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

by **The Empire of Tau** » Fri Jan 22, 2021 11:04 am

WIP Post

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Fri Jan 22, 2021 11:51 am

The Land of Penithel

There was much work being done by the children of the River-Father, his sons climbed rickety scaffolds which swayed dangerously with each gust of wind driving mightily across the wide plain with little to stop or slow it's progress. They labored hard to raise the stones ripped from the grip of the plains into a mighty wall, using the knowledge gained from the Northerners to bind them together, with such a mighty fortification, what man would ever come and steal the gold of the Pennenthelli? Who could possibly come and take their women and children as slaves? High spirits gripped the people as they laid down in proper huts, and slept in proper beds stuffed with straw after a long day of hard work. No longer was a rude shack all that awaited after a long day of hard work, now there was the laughter of families gathered to take their evening meals in their modest huts, an improvement over what had been before. Not only was a mighty wall rising, new paths were charted by enterprising hunters where much game could be found between the local watering holes and the mothers of the Pennenthelli had come to the King, wishing for a place where learned men would help them through the rigors of childbirth all while the blue priests and priestesses of the River-Father and Earth-Mother studied the healing crafts of their wise ancestors, many of which had been lost to time...

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Fri Jan 22, 2021 12:06 pm

The Deepkin

Forgefend Way, Kharbarinth
Seventh of Icewind, Year Twohundred Ten of the Reckoning

Beneath the dwellings of simple hide and fur, the family shivered. The storms from the north had brought heavy snows, and the drifts in many parts lay nearly knee-deep. Though a feeble fire was burning outside their tent, the warmth barely reached in here, where Adriaticus' two sons and his wife huddled under thick blankets. He looked out into the swirling snow from beneath thick eyebrows flecked with gray, watching for something - though he hadn't told his wife what he was up looking for.

Then came the clatter of hooves. It was faint on the road here far away from the city, where only beaten dirt paths stretched. But it was unmistakeable. Adriaticus rose, peering into the gloom.

Suddenly the man and horse emerged from the swirling precipitation and shadowy evening. After a moment's gaze the man slipped down off of the chestnut gelding, and grasped forearms with the old veteran.

"They approve it." The younger man said in low tones, obviously trying not to wake the man's family.

A broad smile crossed the elderly gentleman's face, and the other man half-bowed, apparently glad to have been of service. He then remounted his steed - a difficult task for all but the most athletic - and disappeared once more into the snow.

by **The GAmeTopians** » Fri Jan 22, 2021 10:53 pm

The Republic of the Great River

Sunsbirth Cavern, Rivermouth
Midsommar’s Day, Year Two Hundred and Ten of the River’s Birth

It was a calm Midsommar on the banks of the Great River, and the contentedness of the Republic as a whole was palpable in the air. The peoples’ bellies were full, every man, woman, and child had a roof over their head at night, and the new generations of the River’s kin were rapidly growing. It was time now for their able hands and eager hearts to return to one of the great mysteries their ancestors had passed down: the secrets of the Sunstone, the glowing rock buried in the depths of the plains.

Perhaps centuries later, the descendants of the Riverlands would not even remember this particular moment in history - the violent tales of war were much more riveting, and the construction of the great Wonders of the world much more awe-inspiring. And yet, to the laborers and craftsmen, the scholars and leaders that looked down into the glowing maw of the Sunsbirth, none could fathom a greater story to pass down their line. The day the belly of the earth was opened up by the children of the River, and shone with the light of the sun.

by **Ralnis** » Sat Jan 23, 2021 3:22 am

Warcyfle

No fluff this time around, was too stuck with work but will make something for the next one.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Sat Jan 23, 2021 9:35 am

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Sat Jan 23, 2021 1:15 pm

Year 210 of the Reckoning
Turn 6

Zhai Cheng: Word comes from the north - in exchange for a tribute of four Wealth, the Huanca will share the mysteries of riding the powerful horse.

Daru: The emissaries are received once more by the Huanca - the Master of the High City notes that they will pay three Wealth for four stone, if the Nirari can serve this need.

Eleskar: Efforts to map the local power points are successful - four loci of the energy of the bones of the earth are identified, places where wise mages might tap into the strength of this mystic power.

