The Journey West [Gwalethia Only, Closed]

[Aeternaea]

The Journey West (10th Day of Gu'Liu'Tae, 1110 WE)

This is a recorded event in the Aeternaean Chronicles in which a group of diplomats, scholars, holy representatives, and soldiers were given a Holy Mandate to explore the Western Continent of S'Kar on orders from the Eternal Throne.
This group, dubbed The Earthly Souls gathered in the capital of Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae; Fy'O'Tae'S - The Great Fortress of the West, in order to prepare before their journey that would bring them into direct contact with the many S'Kar'Rho nations.
The goal of this mission was merely to build up their records of each of these nations - adding onto their vast libraries, in which the sources of which are unknown to the west.

The Eternal Capital of the Heartlands

Far from the continent of S'Kar; further east than most can imagine - in the ancient capital of Aeternaea, we find the Eternal Senate - a building older than any nation. Here is where all of Aeternaea is managed and governed, from the ancient Heartlands to the loyal Mainlands. From the islands at the edge of the world to the lands at the edge of the plains. Inside, we find the many great people who would debate among each other; aiming to gain favour with the Eternal Throne. Yet today... today is a bit different...

The Eternal Senate has just concluded its last session of the day. Many proposals came forward; ranging from minor issues such as the expansion of the farmlands in the Western Mainlands, to complex issues such as whom would be placed as the new Vice Admiral of the Northern Fleets that patrol the Sea of the Damned. However, these were all fairly normal issues, nothing that would draw any special attention. It was a normal day. At least until a single proposal was nearing its turn to be debated: The Journey West. Before anyone knew it, it was named a Holy Edict. It had the stated objective of sending a new group of scholars to the west, to gather knowledge and wisdom and add to the great libraries and archives of the Eternal Capital.

Now before we go into details on this item, it must be known that one might think that bureaucracy in the Eternal Capital would cause many proposals to be delayed, and one would be correct in some cases. But this was different. This proposal was initially meant to be an “Upper Proposal” by the Ten Great Families; which would have led to it being debated with a great amount of rigour, yet before it even came forth for debate; the Second Prince of the Realm entered the council chambers and brought forward a decree from the Eternal Throne itself. The decree said as follows;

“The Eternal Throne, in all its wisdom, has reviewed this proposal with great interest; we believe it is time to send our loyal friends in Bak’Ee’Ne’Vae as messengers to the west – not in secret, but as diplomats and envoys. We fully back this initiative and will hereby grant this proposal our holy blessing.”

With those words, the entire Senate stood silent. The debate that was expected did not happen. The vote was unanimous. It is important to note that Aeternaea holds quite possibly the greatest collection of knowledge in the known and unknown world; they gathered it through their ancient history and existence – choosing to collect absolutely every shred of documentation they could. They even know very detailed information about the people of S’Kar – although these details were gathered more overtly, as they view these nations as “Children Nations”, and prefer to watch them from a distance, as a scholar would observe a wild animal. This time, however, they will have Bak’Ee’Ne’Vae interact directly with them, to see exactly how “wild” and “civilised” these nations are…

Days later, at the Capital of Bak’Ee’Ne’Vae

In the Great Fortress of the West, the Capital of Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae, known to the S'Kar'Rho'i as Bakvae, adventurers from all across the Heavenly Mandate of Aeternaea have gathered; Scholars direct from the Ancient Universities in the Heartlands, Soldiers hailing from the border protectorates, Sailors from the Eternal Fleets of the Ae'Tae'ii Ocean - whom will be splitting off to meet with the group later, Diplomats trained in the arts of the trade here in Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae, Holy Priests whom gave their lives to the Eternal Faith - ensuring that their successors were already trained enough to continue their legacies, and even young Nobles whom are filled with wanderlust. Each and every one of them has had to pass exams and tests in order to be selected to go on this journey, and each and every one of them is truly loyal and faithful to the Eternal Faith. They would all gladly die in the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom, knowing that should anything happen to them; the Eternal Throne will do whatever they must in order to repay their sacrifice, as had been done countless times throughout the millennia.

