the secrets of the pale silver-blue metal which the generations of Keen-Folk had known ever since leaving the lands of the First Tree, and no ordinary forge could even warm the metal appreciably, let alone make it malleable for smithing. Perhaps the Citadel of the Dawn might be up to such a task, but the artificers there were busy with the demands of the state and several Great Houses - and so innovation came here.

As the syllables of the words of activation faded away a greater heat kindled below Markus' forge, and he nodded to himself. Infallible, just as the enchanters had promised. The firechar, as the old explorers had named it, swiftly kindled to a roaring blaze - inexhaustible, unmoving, and so perfect for the work. In an ordinary forging you had to be constantly aware of the state of the hearth, and building and maintaining the fire was one of the primary tasks of an apprentice or assistant journeyman. Placing the blade or gather in the wrong place could heat it too little, or too much, with undesirable results. But the heat streaming from the slab of firechar placed below his forge, extremely rare and valuable, for it was as large as kitchen table and unbroken - it was simplicity itself to utilize such a source of radiant energy, and so allowed the master to focus on his craft.

He drew out a length of the silver-blue metal, bonded still with some of the gray stone from which it had been mined, and spoke again the words of activation, sending the heat surging. His wards held, thankfully, and he nodded towards Landra.

"I begin."

Golden Age Years 1 and 2

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Mon Apr 05, 2021 8:55 am

The Land of Penithel

Lore today is somewhat lacking, sorry

by **Lazarian** » Mon Apr 05, 2021 3:58 pm

Year 66 of Destiny's Awakening

Corvus
Fifteenth of Coldwind

The city was quiet and subdued as the fighting men of the city strode away. A few cries of farewell, and many silent prayers. Women clutched their children, praying that their sons would return. Decades ago, this would have been a joyful departure, with bright-eyed youths eagerly seizing the opportunity to bring home riches and glory to Corvus. But those times were no more.

Truthfully, despite the strength of the city, the loose patchwork of priests and oligarchs which composed the government of Corvus was highly reluctant to send its young men off to war. It had been nearly 30 years since the original ill-fated attack on Zhai Cheng, but the scars still permeated Corvidian society.

Nevertheless, the Riverlands cried for aid. A dark horde stood at their doorstep, foul worshippers of the fell Black Kings. Though the Corvidians had a shrine dedicated to these gods, they were not venerated and not admired. Their pillar was simply an acknowledgement that, yes, evil and malicious gods were out there. While the Hesukar and the Den of Demons were too far away to truly pose a threat to the Corvidians, they could not look away as their allies called for aid.

And thus, the young men of the city strode off as the sun rose above them. To victory - or to death.

by **Ralnis** » Mon Apr 05, 2021 10:51 pm

Warcyfle,
Island of Lo

Grum had saw the scholars try to keep with the understanding of progressing the institutions of government. It had been two years since the expedition had been launched to find land to conquer or to trade. Many of the warhawks await in abated breath that they find the Island of Savages and the very idea that they should be able to raid in the name of labor. The newest hundred suits of bronze armor was still the same lightweight scales and mail that interlocks with clothing. Much of the islander clothing of course was Warcyfle as their advanced society had made quite a lasting influence with their neighbors. It was light and made of fibers that were from their immense tropical environment.

To someone who never who never knew what snow was, they were always hot. Which also came from the large navy that now had been assembled. The Aun'kal were given another tall vessel with their colors instead of the flag. Grum had also decided to gift them another one in order to deepen their friendship till the time was right. The Aun'kal were the shield of the region and the Sons of Tes'la needed to be the hammer and the brains of the region. The prosperity of the combined trade usually came to understand that the Ithoi, wherever they are, would have a difficult time trying to send a raiding party at them.

However the Warcyfle also started to notice that their military, despite being conscript marines, started to develop a naval tradition. With new Pride-Class ships being able to be built rapidly thanks to their drydock. Various streamlines of service have allowed them to do many things despite their small population. A military tradition could breed something better than conscripts from the farms. These military traditions would be on the backburner until an actual developed government was founded.

On top of the navy, another electromagnetic forge was built as the lighting smiths employed the new Lighting Loop attunement to keep the energy flowing better when the lighting strikes and funnels the power to craft Teslanite. This helps with the new need for energy and helps the lighting-smiths in general as new Teslanite can be processed. As for right now, the great need of power is good for the Sons of Tes'la.

All in all, Grum is looking to make sure he's last years in leadership will be able to see the glory of Tes'la seen to another people's vision.

by **Olthenia** » Tue Apr 06, 2021 1:42 am

The Vale of Ustar, Sorrowfree
Sixth Day of the Arc of Murak’s Bane, the 266th Year of the Star-Count

“...Is it real?”

Ginnem asked the question haltingly, slowly – as though he was unsure of the words. Or the phrasing. As though they wouldn’t carry his intent all the way through. Across the campfire, Seypelli noticed. It was clear by the look on his face.

“Real? Heh – I don’t think this is a waking dream, nah.” The older man hid a smile in his voice, if not in his eyes. And the mirth stung.

“That’s not what I mean!” Ginnem drawled, defensive despite himself. But despite his companion’s raised eyebrows and querying look – Ginnem was stumped. The words did not come. They were swallowed, for one, by the incessant, unnatural rumble behind him. Like a crowd on racing day, or the Sundown Market. And they made the young man damn uneasy.

The Khortuun were not a people familiar with the sea. They had hardly known of its existence, to be sure – and the first explorers to report back about it, far out there in the west? Oh, they’d earned their fair share of snickers and jests. But more fool they who had laughed at them. Because the ocean? That vast plain of poisonous water that stretched out from a sandy shore and went off into the horizon? It was real alright, and no Wise Mother’s dream.

But its presence still did not sit right with poor Ginnem. His fellow explorers and he had come out of the woods not a forthnight past – and the young man had been more than eager to see the sight for himself. Now that he had, however? Augh. It… it didn’t sit right. And although his older companion, Seypelli, didn’t say as much, Ginnem could tell the former Bonadar felt it too. A withering of his soul. Heck, it was even in their camels! Who rolled their eyes and brayed and seemed even more irritable than usual.

“It’s just… It’s too much water,” Ginnem murmured at long last. “Water like that shouldn’t exist in one place!” Seypelli tightened his lips for a moment, and it almost seemed as though he was fighting a smile. In the end, however? The older man only sighed. “Heh. That’s a bit like saying there’s too much sunlight out in the White Wastes,” he observed – but caught Ginnem’s eyes across the embers all the same. “But I know what you mean…”

And Ginnem sighed. And drew his cloak tighter about it – and sucked his teeth as he fought the taste of salt in the air. It was even in the air, too.The very air he breathed.