Machaka: Misfortune stalks the Machaka. Though the blessings of the great God-Spiders are clear, those who venture beyond their protective ken seem not so safe. Men sent south along the river to glean for food fail to return in the autumn - scouts sent out report signs of a titanic struggle, and footsteps leading southwest in great lines. Some bodies of the innocent peasants are to be found. -100 Peasants

There is, however, good news. Speech with the God-Spiders is finally perfected. They seem to be fairly simple beasts, capable of communication after the fashion of child or senile elder - but their needs are straightforward, and their desires obvious. Recruiting them with food to fight alongside the Machaka could now be accomplished, a terrifying manner of warfare.

Kharbarinth: East of southeast of southeast up the White River the explorers venture, following the waterway as it flows up out of the east. Great stands of amber barley grow here along the riverbanks, and black coal scars the soil of the forests. Tall apple trees also flourish in the highland to the north. To the north rise familiar mountains, and to both east and south lie thick woodlands.

Singing bows will lie low many foes, especially from atop high walls. With bone and horn and carefully distilled glue the artisans of the Deepkin have produced the first prototypes of these weapons, something welcomed by their military comrades.

Rivermouth: To take muddy soil and produce a thing as fine as a ceramic part is an art indeed - the methods of the kiln, and the shaping, and the firing, now no longer elude the wise men of the Republic.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Sat Jan 23, 2021 1:22 pm

中国

Zhai Cheng had stood resolute growing stronger. It had been years since the Pillaging of Zhongdu, and Yuan Jianzhu had made sure to strengthen the army, this world was violent, and who knows when another threat would come to the city. What had happened at Zhongdu was a crime plain and simple. These barbarians would think what they did was glorious. It was not, from a objective point of view they came to a village made up of hunter and gatherers greatly outnumbering the folk who lived there.The few warriors guarding the village fought valiantly and bravely, they would not be forgotten.

Zhongdu would be rebuilt stronger then ever.

In the meantime let the barbarians test their strength against the Middle Kingdom the walls would be painted red with their blood.

by **Nuxipal** » Sun Jan 24, 2021 12:38 am

The City of Daru
Year of the Ancestor 116

The possibility to trade with the Huanca was a great boon to the city. Stone for their wealth would help to cement the trade pact well. With hopes of forming a full trading post within the city for the Huanca to trade freely in Daru, Kirtar sends forth the promise to the Huanca. Daru was not on a river, nor along the coastlines, but it was located between multiple city-states. A precarious position to be sure, but one that provided opportunity to collect wealth and influence from the surrounding lands.

To give thanks to this newly found trade partner, Kirtar dedicated a third of the wealth from this trade to the Ancestor. Depositing it in her shrine and giving praise and thanks for the prosperity she was bringing to the city of her chosen people. However, where there was good news, the lack of attention coming from the northern envoys was concerning. No new envoys were sent north as they were sent back south to maintain contact and relations with the Huanca. To better facilitate the trade that would inevitably have to come to and go out from Daru, watch posts were established in the Rural regions of the city to help alert the warriors of incoming danger as well as to keep a eye out for incoming caravans to better prepare for the future.

For that future, the warriors of the Nirari should be from the backs of their great steeds, steeds the Ancestor granted to them and that others envied and tried to steal from them. These majestic beasts were treated as well as other workers of the city in their contribution to the growth and wealth of the city. Thus, the scholars of the city sought to join their strength and the strength of the warriors together providing for the city a new way to conduct warfare.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Sun Jan 24, 2021 12:13 pm

The Deepkin

Outskirts, Kharbarinth
Fourth of Midyear, Year Twohundred Twelve of the Reckoning

One twitch, and the warrior released the tension on his wrist. His fingers slipped apart, almost imperceptibly, and the bow sang. The hawk-fletched arrow flitted through the air, almost lofting of its own accord, and with a heavy thump embedded itself in the target.

Marik cursed. Still off of the mark. His comrade smiled, and several of the other men practicing at the range laughed outright.

"It pulls so much more down than you would think."

His own voice sounded hollow in his ears, provoking another chuckle from one of the nearby warriors. Marik glowered at the red-haired woman, who returned his gaze levelly. She drew her own bowstring back, almost to her ear, and then with a hearty singing shriek sent her own arrow speeding to the heart - of his target.

"No need to show off Natalia." Gerrus' voice had a smile in it to take away the sting, but Marik's sparring partner obviously didn't appreciate his friend being chivvied. The other warrior sniffed, before stalking away towards the fencing ring.

"You'll get it. You just need more practice."