As the group gathered near the departure site, they were approached by a Holy Messenger approached them, having been dispatched directly from the Eternal Capital. In his hands he carried two types of items; the first being a map that would describe the route and journey that they would be taking. The second would be a handwritten note given to each and every individual who had been chosen to partake on this journey. These notes were each unique, and written by the Eternal Ruler themselves, as the ruler had taken his time to personally learn about each and every individual that would be going on this mission. Each adventurer knew that the Eternal Leader would personally have their names recorded into the great stories and histories of the world; ensuring that they too would be Eternal.

The adventurers read their notes; some wept, some cheered. Some merely smiled, whilst others prayed. To them, this was a moment that only they could understand. Soon, they would be going on their journey. All that was left was to await the one who would be the leader of this trip. A leader which has been serving in the West already, and had the knowledge needed to guide them through the trials that they would be facing. And soon, this person had arrived...

We would kindly like to request that all the nations in the region write-up a base description of whom/what/where the group of scholars and adventurers will encounter upon entering the boundaries of your region. These are all up to you to describe and design, but please keep in mind the Regional Limitations and rules when doing them. If you have any questions, please reach out!

If you wish to join us in this, please do not hesitate to join our region of Gwalethia, or go directly to the Regional Application

[Feudal Albionica]

Suthwicke, Kingdom of Albionica
Great Port

---

The hustle and bustle of the Great Port at Suthwicke was always a sight to behold, ever since its founding in 102 AF. As the largest harbour on the southern coast of Albionica's mainland, the busyness of such a location was to be expected, but not quite to its true extent. Lord Richard Arundel was the Earl of Suthwicke and he had proved himself more than able to defend the city, which was one of the most important parts of the Albionican economy. All trade from Lokhaven and Eastern S'kar passed through Suthwicke and it showed, the city prospered under the protection of its Lord and the watchful guidance of its Burghers.

Tall, grand walls protected the harbour and city. These high towers and bastions had taken twenty years to build and were the first thing ordered by Lord Suthwicke on the inheritance of his title, which had happened at the tender age of sixteen. He had been a man for three years and was out for marriage, it was at the royal court that he had met Lady Elizabeth Hyde, of the Hydes of Langhram. At fifteen they had married and she gave Richard his first child when the pair were seventeen. The child was Richard Fitz-Hyde Arundel and he remained Lord Richard Arundel's heir. The noble, bold and beautiful Lady Elizabeth had died at age twenty while giving birth to Richard's first daughter, who he named Elizabeth in her honour, her last wonderful gift to him. Lady Hyde was the sole female landowner in the country and many horrible rumours had emerged following her sad death, her vast agricultural lands being inherited by Lord Suthwicke, to the tune of 6,400 acres.

Her statue stood in the centre of Harbour Square and her image, immortalised in marble, watched the sailors go about their business, that statue had stood for sixteen years and not once had it been vandalised. Many a foreigner had found his throat cut for daring to even touch it roughly. Lady Elizabeth Hyde had become a patron saint for the sailors that frequented Suthwicke and the dockworkers who laboured there (although it was not for another 100 years that she was officially given the role). She was beloved by all who met her, along with a great many who had not, and although Lord Suthwicke had remarried, he never forgot Elizabeth and kept likeness' of her around him often, including on the pommel of his sword and in a locket around his neck.

Suthwicke had a mighty garrison, the third largest in Albionica, eight thousand fighting men stood ready to defend her walls or sail abroad to serve their King and liege Lord. The city itself was divided into quarters, each of which was responsible for providing something for the city's defence, in case of siege. The craftsmen, for example, were to provide arms and armour to the men who defended the city. The Burghers and merchants and bankers would provide money. The lesser nobles who inhabited the city's "Venerable Quarter" would serve as officers in the city's defence. The sailors and labourers which resided in the Harbour Quarter and the Poor Quarter would supply the bodies necessary to hold the entire wall. In the space of twelve hours, twenty thousand men could be called to arms, armed, commanded and paid. This was only possible with the cooperation between the aristocrats and knights, the merchants and business-people and the labourers and peasants which had been brought to the forefront throughout King Edwin V's reign.