“Oh, Ginnem. I do.”

by **The Knights of Azorea** » Tue Apr 06, 2021 9:04 am

The Velathrii

Likan, House of the Ordos
First year of Likan

"Oh quiet yourself, child, and let those of finer years speak."

The gravel-rough voice of a stone-mason cut through the close, smoky air of the hut. The assembled men, women and few priests were exhausted. The stone-mason hammered her fist into a timber in the wall in frustration, and caught half a dozen glares. This first sister-city of Velathri was a strange place to find oneself, and no sacred laws had yet been written to judge how it should be run. All were exhausted with the labour of building the new city - of the long march west and the punding salt-sea they had found at its end, and most were fair-fearful at the risk of divine wroth they incurred in such unknown endeavour. All had been born and raised in the shadow of Velathri. They had known dawn and dusk by the shine of the Suvaean marble, had lived by the calendar of sacrifices, had come to rest each night behind the city's white crown. Only a few months of exploring beyond the valley had taught them to think they were ready to pass beyond Aqilona's embrace, but now they might never see the city again.

So it was that the wisest artisan masters - masons, smiths and captains of all crafts - came together in the house of Melik Kapok, the eldest veteran of their number, to convene a council - the Ordos of the new city. Without the tribal loyalties needed for a maphron or the priests required for a legium (despite the protestations of those present), the Ordos would direct the efforts of the colonists, and rule the new city. After days of argument, brawling and a few broken chairs, the unruly councillors came to their first few conclusions. Food and defence were the first matters to be seen to, and the masons would have their way with walls in time.

Velathri, The Pasture of Kaliyat
One hundred and twelfth year of Velathri

As its sister-city was finally born anew, the metropol continued its bustling life. Work on the long-delayed docks continued apace, as the river began finally to be mantled at the far end of the valley - fish beginning to flow into the city's markets. In the city itself, stone-cutters shops blossomed on the western hill, and the rolling beat of hammer and chisel rose still higher in the air. The city of marble shone on against the deep green of the jungle, and all kept well in Velathri.

by **Ingeja** » Tue Apr 06, 2021 10:05 am

Pomjed 8:ske, Narjamo

"I saw a great many men standing in a grove. It seems to me that it was Narjavod, as it was ringed in oaks tall and straight, but I am unsure. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Golden rays of light smiled through the oak lobes and cut playful swaying shapes on the holy ground. There was a barrow, and many pillars rose out of it. At the very top of the mound was a gabled structure and great pillar, like the tallest oak at Narjavod. At the top of the pillar stood an old man. He wore a coat, like one of the old winter coats that journeyed with us from the northern wastes. He held out his hand, and from the tip of his finger there was a light. The light continued to grow until the entire vision was consumed.

Then I was sitting beside a fire. It was nighttime, and we were in a grove much like the one I was just in. Except something was amiss. We, the men, there were only men, wore the skins of beasts. And the doors of the tomb were open. There were strangers among us, who watched as the soldiers danced around the fire. The soldiers gnashed their teeth, pounded their chests, and howled like wolves. There was no chorus, just the haunting voice of drums and the wild screams of the dancers.

I was then at a wooden altar. I performed a rite, then pushed it into the blaze. I turned, and held out my hand to the strangers. I offered them each a piece of amber, which they took with hesitation. Then the scene turned again, and I was a lone by the dying embers. I could hear someone approach, but I could not see who it was. And then the dream was over."

Nama, the priest, looked intently at Komakala. The young man had come to him early in the morning to report a dream that troubled him. As he finished his story, the priest only nodded saying, "leave me with this. You have nothing to fear, but I shall consult the signs. Return to me in three nights."

by **The GAmeTopians** » Tue Apr 06, 2021 10:21 am

The Republic of the Great River

War. War never changes.
Through the fel magic that is human ingenuity, we return to the walls of our enemies,
armed to destroy the very barrier between them and our blades.
The darkest of abominations stalk the night, frolicking in spades,
While by day great boulders of the earth across the sky alight,
And as dusk creeps close great flames from our camp ignite.
Stratagems and technologies may yet win us the day,
Yet there is no trick of war that could ever change what I say.
War. War never changes.
- Solon Bladebreeze

Such is the way of things in the River's Jewel. Such is the way of things in this strange world.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Thu Apr 08, 2021 3:53 pm

Year 266 of the Reckoning

Turn 33

Zhai Cheng: Men sent north to the lands of the Nirari return with a bargain - seven cartloads of wealth for five cartloads of stone.

Eleskar: The efforts of the scouts send out into the wild lands are of only dubious value - they track the lost brethren south for some leagues, before losing the trail. Any fool could have guessed, perhaps, that the majority of dangers might lay south. But something is not nothing, at least not quite.

Kharbarinth: Clever men trammeled the power of earth and stone - and simplified these methods so even artisans could reproduce them with hammer and tongs. They have triumphed again, devising configurations of line and craft which interact even with the geomantic forces of this world. Moreover, in this fair golden age, the long riddle of the relationship of geomancy and the energy of the world and the energy of the sons of the Fathers takes a step towards comprehension - with mages creating means whereby those with flagging strength can bear up by siphoning the power of the very earth. Northeast of Forgefend the explorers venture, up the White River. Thick forests, it seems, march east of Forgefend, and this part of the river valley is no exception - the White River continues east, into trackless woodlands, and to both north and south similar arboreal depths continue. Wolves pad here, and silver is to be found in these hills. White fluffy cotton grows here as well, nestled in small meadows.

Corvus: Wide grasslands greet the explorers from Corvus, flanked to both the south and the east by gasping deserts of dust similar to those of the Khortuun. There are strong horses that roam the grasslands here, wild breeds with dappled chestnut and roan coats, and cougars which hunt them. Deep veins of amethysts are to be found here, no doubt luxuries men would value.

Warcylfe: Efforts to gain renown with the Aun'kal are proceeding well, and the sons of the Dawn-Singer have proposed that the people of Tes'la establish a trade post in their city, so all might prosper. A dozen cartloads of wealth would establish the infrastructure for this trade link.

Sorrowfree: The explorers who turned south map out a wild country of trackless forests, abutted to both south and west by tempestuous seas. Immense pine trees grow here, impressive timbers for construction, alongside stands of tart raspberries which fill bellies with welcome change from dried rations and travel-bread. Large stands of kelp can be seen floating off the coast, and wash up on the beach here as well.

Of the women who turned north, a quick return is noted. They speak of a great spire of stone which rises from the forest, as sheer as any wall, and wild men who move about nearby - and living stones. It is a familiar tale, and perhaps only luck that they were not spotted by what must be, at last, the marauders which claimed so many of their kindred...

Velathrii: Strange men have visited the new settlement, who walk upon the waves on moving houses of fallen trees. They trade for some trinkets, providing the new settlement with a small amount of income, and mention that they come from the west across the shallow sea. +5 Wealth. Farmers and scholars working together have devised methods of rearing the golden wheat which lays on all sides near the people of the Archons, which will enhance the diet of the citizens significantly.