Gerrus was right. The new heavy composite bows weren't really that dissimilar to the simple wooden constructions the warriors of the Highprince had practiced with. They simply cast more weighty shot, at higher speeds, and so were more particular about how you handled them. The formidable lengths of horn and bone let one bend the bow more fulsomely, and so imparted more strength to the arrow as it left the bow. All this Marik appreciated, but he was not a patient man. An excellent hammerer, a wielder of one of the heavy two-handed poles which the shock troops of the Deepkin favored, he was more given to bludgeoning than this dancing with ranged weapons.

But such training was required of all the soldiers of the City of Bells, and the City of Steel. Such were the ways of the world.

by **Olthenia** » Sun Jan 24, 2021 3:33 pm

Title: Servant in repose
Period: Antiquity
Date: 1st or 2nd century of Hegemonic Reckoning
Culture: Khortuun
Medium: Star-stone
Dimensions: H. with plinth 6 5/8 in. (16.8 cm)
Classification: Stone Sculpture
Credit Line: Purchase, Volpon-Rogarian's Fund, 1923
Accession Number: 23.160.82

This statuette is a good example of a well-known subject, the servant waiting to escort his mistress home. To date, a terracotta statuette from the northern region of the Ustaran desert provides the earliest known evidence for this type. In this case, the sleeping boy's partial nakedness and exhausted state suggest that he is a slave or servant. His pose may have been inspired by a famous contemporary statue of Bakkalon the Pale Child, a lesser-known war-spirit theorized to be of Nirari origin.

The subject was popular in early antiquity, when stone examples served as sculptures in communal gardens in Sorrowfree, and bronze and silver variations were made into luxurious household objects such as inkwells and spice-castors. – evidence which in turn speaks to a violent fact of life in the region: the presence of slavery and war. Other honorable mentions in the same vein include the lesser known “Gilded Woman” exhibited by Alphonse Galtok in 1879, and the since lost “Eastern Promises” noted in Master Elurias’ Journal of Wonders.

To the everyday observer, the pose and features of the person depicted seem at once generically human. Closer observation yields tell-tale clues to the figure’s identity, however; namely his ethnicity: Huang. Mistress Axford theorizes in her Commentaries that the figure depicts a war-captive - something the subject’s young age appears to support. With the brevity for which she is known, Axford states the following: “Not a soldier then, but a commoner seized as a spoil of war.”

While slave-taking raids were not unheard of in Khortuun society, it is attested in several ancient sources that the old matriarchs held the institution as a subject worthy of debate, if not regard.

Similarly, the Corvidian law-singer Lenan Twice-Cursed is quoted in his eponymous work Thus Spoke My Wives as saying that:

Eᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ʙʀɪᴄᴋ ʟᴀɪᴅ ɪɴ Sᴏʀʀᴏᴡғʀᴇᴇ,
Eᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ʟᴏɢ sʜᴀᴘᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ,
Is ᴅᴏɴᴇ ʙʏ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ғʀᴇᴇ.

Lenan's grasp of ancient pentameter aside; his message is simply this – that one third of all public work amongst the Khortuun is performed by un-free hands. If Lenan's verse is accurate, then that is certainly a sobering thought.

by **Elerian** » Sun Jan 24, 2021 3:36 pm

Aled Aedryn

Knowledge is of the King of the Deep.
To understand knowledge is to postulate themselves before Him, and a duty done in reverent service to His will.
All does Gedymdeith know and comprehend, and mortals, unto to us is given the desire.
Gedymdeith marks those of distinction, the man who has respect for that which He knows.
However futile to covet all that Gedymdeith knows to be true, exalted still in the life-thereafter will they be.
Forge forward that they might find thine path of knowledge, trudge slow, and however far you may, such is a blessing of the God of the Deep, with every breath and every day.

by **Pragia** » Sun Jan 24, 2021 4:57 pm

The town center would be abuzz with goodbyes and well wishes as the first explorers would be gearing up to leave their homes for their first great expedition. Two long years of training had resulted in a very prepared, and very knowledgeable group of adventures who would go forth with the intent of discovering new peoples, new material, and new knowledge. Despite their lack of bookish demeanor, they would not be proper Eleskar without the ability to write on the parchment sheets and clay tablets they would be given to document their great journey. While mapping was not something the still-experimenting scholars were working on under the watchful eyes of their magister. Measurement was difficult, the Eleskar still working on trying to standardize the distance of a pace to be noted.

In addition the the working toward a system of distances to allow for the creation of maps, they were still trying to master the clay that they have familiarized themselves with for over a decade. Enterprising scholars still tried various methods of binding the clay in wood, heating and cooling it at various temperatures and with different materials. While Parchment made from Elk hide was now possible to be made, it was not plentiful enough to be used for standard writings, even the dictates of the Magister would not be put onto parchment.