The city had no idea what awaited it, first the messengers would come bearing word of the great exodus. Then would come the travellers themselves, scholars, soldiers, clergymen and adventurers would come in scores to see what Albionica had to offer. And here was where it was to start, Suthwicke, and then a trek across the hills, dales and far-stretching farmland of the Kingdom of Albionica. The group would end up in Frigatus, the grand capital of the nation, then off to see the Aosines. Truly, it was to be a sight to behold.

[Carpathian Confederation]

Casandaria, Carpathian Confederation
Council of the Princes

---

Silence reigned supreme in the Council of the Princes, a number of reports had entered the chamber and none had been resolved. There was the issue of Fyrae, several miles north of the frontier and the upcoming meeting with the Earl of Garland, the Albionican Lord High Ambassador. Also, worrying news had reached the Confederation from their contacts in Seclen that the Bak’Ee’Ne’Vae Order, from their great fortress of S'Kar'Rho'i, were marshalling for something. The isolationist attitudes of the Aeternaeans prevented any news of the purpose of this muster reaching the Council of Princes, but it was only safe to assume the worst.

If the Bak’Ee’Ne’Vae Order came to Carpathia, they would find a nation ready for war. The Council considered it and, with the tension with Fyrae in mind, decided to raise the Voyari and the Boyari. These two forces comprised the professional fighting men of Carpathia, the Voyari were heavy foot soldiers, similar to the Albionican Housecarls, and many served as skilled crossbowmen. The Boyari too served as heavy footmen, but more often than not they were ahorse, mounted on their hardy, spirited and noble Carpathian Steppe Horses, the Boyari had proved their infinite worth throughout the history of the Confederation. These two elite warriors, although outdated technologically by some other nations of S'Kar, were some of the bravest men on the continent and would face suicidal odds before betraying their homeland. They numbered 17,000 and were spread throughout the Confederation, with a relatively even number in each of the Princedoms. In their tall helmets and lamellar or mail armour, bearing thick kite shields and long arming swords, the Carpathian warriors were fearsome and gallant men and, though they lacked the great numbers of the Zoan armies and the chivalry and organisation of the Albionican yeomen, they made up for it with spirit, cunning and undying loyalty to the Confederation that many of the forebears had died to create.

Royal Fortress of Casandaria

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The Fortress at Casandaria, the capital of the Confederation and the seat of Prince Alexander Casandri, set an imposing figure over the steppes, its monolithic bastions and plain, light stone walls towering above the landscape. The stout Voyari, with their strong Steppewood spears and powerful crossbows, manned the battlements. They stared out into the bare landscape, carpeted in the distance with farmland, Carpathia being more temperate than most regular steppes one was like to find, the ground was just fertile enough for the cultivation of crops and the grazing of hardy cattle. Still, the Princedom of Casandaria was like a desert in comparison to the dense farmland of the southern Princedoms. The open steppes, occasional forests and ocean to the west meant that the men of Casandaria relied of berries, nuts, fish and wild game to supplement their diet by non-agricultural means. Thus, a diet considered lordly by the rich agrarian nations of the west was considered the norm to the hardy peasants and high nobles alike in the realm of the Falcon Prince.

This was the sight that would present itself to the Bak’Ee’Ne’Vae caravan when they reached the strange shores of Carpathia on the final stretch of their journey. Truly, it was to be a surprise.

[Mokranshi]

Pada, Northwest Mokranshi
Beetle Fields

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Northwest Mokranshi is a sparsely inhabited land. Even by the standards of the rest of the country, with much territory being claimed by few individuals, the settlements of these borderlands are few and far between. Unlike the rest of Mokranshi, there are no deep-rooted races here. The few jarbugor clans that exist out here only claimed their parcels roughly a century and a half ago, at the most. Foremost among them is Clan Pada. Driven westward by conflicts with zerdagor packs, the ancestors of Clan Pada established a den at the edge of the Weeping Desert, on the Mokrani-Zoan border. Since then, they have grown to become by far the largest clan in this area. One in four jarbugors here is a member of the esteemed clan, and their dens form an elaborate underground network housing thirty thousand denizens, putting even the great southron ports to shame. Their territory stretches across several miles of desert and steppe. If any travelers come south from Zoan Province, doubtless they will run across Clan Pada.