Narjamo: There are evil portents in the sky, and a great star has been sighted falling to the ground to the east. The fires its descent provoke have scared beasts and birds from the region, and made hunting difficult for a time... -5 Food this turn. Granaries are simple methods to prevent rot and ineptitude from claiming large swathes of the harvest - and the methods of constructing these buildings are now known to the Narjamo.

Rivermouth: There is chagrin in the capitol as the men and women dispatched to carefully assess the land for hidden mineral wealth report in the negative. Perhaps this is an account of inattention, or fell fortune - or perhaps the lands of the River lack wealth to be found. Such are things in the strange world. Those sent south report that caverns explored hold great wealth of limestone, good for building, which could be useful for any large constructions.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Thu Apr 08, 2021 4:46 pm

Flow of the Yu River

Wu Kong sat near the banks of the Yu River. He was a scholar a learned man. Ever since the wise men had discovered how to create paper there had been an explosion of knowledge and writing. He had traveled to the ancient city of Tuodong which sat on the northern banks of the Yu River. He was writing a treatise on the Huanca people, their culture and lifestyle.He noted that the tongue the Huanca spoke was very close to his own native Huang, indeed the language was more like a dialect of the Huang language then a truly distinct language.

The people where expert weavers, and they wore elaborately designed cotton robes. The Huanca practiced the filial piety and ancestor worship that the people of Zhai Cheng did, but some also worshipped at totem poles of their ancestors a curious practice. The Ancestor of the Niari people or Hòutu has the Shao worshippers called her also held a prominent role in their belief system.

Zhai Cheng

Population: 3055(+600 Growth)

Urban District I [Granary , Spinning House,3 huts, Bloomery, Taixue, Monument, Nursery, Shrine (+3 Stability) ,Forge, Charcoal Pit],+I Flat Food Bonus |II Palisade | Aqueduct
Urban District II[Forbidden Palace(+2 Stability),Garrison, Smithy, Clinic, 4 Huts,3 Cottages(+3 Stability)] +I Food Bonus| Palisade
Rural District I [5 Huts, Timber Camp,7 Gardens , Galena Scrape Mine]|Watch Towers||Aqueduct +III Flat Food Bonus
Rural District II[ Galena Scrape Mine, 4 Paddocks (Unicorn)]|Watch Towers,|+III Flat Food Bonus.
Rural District III [Farm,2 Paddocks (Unicorn)]|Watch Towers| Aqueduct|+III Flat Food Bonus
Rural District IV [ ]Watch Towers|+III Food
Population Actions:
700 Scholars [Urban]|Yet again researching [Living State]
400 Bureaucrats [Urban]| Enacting wise and sound government policy +IV Wisdom, +IV Wealth, +IV Stability | Plan of the Mines [VIII/X]
100 Peasants [Rural District I]| Working hard--->[+I Labor, +XXI Food ,+I Timber(2 from Domestic Crops,5 from granary ,7 from Aqueduct). ]
400 Peasants [Rural District II] | Working long hours-->[ +IV Labor [+IV Forced Labor] ]
100 Peasants [Rural District II]|Working long hours --->[+IV Food, +II Hides, +I Galena Ore ,+I Labor]
100 Peasants [Rural District III]| Working long hours --->[+IV Hides, +VII Food ,+I Labor(1 from domestic animal source,2 from paddocks,2 from farm,2 from Aqueduct)]
100 Peasants serving the state. +I Labor
100 Artisans [Urban] | Crafting wares and tools at the Forge ---> -I Charcoal, -I Galena Ore +III Wealth
100 Artisans [Urban]|Crafting tools and wares at bloomery--->-I Charcoal,-I Galena Ore, +III Wealth
100 Artisans [Urban]|Crafting tools and wares at Smithy and crafting silk goods--->-I Silk, +III Wealth,-II Wealth, +III Industry
100 Artisans [Urban]| Crafting tools and ware at Smithy -->-II Wealth, +III Industry
100 Explorers (Mount) |On the lookout for enemy barbarians.
100 Explorers [Forest (Trapped)] | Gathering silk.
55 Soldiers escorting the Explorers.
200 Soldiers patrolling in Zhai Cheng.
200 Straw Hats doing their thing.
100 Soldiers. Pursuing business in foreign lands.
100 Soldiers are being caparisoned for war [I/III Wealth|0/I Industry]

Miscellaneous
+III Wealth from Plan of Multitudes (Wealth) [3/10]
Plan of Fields [2/5]
+I Stability from Splendid Isolation.
-IV Forced Labor
-III Wealth
[9/10]
*Emissaries to the city of Daru to ask the price for chickens *

Construction
Jade Tower[0/VII Labor| VII/VII Wealth|0/III Industry| III/III Timber].Not Complete.
Huts[III/III Labor| I/I Wealth]
Huts[III/III Labor| I/I Wealth]
Huts[I/III Labor|0/0 Wealth]
Farm [0/IV Labor| I/I Wealth].Not Complete.
Guozijian [Labor I/I |Wealth V/V| Industry III/ III]
Quarry[0/II Labor]
Quarry[0/II Labor]
Quarry[0/II Labor]
Quarry[0/II Labor]
Aqueducts[V/V Labor| III/III Wealth| III/III Industry |V/V Stone].Complete.
Aqueducts[0/V Labor| I/III Wealth| 0/III Industry| V/V Stone]
Aqueducts[0/V Labor| I/III Wealth|0/III Industry| II/V Stone]

Economy
+II Wealth from Palace Economy.
-I Wealth from Splendid Isolation.

Stability
108

by **Pragia** » Thu Apr 08, 2021 5:16 pm

by **Olthenia** » Fri Apr 09, 2021 1:57 am

The Council-Yard, Sorrowfree
Ninth day of the Arch of Weeping, 268th Year of the Star-Count

«A tower.»

Scout-Master Suleyaw’s rolled the word off of his tongue with ease. More ease, perhaps, than he felt. Suleyaw was a man in his twenty-third year – a man grown by all the standards of the Khortuun – and though his face was still smooth and not un-comely, it was the pride and joy of his chin which bore a curl of carefully trimmed beard that bore witness to the true status he so proudly claimed. Suleyaw was no mere wanderer or vagabond, nor a drover or even a Bonadar. Suleyaw was a master of scouts. If the young man’s status impressed the women he stood in the midst of, however – they did not show it. Nor should they, for indeed, the priestesses and wise-women of Fair Sorrowfree were above a mere man such as he; no matter the size of his chin-whisps. Sorrowfree was the city of the Mother-Moon, and in her city her priestesses reigned.