Finally, the work of discovering the origins of their magical abilities was of special note to the magi. Other than the power point in the center of town, there were 3 more located in the nearby area. One of which would be designated to be worked on, the magi preparing the land for quarries and mines which would take the drastic effort of trying to seek the true source of this power.

by **The Empire of Tau** » Sun Jan 24, 2021 5:02 pm

by **Lazarian** » Sun Jan 24, 2021 5:39 pm

Corvus

The Outlands
Eightteenth of Harvesttime

As the moon rose in the sky, the guardsmen began setting up for the night. A fire was struck, warm furs were set out upon the ground, and the hunting dogs were fed and staked nearby.

The soldiers of the village were currently patrolling the outlands, surveying and protecting the workers who were busily erecting guard towers. Tribelord Crennon the Builder had mandated many constructions this year. While the workers of the village griped about long hours and hard work, none could deny the usefulness of these projects. A new paddock for future herds, guard towers to watch for invaders, and a place of learning to produce more educated men of society. Skilled craftsmen and wise scholars - the lifeblood of an ancient economy. It was only fitting - the Spirit-Guides had finally mastered the flowing script of the Aederfolk after many long years of learning and practice. Now, traditions could be written on sheets of dried skin and knowledge preserved. A monumental achievement, though most in the hill-city did not truly recognize the true magnitude of this accomplishment.

Jevon Dreamweaver laid against the tree they sat underneath, an oak which towered above the sea of wheatgrass that surrounded them. He was a newer member of the Crimson Pack, having joined the raid on Zhongdu at the age of 16 as a trainee soldier.

He was still haunted by it, in a way. The young man slept fitfully to this day, foul spirits haunting his dreams with visages of both fallen friends and foes. Often, he would awake in a sweat, clutching his spear - only to find no enemies around.

Sitting next to him was his commander, Craenon Sharpeye. The Conquerer, the Warlord of the Wolves, the Chosen of Vennon. And more likely than not, the next Tribelord. Currently thirty-two years of age, he would be eligible for the role when his brother’s term expired in six years. There were many reasons Craenon was popular, but the foremost was probably that he was a man of the people. Always available to chat and discourse with the men of the city, regardless of their wealth or social status. The two were in the midst of a conversation, seated somewhat away from the others.

“Do you ever feel bad about what we did?” Jevon asked Craenon, as he took a hearty bite from the dried and smoked meat they had packed. “I'm not saying what we did was wrong - the gods wanted us to do it. That's what all the spirit-guides say, and I trust in their guidance and the wisdom of our ancestors. But I can't help but think...those men were likely just defending their homes like we would defend ours. Is it their fault they picked the wrong gods to worship?”

Craenon grinned. A teachable moment here. A moment to spread his rhetoric.

“I don't particularly feel any guilt.” replied the warlord casually, leaning against the oak tree they were resting beneath. He paused, lingering on his thoughts for a few moments. The other men nearby turned to him, interested by this line of conversation. A few stood and walked closer, eager to hear their leader's words.

“Think with me for a moment, Jevon. Does a wolf think about right or wrong when it tears a goat to shreds? Does this tree muse about the morality of its actions when it chokes out a shrub?”

“...I doubt it.” replied Jevon, shaking his head.

“Exactly. And therefore, we should likewise accept the natural order. There is no need for remorse or regret. It is only right that the strong shall hold dominion over the weak. This is the way of the world.” Craenon boasted loudly, pointing to the black tattoos which adorned his arms. Five lines, signifying five kills. The other men laughed, some raising their fists in approval. “We are the wolves, Jevon! It is our destiny to overrun the weak, to take their wealth and possessions for our own. It is our right!”

“Don’t you ever think they’ll come to seek revenge?” the young man replied nervously, still not entirely convinced.

“Oh, absolutely.” Craenon sneered. There was a moment of silence, the whole camp hanging on his every word.

“And I will add many more marks to my arms when they do!” he crowed, and the other men hooted and hollered in assent.

Jevon nodded reluctantly, smiling nervously. In the back of his mind, though, a single fearful thought arose.