It's rare for a jarbugor clan to have so many members and hold such a large swath of land, especially in these parts of Mokranshi. However, their founder, the esteemed Ashi, was a wise denmother who knew how to make the most out of what she was given. The steppe lands to the south became fertile gathering grounds, where many shoots of grass were collected. The many unoccupied caves and holes were inhabited at first opportunity, and a complex underground highway was built between them. But the greatest achievement of Ashi Pada was the construction of the Beetle Field, a massive undertaking by the clan to herd and farm the beetles that lived in the Weeping Desert. Of all her works, this was the one that spurred Clan Pada's development the most. The stable and rich supply of beetles allowed the jarbugors to settle down and form a proud society.

It's difficult for travelers entering Mokranshi to ignore the beetles. Large mounds as tall as a man (an impressive architectural feat, considering the jarbugors barely grow above a man's ankle) house hundreds of thousands of beetles, and are watched over by farmers day in and day out. On a schedule, of course. Beetles swarm the air, but rarely seem to travel far from the dusty fields. They are kept fed by the shoots of grass brought from the south steppe. Somehow, they have been tamed and bred by Clan Pada not to leave their lands, allowing the clan to stay right where it is. Being so close to the Zoan border, Clan Pada is wary of outsiders. Scouts patrol the edges of their territory, and unusual individuals are typically reported to den-watchers. In the case of especially large groups, however, the reports typically go to the denmother herself, Akhi. In most cases, the individuals are traders headed southbound. Such folk are sometimes welcome to the den to buy and sell with Clan Pada before being directed further south. This is often awkward, as a human head can barely squeeze into a den entrance. For such matters, the clan merchants and craftsmen bring their ware outside. One has not truly lived until they've had a jarbugor hand them a clay pot the size of their thumb. Still, they're rarely turned down both because such oddities are considered noteworthy souvenirs and because many humans seem to find the jarbugors too endearing to deny.

The Tuumanzan, Central Mokranshi
Khoifang mountain pass

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For those seeking to leave Pada lands and head south, the Khoifang mountain range stands next to be crossed. Like many of the mountain ranges that dot Mokranshi, it's a cold and unforgiving place, but to simply walk around it could potentially add weeks to one's journey. Fortunately, there is a pass through the mountains that connects to the greater Tuumanzan. These mountains, also much like the others, form the homes of the ibegors. An offshoot of the goat-like kaprogors, the ibegors are distinguished by their long, curved horns and short, stringy beards. Unlike the other beastmen races, the ibegors do not live in one continguous territory. Instead, they live wherever mountains and highlands can be found, living in isolated villages and supporting themselves through terrace farming. Thanks to their roles as mountain guides and the principal cultivators of flax, these disparate people form a crucial role in the Mokrani social fabric, even if they lack the same level of influence as the other beastmen. Travelers traversing the mountains often seek their guidance as sherpas, especially if they are outsiders.

Open territory

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Mokranshi is a very large nation with a smaller population than the typical country that inhabits S'Kar. What's more, many of the herds that roam Central Mokranshi are nomads, uninclined to stay in one place for long. This, unsurprisingly, lends itself to a lot of open land, with no apparent settlements to be seen for miles at a time. Most of the larger villages and cities lay on the coast, far from the heartlands. And yet, these places which depend on a regular influx of goods and people continue to exist, thanks both to the ocean and to the Tuumanzan.