Tonight, he was not by a campfire with his equals, however – but in a small courtyard that sat within spitting distance of the Mother-Moon’s shrine. Beyond it, in the dimple between two hills, all of Sorrowfree gathered on feast day’s to walk her dance, sing her prayer-songs and glory in cool, pale fullness of her face. Yet now, in this little courtyard? No, there was no joyous feasting afoot – just talk. Serious talk. On Sorrowfree’s behalf, Scout-master Suleyaw led expeditions of able men and brave women to seek new lands and return to tell of it. And that, then, was his business that night. While evening fell overhead and the Mother-Moon veiled her face in clouds – Suleyaw testified to his Mothers.

“A tower. Like a building, raised of stone and mortar?” Hadrah mo Leyn, Third Speaker of the Cloth did not hide the tone of faint incredulity.

“That’s usually what a tower is, yes,” Terraso mo Edwo, Second Speaker of the Cloth remarked – her tone placid.

“Did you see any other buildings there? Was it a village you came across, or a mere camp?” Hadrah mo Leyn wanted to know – her lined mouth puckering impatiently. “These people are not savages then, if they can-“

“A thousand pardon, revered Mother-“ Suleyaw interrupted – and immediately lowered his gaze from the twist of displeasure of mo Leyn’s face. A man? Interrupting a women? In the streets and plant-fields of daily life, such an act was most unseemly; like treading on a woman’s gown or kicking a cat. But for a man to do in council with the oldest and wisest of all Sorrowfree it was practically unheard of! “Ah… a thousand pardons, as I said!” Suleyaw stammered. “But it was not.”

“Not what, boy?” mo Leyn pressed – voice tense as a camel-hide drum. Oh dear. Suleyaw grappled with the realization that he had best choose his next words with care. The whims of Sorrowfree’s wise mothers could sink a man’s career almost as quick as they could raise it. Indeed – the only thing rumoured to be sharper than a priestess’ temper was the copper knife she’d use to slice a rival. So it was a relief, then - before he could answer - that it was the smooth drawl of another that urged him on.

“Go on,” Bindag mo Bindag husked.

To call the old First Speaker ‘old’ was to cheapen the word. Amongst the Khortuun, when a woman’s hair drew more grey than black, it was customary for her to shave her head down to a mere forelock and truly – properly! – be counted as wise. But Bindag mo Bindag was beyond any of that. Indeed, the old woman with skin as dark as old leather and a face lined as a Bonadar’s saddle still remembered – it was said – the earliest years of Sorrowfree’s life. As indeed she might; daughter of the First Speaker as she was.

“Speak.”

The silence in the plaza by the shrine was heavy at this word. As heavy as night. For a moment, nothing but the crackle of torches and the rustle of shifting cloth could be heard in the cool night air. No cat hissed or yowled. No poison-tongued priestess even snickered as much as a word.

And Scout-Master Suleyaw found his voice at last.

“It was like a tower, in that it was sheer and straight. But it was not built, I don’t think. Not by any skill known to man.”

Not by any skill known to men? Well, damnation. That, in the end, made things even more mysterious. When news of the good Scout-Master’s return had first reached the ears of Sorrowfree’s wise mothers – and the first talk of wild men and rock-beasts had begun to swirl? Oh, many a wise mother in many a shaded courtyard all over the Khortuun’s hill-city had rolled her eyes in wary amusement. Suleyaw was a Scout-Master – a wanderer! A vagabond! – and also, perhaps most importantly, he was a man. As all wise mothers knew, it was in the nature of men – let alone men who wandered and explored – to season their stories with equal parts woe and wonder. After all, the thing which above all separated a poor wanderer from a wealthy Scout-Master? Oh, it was not how far he journeyed or how to see a storm coming – no, sweet child. Rather, it was what he brought back from said journey, and of how he told it afterwards.

Close to a dozen years ago – a band of intrepid explorers had gone missing out west. And the few survivors eventually found by anxious search-parties had regaled the priestess’ councils for many hours with testimonies of their travails. Of red-haired giants and rock-beasts. Of sorcerous snow-storms! Of shadows in the night! And in the end, like it or not, the council had dismissed them. They had gotten lost, the consensus at last agreed – lost to a fate no crueler than an unexpected twist of fate.

Until now.

Now, like it or not, Suleyaw’s testimony before the First Speaker and her closest sister’s of the faith had changed everything.

“Scout-Master?” old Bindag groused – and both mo Leyn and mo Edwo held their breaths. Suleyaw’s would too – but the old priestess’ eyes arrested him. Cool and grey were they – as grey as her mother’s before her. And beneath them, Suleyaw could scarcely help but feel like a boy of ten summers – facing a scolding for being out after dark. “Yes, wise Mother?”

Bindag mo Bindag smiled.

“Tell us more.”

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Sat Apr 10, 2021 12:36 pm

Deepkin

The Spire of the Sky, Kharbarinth
Twentieth of Chillwind, Year Twohundred Sixtyeight of the Reckoning

His vision soared high, higher than the mountains. The wind and cold blurred his eyesight, and his breath came harsh and fast. Beneath his feet the air alone remained - a sensation which sent many who had been put forward as candidates for his position into panic, unable to control their primal fears. Not Arvinius though. He was master of his emotions, and saw farther than any. As he walked between the roof of the world and the stars he gazed down at the landscape, at the endless trees and unnamed rivers, the hills and dells where no song had been sung, the fields never under plough or spell.

He looked closely, as was his charge. As the hours passed of scouring the earth his vision grew bleary, not from the chill air of the heights, but from weariness. To walk these paths drained a man, and even he could feel the endless cocktail of barely controlled fear draining the life and vitality from his body. It was exhausting, and exhilarating, and others mages had compared it to a journey of many weeks, finally come to an end, when their turn was complete.

Eventually he could bare no more. The lands were melting into one, his sorcerous potency spent, and his fatigue getting the best of him. Normally the other sages would have started the ritual of return already, but he was afforded certain excesses in his work, for he was the most trusted of those who oversaw the vast domains of the Deepkin. He intoned the leaden syllables, and with each word he felt less like a spirit of air and fire, and more like a very human man.

Each step now carried him not across the endless leagues, but homeward. Dark shadows were starting at the edge of his vision, and his weariness was seeping into his very bones. He had judged it right though. Before the siren call of sleep could take him, Arvinius stood once more atop the Spire, where wind blew and the rest of the sorcerous circle stood waiting. A body lay there, atop the focusing point of the great geomantic web; young, red of beard and with tanned skin, his pale blue robes marking his order and training. With no small amount of happiness did he settle back into his own body, returning from his sojourn across land and sky.

Breath started heavily in his chest, and he winced. Sitting up with alacrity, he swore, bending down to stretch out a cramping calf muscle. His partner, Lavinia, laughed at him openly, while one of the other enchanters retrieved a phial of honey-wine, which he took happily once his limbs receded from abject pain.