What kind of a people would they become under the leadership of such a man and such ideas?

by **The GAmeTopians** » Mon Jan 25, 2021 12:29 am

The Republic of the Great River

Rivermouth Outskirts
Midwinter's Eve, Year Two Hundred and Twelve of the River’s Birth

The primitive hoists drawn by hundreds of laborers moved as one along the walls of the River's Jewel, great stones cut from the earth joining together with the paste formulated by their ancestors. The great man-made mound of rock was already taller than two men, and wide enough for one at least - It was not itself a complex construction, but it was intimidating, and it would serve its purpose. The citizens of the greatest (and only) Republic in the world would remain secure behind its mass, from any who would dare raise blades against it.

Apologies for the brief blurb. More tales of the Riverlands will come forthwith in the coming days.

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Mon Jan 25, 2021 2:47 am

Pillar of Varra
Varra, Urban District

Varra gathers her strength, whilst there is still peace upon the verdant plains

by **Ralnis** » Mon Jan 25, 2021 8:39 am

Warcyfle

The capital had seen the accumulated wealth of the new taxes come to Gu. The merchants again had seen the wealth go to the Aun'kal but had seen the artisans, pleased by the Storm God, making just as much back. As much as it pains the chieftain, he could finally see the tribute being paid in full and the trade of their allies being seen again. The new building of an extension of slums is seen being worked on. A bunch of hide tents that showed the depression of wealth that Gu used to have but the thing is that his people would no longer need to have tents anymore. He would make them comfortable homes and he will get the people back on his side.

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Mon Jan 25, 2021 12:44 pm

The Land of Penithel

"And so the Pennenthelli labored, the scholarly ones engrossed in study and the many working hands raising a nursery where the expecting mothers would be tended and cared for by wise midwives and caring priests singing the 33 Sermons of the River-Father, calling his divine gaze to bring hale and hearty children to his people and lessen the dangers of holy motherhood."

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Mon Jan 25, 2021 2:27 pm

Year 212 of the Reckoning
Turn 7

Zhai Cheng: The emissaries sent to confer with the Huanca have not returned. But all is not dark. Great whales have been sighted off the coast of Zhai Cheng, breaching and displaying pale bellies under the night sky. After several months of these displays immense white pearls of great value begin to turn up in the tides, a bounty of grand proportions to the right men. +4 Wealth

Daru: The stone for the trade has been assembled, but languishes in the yards of Daru. With no men sent to deliver such large quantities of goods, the trade is unaccomplished, a fact which no doubt looks bad in the eyes of the Huanca.

Kharbarinth: Southeast of east of east the explorers of the Deepkin range, up into the mountains which loom south of Stalheim. Great veins of white stone are to be found here, shot through with pale crystal, as well as stern granite faces ripe for quarrying. Pale green ore is also to be found here, but it possesses a curious quality, shimmering on the edge of one's vision when they turn away. There are no signs of men. To the east and south the isolated mountain peaks drop away into foothills and forested lowlands.

Sorrowfree: Keen bows, reinforced with horn and bone of the prey of the Khortuun, shoot further and farther than the simple wooden contraptions the Bonadar currently wield. The thick lacquer of glue and sinew is vulnerable to wet, but this is scarcely a concern for the people of Sorrowfree. In the flight of their arrows, surely their foes shall fall. Moreover the wise women have discovered more, how to carefully anneal hard clays of the valley, how to shape them and mold them into vessels as hard as stone for the storage of food and other goods. These are grand times for the folk of Sorrowfree!

Dol Aelyd: Workers have downed tools in Dol Aelyd, demanding better working conditions and living quarters. The Artisans and Scholars are on strike! +5 Stability

Varra: The scouts sent forth return with word that wild men inhabit the region quite nearby, just to the northwest. Thankfully, they seem to have been undetected in their approach. Exactly what numbers or weapons the barbarians boast is unclear, but they seem relatively primitive.

Avnelin: Flourishing are the lands of the Penithel, and all that lacks, in the minds of some, is a method whereby men might gain strength over those around them. Rumors have come south from the Riverlanders, of the fearsome Hesukar and their magicks. Some of the Penithel choose to emulate this worship of the Black Kings, and have discovered... knowledge... for good or ill. The arcana of Bone-Shaping are revealed to the Penithel.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Mon Jan 25, 2021 4:26 pm

中国

Zhai Cheng continued to grow in wealth and prosperity, and with the Taixue nearly completed the minds of the city's youth would soon be able to blossom.