The Tuumanzan, or the Hoofroad, is one of the great marvels of Mokranshi. It is a vast network of roads and passages connecting the many villages, tribes, and herds of this cold land. No single highway is this, but a complex interconnected system that links even the most isolated peaks to the well-trod central roads. The Hoofroad is like no road found in the human kingdoms. It's not paved nor officially marked, and yet it's unmistakable even to outsiders. Forged by the migrations of the beastmen over thousands of years, the endless travels of countless hooves flattened the ground beneath their feet, carving the Tuumanzan. Even today, most wanderers will find traveling herds along the road. Here in Central Mokranshi, the most common travelers to be seen are takingor muskox herders and pilgrims headed to Oincheltgazar. To those traveling south, the latter are ubiquitous, and steadily grow in number as Revelation Grove draws closer. As for the former, they are hard to ignore. The muskox cultivated by the takingor tribes are notoriously smelly, but are herded all the same for their nutritious milk. Still, their caretakers have taken to wearing cloth headscarves that cover their nostrils, mitigating the stench somewhat. For all others however, it's best to keep a safe distance from the herds, lest the retching begin.

Oincheltgazar, Central Mokranshi
North Camp

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Oincheltgazar, better known as Revelation Grove to those unversed in Beasttongue, was a hive of activity, as so often was the case. This city of tents was perpetually busy nearly every day of the year, serving the many throngs of pilgrims who had come from across Mokranshi to beseech the name of Khukankhan, god of the Winterborn. As the oral traditions of the beastmen have been told, this was the place where the First One, a mastogor whose name is lost to time, received the Great Revelation of Khutankhan over two-thousand years ago, and brought his gift upon the world. To the pious, an opportunity to visit this most sacred place could not be overlooked. This city is so sacred, that non-Winterborn are forbidden to step into the Central Camp, which surrounds the clearing where the First One them-self stood.

Of course, to call this place a 'city' would be a bit inaccurate. There is no permanent settlement here, and no permanent residents aside from the cadre of shamans who meditate at the clearing nearly all hours of the day. Despite the intense cold that strengthens the Winterborn and keeps all but the most well-equipped and persistent outsiders out, no sane man nor beast would choose to live here. Revelation Grove is located in the most inhospitable part of the Heartlands, where an extremely thick shield of permafrost keeps any plants from growing. No hunters can find their game, no herders can sustain their flock, and no farmers can plant their fields. The only exception to this is the forest that gives Revelation Grove its name, and even it has a caveat. The trees here are petrified and functionally dead, their leaves and trunks frozen and unbreakable. Surrounded by several miles of barren wastes, this petrified grove seems almost ethereal and otherworldly. Perhaps it is why the beastmen view the site as so holy; a forest frozen in time must be a sign of divine work.

That being said, despite not being a true settlement, the constant coming and going of pilgrims keeps Revelation Grove constantly busy. Several large camps dot the landscape, each bustling with all manner of beastfolk. Tiny jarbugors scurry underfoot, hulking mastogors march across the wastes, and chotgors choke the sky with their caws. The sheer volume of pilgrims and travelers has also given rise to a local caravansary. This is one of the few places in Mokranshi where every kind of beastman can be found, and there are few better places to trade. While most come to buy and sell essentials that the pilgrims may use for the trip home, a few more exotic goods can be found. Especially for the southern beastmen like the mastogors and elasmogors, this was practically the only place to find foreign goods from the lands beyond the Weeping Desert. While the North Camp is predominantly filled with jarbugors and zerdagors, the occasional western kaprogor or southron giant can be seen. This often makes for the unusual sight of an ibegor trading with a zerdagor who only stands up to his knee, or a huge elasmogor conversing with a jarbugor the size of his fist. For outsiders, this would likely be the only place to find a fellow human. Those traveling by land rarely venture beyond the North Camp, since they can often find what they're looking for here.