"This is why the magisters set their limits."

The words came from dour Thureos, the greybeard who oversaw day to day operations of the mighty thaumaturgical edifice. He did not approve of the privileges that some of his charges had acquired for their skills, a great believer in limits for all men. Arvinius merely shrugged, ignoring the argument that was always resuscitated and time he stood in the dominion of the Father longer than he should.

"Nothing to report this time of immediate worth. If Lavinia will help me, I'll record my impressions forthwith below."

Men and women around the circle nodded, and another sorcerer, clad in the thick leathers and mask of the Star-Seekers, stepped forward to take his place.

Golden Age Years 3 and 4

by **The Knights of Azorea** » Sat Apr 10, 2021 2:29 pm

The Velathrii

Velathri, The hill of Suvae
First Day of the Saecrun

The sacred eagles roared in the skies and darted down either side of the sacred way, snatching dormice and buffalo-scraps from their handlers. Both - the silver-streaked elder and the tawny younger, settled like empresses, like mangrove roots. The augur on each side nodded, and each waved for the priest of Aego the Thunderer. Bedecked in robes dyed red and black with ash and blood, Clusien stood stock still in awe. The newly anointed priest had spent hours waiting for the signal - perched in place on a balcony carved out from the edge of the hill. Once it had overlooked the city when it was a small attendant village - now it was mostly hidden by masons shops and the raised promontories of the houses.

The folk of Velathri were much attached to the hills of their most ancient days. They had not forgotten their alpine origins, even in the city they had built. Many houses, certainly, sat upon the flat plain below, but the wealthy and the soldiery dwelt in houses made to attend to their purpose. Blocks of marble were set out into mounds and then covered over in turf, planted with sturdy jungle trees and secured by their roots. Fine houses were built upon these shaped mounds - every man with the wealth for it could have his own acropolis. The houses themselves were usually built in a style distinct from the timber huts of older times. The stone was set out in a number of attendant square structures, roofed in dark timber, entered from above and attached by stone walkways to the highest point of the compound, where a long hall was set. The complexity of a compond varied wildly, and the largest accommodated several families at once, with chambers for shrines, the interment of ashes and hollowed for the storage of food. The smaller compounds held only a hall, a few sleeping houses and a mortuary.

Clusien looked out over compound walls. He watched as men rested in the sun of private hillsides, and as those others wandered in state up and down the walkways. It was a hot winter in Velathri, and the sun came sharply - wealthy women went about their homes like kassiros - unveiled or in tunics. Songbirds flitted between the squat jungle trees, and new wheat beer, kept cool in basements within the false hills, flowed freely. The commencement of the saecrun warranted much luxury, though he doubted if it was celebrated so languidly in the smaller houses beyond his view. Another, more frantic wave from the augur below and he jolted to his work. From a raised, twirling brace behind him, built for the purpose, he retrieved a horn. It was old - worn at its edges despite much polish and a few embellishments in wrought iron. The horn of a buffalo slain more than a century ago, by the blessed hand itself.

He raised Skithro's horn to his lips, and it bellowed out across the city. Scores of birds -a myriad of jungle resplendence carried back to blossoming Velathri - flitted up from rafters and out into the city sky, and far below, at the start of the sacred way, the outgoing archons painted bluemoss upon the cheekbones and brows of their incoming comrades. The new men were strong, assured -ready, though Clusien knew the fear that made them check and check again the bracing of their swords. He waited as the sun passed gently further overhead. A count of a hundred. Then, the horn blew again, and the two men began their ascent above mere manhood. With each step they passed forward - ceasing to be children of Skithro and becoming his firstborn, his heirs. With each stride they drew closer to the temple above.

---

All across the Suvae priests were in motion. Only the youngest of them - the most inexperienced and unused to such things - ever rushed or ran. The older men went about their work in silence and focus. Each knew his place, had practiced it every day for decades, and did not faulter. The priestesses of Kaliyat and Kaeva, painted with blood-red tears, turned and span amidst billowing veils of red. Sacred parrots spoke words of prophecy, holy snakes twirled around one another and even duelling horn-beetles were watched for their omens. This year, the red-painted beat the blue - order would subsume chaos. At the top of the hill the greatest of priests, banded around the neck with torqs of polished iron, their teeth and the pits of their eyes blackened with hematite paint and their hair in dark ringlts, awaited the incoming archons. The sacred bluemoss, unstudied even still, sat wreathed around the neck of an albino-white buffalo, its red eyes placid as it stared into an oncoming doom.

---

Arms still slick with the beast's steaming blood, the two archons emerged from the cella of the temple, and clasped one another in peace, and in brotherhood. This was the strange ritual of it - for blood-soaked men whose swords had brushed each other's throats that morning - to embrace before the teeming hundreds of the city. In the temple above the aged craftsmen-priests hollowed the horns of the bull and bound them in loops of iron. Such had been done even before the beasts were tamed, and so in the halls of the powerful the horns had accrued. Clusien had two above his hearth, and those of his fathers hung in the halls. In the city below, men blew the horns of their most recent archon-ancestor, and those that rang the loudest bathed most in the glory of the day. The old archon-turned-priest sighed, as night began to fall and beer truly began to pour, and watched the foaming blood pour down the pure white stone of the sacred way, pooling in rivulets below.

Likan, Wheatfield of Tar-Nehesus
Likani Harvest-tide

Nehesus, an odd young man, sat like an elder before his hut, watching the fields of burnished gold. Out before his eyes men cut the harvest into bushels, and behind him he heard the kassiros - his sibling and a few fellows - winnowing and sieving the grain. The first harvest of Likan was being brought in, and it was to be piled up first of all in his barn and his cellars. The diet of the colonists had blossomed with the new crop. Rather than merely foraging for roots and fishing for the strange creatures of the sea they took to baking. They took to salting their food - so easy by the water's edge, and began to feast on bread and wheat-porridge as their ancestors had on roasting taro. Buffalo meat and milk made a welcome addition, while foraged roots, fruits and herbs turned porridge to rich stew. Nehesus, who had been born an urchin, now filled his belly, as husbands and wives took their fill in his hall.

He laughed - took another gulp of cool, thick beer and wondered at his good fortune. Perhaps, he thought, the gods do have a sense of humour.

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Sun Apr 11, 2021 6:17 am

The Land of Penithel

Excerpt from 'History of Penithel - First Kingdom Era'.

The discovery of the Kaelan Stone finally allowed for the deciphering of the Pennethelli Glyph Script and it's circular writing conventions, this made initial attempts of translating the language hard for earlier scholars of history. Through most of it's long history, the Pennethelli Glyph Script was used for writing administrative documents, accounts, legal texts, and letters, as well as mathematical, medical, literary, and religious texts. Throughout the Ancient Period it remained the chief administrative script used throughout Pennethelli society until the end of Antiquity and coming of the Dark Ages when it was replaced by a more simple and easy to use alphabet that was read from left to right as opposed to in a circular sequence which varied depending on the word that was written.