Meanwhile the scholars would get to work on the ancient craft of silk making. It was an idea an old one, that predated the learned men by centuries. Through the centuries the wise men and wise women had worked on this art nearly perfecting their craft. It was incredibly difficult for one they had to to work with a wild species of moth, slowly domesticating it throughout the years so that it could be produce the amounts of silk needed for crafting. But the efforts were worth it. Silk would be far more valuable then cotton, and would make the Huang very wealthy indeed.

by **Pragia** » Mon Jan 25, 2021 6:06 pm

"And so, The First Magister, the Shaper of Words, Syndra Eleskar died peacefully in the Hall of El'es. May Har'kal guide her soul through to the next life, and may she continue in this world through our memories and our words."
-The Remembrance of the Early Magistrate

The loss of the First Magister brought a time of mourning upon her people. The Eleskar, true to her wishes, would have the Council of the Seven select the heir from among her immediate relatives. It was decided that her Firstborn son, Halan Eleskar, a competent magi and scholar, would succeed her. Halan was notable for sympathizing with the explorers who were now well beyond the knowledge of the sages. He believed that while her mother's priorities of writing were valid, the future of the Eleskar lie beyond just their studies. He believed that with contact of other peoples, they will be able to demonstrate their power and knowledge, and acquire their neighbors. This domineering attitude toward knowledge would be complimented by a naïve optimism that other cultures would embrace their way of thinking.

His council held considerable sway still, nonetheless, with Jorin Kelska continuing to lead the efforts to unearth the source of their power, having finished clearing away the forest and digging a deep quarry, where blocks of the hardened rock would be hewn and torn away at, guided by magi seeking the ultimate prize.

by **Nuxipal** » Tue Jan 26, 2021 9:01 am

The City of Daru
Year of the Ancestor 118

As the new year rises, Kirtar continues his rule in the Ancestor's city of Daru. The scholars residing within the city are busy at work seeking to give any advantage they can to the people and soldiers of Daru. While they haven't discovered the secrets to utilizing unicorns further, they continue their sacred work within the confines of the city. Beyond the walls, trade takes place between Daru and Huanca as a caravan of people take stone south under escort to the Huanca city. The initiation of this trade would hopefully lead to future endeavors to the benefit of both settlements.

by **The GAmeTopians** » Tue Jan 26, 2021 9:42 am

The Republic of the Great River

Rivermouth Outskirts
Eighth of Harvest, Year Two Hundred and Fourteen of the River’s Birth

The road to Rivermouth proper was not a road in the modern sense - it was not paved with asphalt nor stone, nor was it even properly packed smooth with dirt. Yet the hundreds and hundreds of boots that passed through this archway each sunrise and sunset had made the route smooth with time, and killed the plains grass beneath their feet. This resulted in a smooth, easily followed (if informal) path to and through the walls of the great River's Jewel.

"Halt, in the name of the Republic! State your business." The two guards that flanked the archway in the wall stepped into the gap. Before them stood half a dozen or so cloaked figures - perhaps not the most unusual sight in these times, but the outlines of weapons along their waist were more of a concern. The leader of the pack pulled his hood back with one hand, and shook his hair out, a long black mane common in these parts. His face, though, was immediately recognizable, and the guards bowed hurriedly.

"Servants of the Council. We bring news of the Pennethelli to the south." The Hand of the Council was not one they had the authority to block, regardless of his business. Frankly, they probably could have been executed simply for standing in his path, if he were a man of that disposition. Either way, they had no desire to find out, and quickly resumed their original positions.

"Very well, kinsman. River be with you."

So went another day in the Jewel of the East. So went another day in this strange world.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Tue Jan 26, 2021 12:12 pm

The Deepkin

Avenue of Swords, Stalheim
Twelfth of First Seed, Year Twohundred Fourteen of the Reckoning

Overhead the clouds threatened rain, but within the great inner room of the hall of makers all was dry, and indeed, perhaps quite a bit too warm. The heat of the furnaces around the room filled the chamber, and the dozen men stripped to the waist were covered in both sweat and grime. Hammers rose and fell, and slowly but surely piles of hooks, cambers, and mooring anchors began to rise from the packed earth floor. Here was the heart of the industry of the City of Steel, here on the eastern banks of the Black River. Men might look to the mines that fed the forges, or the great smelters where the brilliant white ore was transmuted into glittering iron ingots - but ingots did not make cities, smiths made cities.

So the creators of the Avenue of Swords had thought, at least. The society of the Deepkin was built around such collaborations, where men of means and wealth underpinned the operations of skilled workers with ample funding and aspirations. Beyond the beautiful groves where majestic white pines flourished in the care of men who would one day fell them to feed the fires, the beating heart of Stalheim pulsed.

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

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