The North Camp is not lost for interesting sights, however. At the center of the camp, towering over the trade tents is the Shrine of Supplication. For those ignorant in the ways of the Cult, this would appear to be an odd shrine. A large statue of a bipedal Khutankhan overlooks the North Camp, like a father unto his children. Surrounding it are many idols, images, and effigies of various other faiths. Most of them are Sabatran, of the old pantheon of the jarbugors and zerdagors before they were conquered and converted. Most of the rest belong to the ancient faiths of the beastmen, dedicated to deities whose names are long since forgotten. There even seems to be one or two idols of human make, possibly taken in a raid. Surprisingly, all of them are as well maintained as the central statue, and they are all oriented facing Khutankhan. At the outskirts of the camp, prayers take place. Since Revelation has only shrines but no temples, devotees pray in the open. Packs of zerdagors can be seen howling their invocations to the sky while elegently clad priests gesticulate wildly. The jarbugor clans prayed a little more subtly, with clan members standing on a large drum and jumping in unison and a priest singing in their sharp, high-pitched language. Between the prayers and the clamor of trade, the North Camp was a loud place indeed.

In recent weeks, new developments had reached the North Camp, and rumors of a large band of humans from the east were on their way to the grove, if visiting denmothers were to be believed. The occasional desert merchant was expected with the ibegor sherpas who guided outsiders south, but a group that large? And none of them merchants? An unusual sight, indeed, if it was true.

West Camp

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Since the central clearing is forbidden to outsiders, travelers must meander around the petrified woods to make it southward. Due to the forest's shape, it's quicker and more convenient to head to the West Camp instead of the East Camp. This camp is mainly dominated by elder beastmen, and as such is the largest of the camps due to the sheer number of inhabitants that it must contain. An assortment of bovigors, kaprogors, chirugors, and margugors wander the grounds. Some are moving supplies about, others are immersed in prayer, a number are trekking towards the central clearing, and even a precious few are busy practicing magic. The ability to wield 'the gift', as the Mokrani call it, is considered a great blessing among the tribes. It may be one of the few consistent cultural traits among them. And here in the West Camp lives one of the few places in Mokranshi to be taught how to wield it. Most tribes have at least one mage (rarely any more than that), but to possess the gift is one thing. To know how to properly use it is another. Thankfully, some of the elder shamans who live in Revelation Grove are gifted mages (it's no secret that while technically anyone can become a shaman, the title is disproportionately bestowed upon mages), and they often come to the camp to teach the young neophytes when they are not meditating. Even now, an aged margugor with a massive, braided beard is watching intently as a small group of beastman children practice their breathing, forms, and incantations, occasionally barking an order when one of them apparently messes up. Not far away, a bovigor shaman is instructing a somewhat older chirugor child before a crowd. The kid whispers some sort of incantation, moves his cloven hands with steady purpose, and creates a blast of chilling wind around him, to the braying felicitations of the crowd and an approving nod from his instructor. While it seems that the beastman mages are unusually skilled in their ability to wield spells even from a young age, an observer might notice that they only seem to be able to utilize cryomancy. No other form of magic is observed, even from the powerful elder shamans.

South Camp

---

For outsiders seeking to head to the coast, the South Camp would be the last stop before leaving Revelation Grove. This was a very different place from the North Camp. It was far larger, owing to the huge tents that dotted the grounds. Such accommodations were necessary for the pilgrims who camped here, mainly being of mastogor, rhinogor, and elasmogor stock. Here, the average tent was the size of a cottage, and the walkways could accommodate three carriages side by side. The ground constantly shook with the steps of giants, and folks had to take special care not to accidentally be reduced to a bloody pulp.

Despite the size and scale of the South Camp, it was much quieter than the North Camp. This place was a shrine to the deceased. While not every beastman practiced burial, those who did took great care to it. Many believed their ancestors would be closer to Khutankhan if buried at Revelation Grove, so the South Camp was constantly choked by mourners from across the southern lands. At least once a day, one may observe a funerary procession as giants carried their fallen to their final resting place. Mastogors especially revered their dead, and their funerals could last for an entire day as herd members took turns to say their goodbyes. A very solemn silence hung over the camp at all times, save for the weeping of pilgrims. Most outsiders chose not to stay long here, as there were no traders here, and one could only bear the grim wails for so long.