Due to the later adoption of paper in Pennethelli society than among some other societies of the same period, Pennethelli Glyph Script writings were generally written using a stylus and then incising the text into mud tablets. About five hundred of these tablets have been discovered in the governor's palace at the Sardavin archeological site and a single example was discovered from the site of Torphdrin. These tablets record inventories of food and taxation details, name lists, accounts, and approximately fifty letters. Of these letters, many are internal letters that were circulated within the palace been the local lord and his various functionaries, but others were sent from villages in the region to the governor.

Pennethelli Glyph writings of any given period during Antiquity in present in one of two forms. Either a highly ligatured, cursive script used for administrative documents or a broad uncial bookhand used for chronicles, various philosophical, poetic and other literary texts as well as scientific, and religious texts. These two forms can often be significantly different from one another. Letters used in administrative documents in particular often used very cursive forms for quick writing, often with large numbers of abbreviations for various common phrases, similar to shorthand.

The Kaelan Stone (Colorized)

by **The GAmeTopians** » Mon Apr 12, 2021 11:44 am

The Republic of the Great River

The state of the plains is still in flux - perhaps soon we may learn how power in these lands has shifted.

Back home, at least, the determined explorers attempt to discover hidden riches in the homeland yet again - surely, there must be something?

by **Ingeja** » Mon Apr 12, 2021 1:55 pm

Lore coming soon! Still busy moving.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Mon Apr 12, 2021 2:08 pm

The Second Siege of Skras Tor

The allied forces approached from the east, marching the line of the River until they were out of civilized lands. At the first sighting of the fell city of the Hesukar, the host left the line of their familiar waters and marched north and west. Their direction took them across the outskirts of the settlement, over to where their scouts had reported a large open flat near-plateau, well within range for the Godfists.

They rode warily, marching with their weapons in their hands, ears alert and nerves on edge for the keening bay of the Kraalen, and the nightmarish bounding forms - but no force assaulted them, even as they neared the city, and no arrow, man or woman came forth while they settled into their encampment.

Thus the uneasy siege began. For the first day the Godfists were silent, their operators busy with setting up their tents, and aiding with the driving of the spikes - from wains from Corvus large amounts of timber had come by circuitous routes and long mountain passes for the assault on the fell city, and now those timbers were pounded with heavy mallets into the earth, a bristling wall of stakes which should deter even the mindless beasts of the Black Kings in their assault.

Then the Godfists began. Creaking with the tension in their ropes, the clever machines tossed chosen stones high, high, higher than many who had not seen them in action could believe. Beyond the range of even the keenest of archers they shot, their boulders crashing down against the broken stones of the Hesukar wall that warded the city from assault. Many fell short, or long, but with each stone that fell on target a crack could be heard, even at the great distance of the encampment. The energy of the shot, spent upon the walls, began to show obvious signs of degrading the defenses. In the first few days the crenellations placed above the walls were battered into rubble, but the main works seemed far more resilient. The hours ticked by, the monotonous work of the Godfists continuing, and the soldiers of the Coalition on alert for a counterattack that never came.

Never came, that is, until the seventh night of the siege. Then the moon was new, and the land about the encampment dark. The soldiers were on high alert, or supposed to be, for this was exactly the type of time when the Kraalen were at their most fearsome - but rotating sleep could not defray all of the weariness of a constant vigilance, or the dulling of urgency which comes from boredom and ennui. Some of the soldiers slept where they should have been guarding, though only a small amount. The rest peered out into the blackness, watchful and alert.

And then in the distance a fire kindled - and another, and another. War cries filled the air, though curiously muffled. Men stood to attention, and messengers rushed through the encampment, calling those who slept to arms. Even as they ran, lights reached up from the fires, stars rising as pinpricks toward the horizon - before they resolved as flaming arrows from distant archers, falling about the encampment. Not toward the soldiers did these arrows fall, but toward supplies, toward tents, and most perfidiously toward where the wooden constructions of the Godfists lay, unlimbered for the night to save shot on unclear targets. No doubt the enemy had taken these days to be sure of their targets, and swiftly their incendiaries kindled where they fell....

“To arms! To arms!” the captains and generals shout in their many tongues, clanging bronzen and copper hilts against shields and blowing horns of brass and horn. The 94 bowless Khortuun and 124 Riverlanders are tasked with fetching supplies of water and hurling them upon the assaulted catapults, quickly soaking the powerful war machines in an effort to keep them from going alight - or to salvage the ones which already have. 100 men of Penithel are tasked with rousing the remainder of the army, attempting to dredge any sleepers from their tents. The goal is to evacuate any men from burning tents, as to minimize losses from stray arrowfire.

As these two regiments break away to perform their tasks, every awake soldier with a bow (approximately 604, though some may be asleep) scrambles to the front of the encampment to fire a lethal cavalcade back at their fearsome adversaries. 140 Corvidian men shod in their heavy Soulstone take the frontmost lines behind the barricades, hoping to absorb the majority of the arrowfire with their superior armor should the enemies switch their targets and fire back. The remainder of the men are instructed to spread apart as well as they can in a broad spread formation. The enemies are illuminated by firelight, their shadows cast across the plain - a foolish mistake on their part. Once they reach their posts, the combined archers (380 Composite Bows, 224 Bows) launch volley after volley at their enemies, seeking to stamp out this attack through a deadly hail of whistling arrows.

As the men of Penithel rouse the combined forces, new archers are instructed to take to the lines. Furthermore, once the fires are put out on the catapults (or at least, if any can be), the wheeled war machines are quickly dragged towards the back of the encampment and separated from one another. The men continue to soak them, attempting to keep any stray arrows from finding purchase. All the while everyone is going to be shouting to rouse the camp, bringing more bows and buckets to bear while hopefully preventing unnecessary deaths.

The men rouse swiftly - their nerves taunt but prepared. Fire rages throughout the camp, fabric and rope kindling before the blaze. Some of those mobilized rush down toward the river, swiftly forming a bucket brigade to fight the flames which lick against equipment, prioritizing the Godfists. Overhead arrows whizz out into the darkness, seeking for distant figures which flicker here and there near the flames. All is a pell-mell havoc for several minutes, but then the enemy arrows stop coming, and eventually the soldiers stop shooting.

The damage is not so great. Several bivouacs have been destroyed, and a few men slain, either by stray shots or trapped in the flames. More importantly, though, is the damage to the Godfists - the enemy’s priority target, it appears. The sturdy wooden construction of the machines has mostly withstood the brief brush with the flames, but some of the great torsion cables of the mechanisms, soaked through with oils to prevent rot and ward them against rain, had become small pyres to the ambitions of the coalition. The engineers salvage what they can, and present a report not long after the dawn.