The Tuumanzan, South Mokranshi
Mammoth steppe

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As the Hoofroad meanders its way south from Oincheltgazar, the frigid permafrost gives way to rolling hills of mammoth steppe. Here, the land is cold and coated by tundra. Beyond the grass, there is no sign of flora to be seen for miles in most directions. While the air here is as cold as ever, those who take offense to the climate may find these grasslands more agreeable than the frozen heart of Revelation Grove. Like the tent city of before, this place seems lost in time, as if it were left behind by the Frozen Era. These lands are like nowhere else in S'Kar, and maybe the world. Perhaps this is why its inhabitants cannot be found anywhere else on the continent. This particular stretch of the Hoofroad passes through rhinogor lands. Tough, brutish, and wooly, these beasts have the least love for outsiders out of all the beastmen. This is not helped by their culture of violence and bitterness. Many rhinogors are resentful of the progress that has gripped the more populous lands of Mokranshi, for it has seemingly not reached the mammoth steppe that the primordial beastmen call home. While the elasmogors and mastogors that live farther east have given little regard to such events by virtue of isolation, rhinogors live close enough to see the growing cities of the coast, and yet so few of them have been able to join in the prosperity.

As one makes their way towards the conifer forests of the southern coast, distinctive markers litter the steppe, warning travelers whose land they step on. Rhinogors jealousy guard their territories, and scarcely brook even trespassers of their own kind, let alone outsiders. On the horizon, those with keen eyes can spot bulls patrolling their lands, keeping a close eye on travelers passing through. Closer to the Hoofroad,rock signs can often be found proclaiming who's territory is whose. However, in recent years, other signs have been put up, bearing more unusual messages.

A few days' journey from Revelation Grove, the following words can be found carved into a rhinogor's stone: Idiots! You've been cuckooed by false futures! Khutankhan only knows what that person meant.

Ancestor Rock

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Farther out on the road, far from any camps or permanent settlements, a most peculiar and wondrous monument can be found. Towering over the steppe is a great rock, jutting out from the ground. Surrounding it are discarded pickaxes and the bones of long dead beastmen. Curiously, none of the bones seem to belong to any living creature, not even the ancient mastogors, who refer to the stone as Ancestor Rock. As one gets closer to the rock, there seem to be even more anomalies. For one, the rock seems unbreakable. Despite its potential as a valuable source of stone for building, no part of the monument is even chipped. Broken pickaxes nearby are a testament to its strength. And yet, the rock is of a quality that should be breakable. Nothing about it seems to suggest that it's reinforced by the minerals of the earth. Some wanderers claim that the rock is enchanted, bound by forgotten magics that keep it standing.

Even more curiously, that is not the only unusual quality of the stone. Coating Ancestor Rock are many images, painted onto it with dyes that are unusually well preserved despite their exposure to the elements. The images seem to be of other beastmen, dozens of different kinds, more than even exist to day. And yet, something is off about these beastmen. That being that they don't actually resemble beastmen. At least, none that can be found. A few look like modern derivative forms, but somewhat different. They're larger, bulkier, and drawn with an almost mystical air to them. It's entirely unknown by locals and wanderers alike what the significance of the rock or its images are, save for the mastogors, who hold Ancestor Rock with reverence. However, if they do know something about this monument, none have divulged it, not even to other beastmen. All that lays between here and the southern coast is the Hoofroad.

Farther south, at a fork in the road to Baatakron, the following words can be found carved into a rhinogor's stone: Long ago, the humans killed your fathers with spear and arrow, now you let them into your homes.

Baatakron, South Mokranshi
Kalimgor Harbor

---

The air was chilly and filled with the smell of salt and fish. Across the harbor, catamarans were coming in and out with nets full of the ocean's bounty. Despite the cold weather, the town of Baatakron was quite pleasant. It was located on the edge of both bovigor and rhinogor lands, and so was more cosmopolitan than most other settlements on Mokranshi's expansive coast. While other ports were wealthier, larger, or more well defended, Baatakron had the advantage of welding two lands together, with all the opportunity that entailed. Bovigors, urugors, and rhinogors all came to buy and sell, and the locals who lived here were more than happy to reap what these merchants came to offer. Unlike many of the interior settlements, Baatakron had come to adopt the use of shards, a proposed means of trading given by the famed plutocrat, Pasekur. While not every beastman who visited was receptive to this bizarre practice, traveling outsiders took to the currency quite well, and as a result, Baatakron had turned into a hub for those seeking to sail to Lokhaven and beyond.