By cannibalizing the damaged Godfists, two of the four machines could be operational within a day - but the others are wooden skeletons, not weapons of war. None of the cables within the camp, simple ropes and fastenings, seem up to the task of replacing the torsion bundles lost. The lead engineer states that he could work here with what they have, utilizing the ingenuity of his comrades and have replacements perhaps prepared in a month or so - but this would slow the siege greatly. It being nearly two months’ round trip to Rivermouth, there is also the question of if men should be sent back to retrieve spares of such valuable supplies beyond those which have already been utilized. There is also the question of supplies - some of the foodstuffs were ruined, lost in the burning bivouacs. It will not be a problem for some weeks, if rations are tightened, but it bodes ill to siege with a limited time at your back and men weakened with hunger.

The next morning the catapults resume firing - not spreading their shots around, but laboring to beach a single section of the wall at speed. Under their careful yet focused bombardment, it is not long before a breach is forced in the curtain wall of the city, ramparts and heart reduced to only so much heaped rubble - less than a week after the two Godfists were disabled.

While the bombardment is continued, a small section of the army goes forth - the defenses now completed. In short order they return, after afternoons of hard work siting and felling forest giants from the few groves around the city. These are laboriously turned into four heavy rams, primitive but stout, to crack timbers and batter down the defenses of the city which the Godfists have not already laid low.

Another week passes of the bombardment, men eyeing the city as it still lays quiescent under the assault. Another breach is gradually created on the north wall despite the efforts of the defenders, a tumbled pile of rubble which men can clamber over to access the heart of the city herself. The commanders of the coalition are in their tents, discussing strategy, when a frenzied whinny is heard from the eastern side of the encampment.

A message rider has come - their steed foaming at the mouth, legs shaking with exertion, and he sways in the saddle, barely able to keep his eyes open from exhaustion. Getting the message out of him is difficult, for his weariness makes his tongue stumble over the words - but eventually the crux of the missive is clear.

Rivermouth is under attack!

It came not more than a few nights ago, and the rider has pushed his steed to the very edge of death to swiftly come to the coalition encampment. Fearsome Kraalen, monstrous beasts, have been seen in the woods near the city, and the city-fathers fear a great host is there massing for an assault. There are mixed messages from several Republicans - some calling for the soldiers to return at speed, for a threat to the Rivermouth is of utmost importance even when compared to this assault. Others say that this must surely be a ruse, an attempt to buy time for the defenders of the city and that the coalition should press forward regardless - the Kraalen cannot be here in force, and their claws will ill bite upon the city herself.

Despite momentary unrest from those with homes and families to return to, soon clearer heads prevail - the absence of the Kraalen is a boon, not a bane. With ample opportunities to cross the crumbling wall now available to the coalition forces, it is decided - they attack at dawn.

In three groups the forces advance, strategically split against their prey. The four great logs align against the timber-braced doors, two score of bronze-armored soldiers supporting each one - hundreds of mounted men, some on the Republican unicorns, others atop the camels of the Many Mothers, protect these rams with arrow fire of their own. In the breaches the hounds of Corvus lead the way, scrambling up the rubble to the waiting spears of the foe, while determined men follow behind.

Both breaches are held by formidable forces of the warriors of the Hesukar, present in numbers, armor clad and ready for war. Their weapons cut down the dogs with ease, cruel copper intermixed with bronze, but they do not lose none of their own to baying beasts bred for war. Then the clash begins in earnest - men hard at the butcher’s work.

The weapons of the attackers bite keenly, but seem to cause little harm to most of those which fight them; catching on unnatural provisions of bone, or copper, or bronze. The armored men that fight in the breach fall but little in their turn, to be sure, but victory will ill be achieved by mere survival.

Elsewhere the soldiers rush forward, assaulting the gate. Some fall from spears and stones thrown from the gate, but soon the forest giants batter against the timbers, and arrows flit at the men and dun-faced soldiers above the entrance to the city.

The attackers will not be deterred by this resistance. As men fall, more clamber over the rubble and bodies to try and shove the defenders back, spears on shields, shield wall against shield wall. The gate trembles under the assault of the rams, but holds firm, even as bodies are piled before it.

Determined Riverlanders and sons of the Many Mothers dash forward to replace their fallen allies, keeping the monumental rams in motion even as a hail of projectiles bears down. This gate shall fall, though the price will be paid in blood. At the breaches the fight continues in earnest - no fel magics can resist the sheer force of many hundreds. Their blades flow as one, a bloody sacrifice to the gods’ honor.

Slowly, the forces at both breaches give way, pushed back by sheer numbers and with great loss of blood. Slowly, the timbers upon the gate give way, splintered and shattered beneath the heavy rams. Though the bodies of the slain are now heaped about the entrance to the city, only a ramshackle barricade of hastily piled timber and furniture now bars the way to the heart of Skras Tor, defended by men with fire in their hearts but whose hands grip spears like unfamiliar things. The gate is defended not by soldiers, but by men hastily trained for a few weeks after their city came under siege, preparing for this day. The first Coalition soldiers that press forward fall to spears thrown and the stones of slings, but after a few minutes with heavy axes they may now come to grips with their foes.

The forces push through their respective entrances, forming shield walls as able at the East and West Breaches. Even as the Sons of the Wolf fall in their heavy suits of bronze mail, bloodied and broken, their numbers are bolstered in turn by fanatical Bonadar and sturdy Republican men. The Republicans fight with a particularly notable fury, seeking revenge for ancient wrongs and raids in recent years. The men slowly press forwards - a methodical dismantling rather than a reckless charge.

At the gates, the Corvidians drop the ram and press forward, coming to blows with the militia. They form a shield wall, steadily and carefully marching forwards to dismantle whatever shoddy barricades stand in the way and the men behind them. Though their numbers have dwindled, the army at their back gives them more than enough confidence to press on.

The Riverlanders and Bonadar, atop their mighty steeds, confidently dismount with a kick and a swivel - the battle inward is to be on foot. They join up in the tightly packed force alongside their Corvidian brothers, pushing into this poorly trained foe.

Swiftly battle is joined, the Coalition troops doing their best to cut quickly through the militia rallied for the defense of the city even as their compatriots stalemate at the breaches. It is not a difficult thing to kill mostly unarmed men, but with arms weary from bearing the heavy ram some of even the foolishly armed militia claim the lives of the attackers. Not to mention those who fall to stones cast from above, the stubborn defenders of the city not yet convinced of their defeat.

At either breach the battle continues unabated - with the rubble now slick with blood. Where the armored elite fighters of the Hesukar go, the resistance stiffens into intractability, rending blows turned aside by sorcerous bone where armor does not serve, and their weapons of bronze and copper not nearly as well resisted by the mortal men who they oppose. Though the Hesukar have given some ground, allowing more men to shuffle forward into their inward semicircles of blades, they seem determined not to give more.

The blood toll grows - a steep price indeed. As the bronze-clad bodies of Corvus braves fall, Republicans and Bonadar step forward to replace them in the brunt of the attack - their allies briefly retreating behind the battle line to regain their wits, to steel their hearts.

At last, with fresh troops replacing the weary, a stroke of luck! The inexperienced militia-men, quickly taught the basics of the spear in just a few weeks, tire of watching their kinsmen be slaughtered, and fear that they are next - they all but turn and flee, the slowest of the bunch knocked clean out by the flats of sword blades and the heft of parting blows. On a dime, however, the professional army of the Coalition turns to the remaining foes - a few score of men dash up the interior stairs of the rough stone wall, turning their blades towards the cowardly stone-throwers - while the rest march along the wall to support their allies and kinsmen.

Heavily shod men move quickly to support the flanks, advancing to aid their fellows. At the more western breach, the foe appears to be losing heart, his numbers dwindling despite his fell magicks. But the bronze clad warriors of the east, upon whom the copper weapons of their foes bite but seldom and infrequently, stand indomitable amidst dozens of corpses. The last few soldiers who occupy the defenses above the gate put up a spirited defense, but most are promptly slain, while the rest flee wailing along the wall seeking refuge in the city below.

This battle is not quite over yet though. Their kinsfolk slain about them, and one in every three men cut down, the Corvidian soldiers at the western breach have had enough - they go forward no more into that hellsmouth littered with the slain, retreating in good order back towards the encampment, ignoring the pleas of their allies. The Sons of the Wolf have given enough blood on this day for the security of the Riverlands. After a short time in the breach the lightly-armed Pennethelli follow them, withdrawing at speed in the face of their mounting losses. Even the blue-decorated soldiers will not risk their lives on the blood-soaked rubble.

The gate soldiers now arrive at their targets, rushing to combat to aid their beleaguered comrades. Their flank charges drive home, discomfiting and slaying several of the remaining Hesukar soldiers. But it is not enough to immediately drive the foe from the field… and even as they arrive, the Bonadar on the eastern flank have had enough. They do not flee in terror, but terror is not far from their hearts at confronting soldiers of such undying potency, and they will fight no more as they withdraw from the field. The Corividans follow them shortly, nearly four men out of every five slain in battle. The Hesukar elites in their bronze are bloodied, battered, white bone showing in many wounds each, but still fighting.

In the western breach, the Hesukar at last break and flee, leaving their dead and wounded where they fall. It is at fearsome cost though - and with most of his men dead or dying, the Republican captain chooses discretion as the better part of valor and lets them go, withdrawing his own men to nurse their wounds.

Those of the stout Corvidians and Khortuun which remain, and the archers upon the walls, cut down those of the foe who they can, before their commanders rally them - their allies to the east fight still no doubt, based on the sounds of warfare, and they must be aided! Quickly they hurry eastward, to where body and blood and bronze labor to bring down beasts of will and dark magic.

And yet even with the support of the west, it wasn’t enough. The evil magics of the Hesukar had strengthened their elite soldiers beyond mortal comprehension - what should be fatal blows simply shrugged off, only to return a deadly blade in reply. Men fall, and hearts fail. Horns sound. The Coalition retreats.

Men remount their steeds, watching over their backs. Only the foolish of both camps keep fighting - neither side truly won with the blood spilled on this day. The allied forces reconvene at their encampment, but the battle is all but over - few remaining are strong enough to return to the fray, and fewer still would want to. Perhaps another year - it’s time to head home.

Total Casualties: 92 Pennenthelli, 217 Republicans, 191 Corvidians, 101 Khortuun, 33 Eleskari
100 Rivermouth Explorers have vanished in the Kraalen assault...

by **Ralnis** » Mon Apr 12, 2021 2:09 pm

Island of Lo,
Warcyfle

The first time for in over six years the scouts had came with news. They found something that wasn't the Ithoi or the Island of Savages, but something entirely else. The galley had came across much of the seas but went into shallow waters to find something else entirely. These people lived in stone cities and had a settlement that they had found. There was a river that they could found which made them believe that these people had a near equal amount of advancement as they do.

These unknown people caused a bit of uproar with the Council. The Warhawks wanted to try and do a slave raid at least since taking them on in a river with staunch walls was going to be difficult for them. However the larger voices were those who remembered the mainland and the Ithoi. They were ever looming and knew where they lived. They couldn't risk open war with someone as equal as them and they had access to wealth or other means to try and help them against the overarching threat that was the Sons of the One God.

It was decided by the Council and Grum that making a first contact with them and extend a hand of trade. It was also because that the scholars are trying to reform the government to handle the expansions of conquering another culture. It would be something that would be needed if the Warcyfle were to become more than just the one island city. On another note, the Aun'kal wanted to expand their trade with them as they loved the other gift of the bemire to their navy.

Grum raised an eyebrow concerning that they would do this and that they wanted the Warcyfle to make a trade post with them instead of the other way around. With fifteen loads of treasure was more than enough to get Grum to shift focus for the expansion of another Wharf and the merchants were already giving thanks to the Storm Father for more profit to be going along their pockets and the advancement of their people with the Aun'kal in the matters of trade and friendship.

This also came with the expansion of the agriculture with another farm to handle the new generation of those about to go in adulthood. Already the explorer corps was looking for a new generation on top of more troops to try and field the growing number of naval ships with bronze and Teslanite at the helm. They of course make Grum happy as more people to increase the number of ships that could be fielded in the region. They could be their own shield and eventually become their own hammer.

The very idea for Grum to have his own navy that can fend off the Ithoi and even make an empire for themselves. However Gu, and Grum had prepared for the long road. Gu was too ambitious and Grum was giving weapons to those who couldn't do anything but ask them to explore on their own behalf. It was fine, for the Aun'kal are a shield and the Ithoi are a threat that has tied the two together, Grum, and his successor, needed to know when it was time to unleash the wrath of the Storm Father upon those who had wronged them or threaten them.

However, the new people didn't do this to them and the Sons of the One God need to be found and defeated before the Sons of the Dawn are finally clouded. Only then can the Warcyfle will be the true force that the Seas will know.

As for now, an envoy was sent to the newly discovered civilization with hope of trade and prosperity. The scouts were sent out again to make another expedition to find what they wanted to find. Beyond the waters outside of the region will be that of Lo and the force that will be the bringer of the storm. And because of this, a school and archives were made to get more people like scholars and scouts to help advance the knowledge of Tes'la's favored.

Yes, a school is just what was needed.

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

Who is online