Of course, there was another facet of like here that made Baatakron appealing even to other beastmen. Much of the town's wealth came from fishing, and while many such places existed on the coast, Baatakron had a local secret that made them tower over other fishing villages. Pods of orcas are common in Chillwater Bay, and the locals, through closely guarded secrets, had learned to cooperate with these beasts to obtain the greatest quantities of fish. Somehow, the fisherfolk here had coached the orcas into herded schools of fish into their nets, while the beasts feasted upon stragglers. This made the town very successful indeed, and their bond with the kalimgors (as the locals call them) is such a valued part of their life that the animals are revered as messengers of Khutankhan, and even treated as intelligent. Images of them can be seen carved into the shrine at the local temple, and it's forbidden by local law to harm the creatures. Pods of them can often be seen swimming alongside boats leaving and entering port. To the locals, a pod following your boat as it departs is a sign of a safe voyage to come. Oh, what a voyage this particular town had yet to witness.

[Bakvae]

Fy'O'Tae'S
Three hours before departure

Lady Dea'Hae'I vi Rho'Uu'Ys, Holy Diplomat of the Eternal Throne, and Holy Diplomat of the Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae Order walked through the battlements that surrounded the capitol proper for what she felt might actually be the last time, given the odyssey that she had just been assigned to lead through the literal entirety of the children’s playground. It would be an interesting trip though, no doubt about that and it would be one that she would carry out with her usual pride simply because the throne called upon her to undertake the task.
So deep within the mists of thought and memory was the diplomat that she caught her foot on a slight bump in the path and almost fell into an unceremonious heap, had it not been for her perpetual companion catching her wrist at the last second. “you should really watch where you’re going and not what you’re thinking about, little sis.” said Chu’Ne’Ae as she hauled the younger woman back upright, “This sightseeing tour is nothing that we haven’t done in parts before.” Lady Dea’Hae’I fixed her clothes as she let out a mumbled “yeah, I guess you’re right” before standing up straight and starting straight for the rendezvous “well, in that case I don’t think that we should make them wait any longer on our account.” To which the older woman smiled and followed, happy to see her perpetual partner’s determination and excitement that had been waning over the past week in the capitol flare back to life in an instant.

Five days before departure

Gu’Ji’Liu kneeled with five others before a masked man who’s only real identifier being the purple and white cloak that seemed to be a cracked tapestry with the crimson embroidery spiderwebbing its way across its surface glinting golden in the light of the relatively open western wing of the I'Pae'Tae'Rho Ji'Mae'Ne Ae'Tae'ii “rise, all of you. No need to be so formal outside of the public eye and out in this new and untamed land we are all brothers and sisters.” The young masked man said as the others rose as his request.

“I’m sure that you all have heard about the interesting event that we are to play host to in less than a week. And I’m sure that you all know that you have been chosen to be a part of this expedition, albeit not in the way that you probably think that you would have.” He shifted slightly to address the four standing to his left “You will have arguably the most important task of the expedition, with your teams being ahead of the main group, you will inform the host nations that we are coming and make sure that the reception party won’t be the points of arrows” him and one of the four chuckled at the rather dark joke, “And once you make contact with the natives of the lands we are to meet, you will send a messenger back here with the details which we will then send a messenger to the party which will then travel the remaining time to where you made contact with the governing bodies of these young nations.” The four men nodded as he turned to the other two “you two, my sisters and chief diplomatic team, will be leading this little expedition culminating in a summit being held in Deshkhet. Although only you two along with 12 others will be actually going to the diplomatic meeting, with the others turning and heading back here a week or so before you make it.” Receiving a bow in response he addressed them all, “the whole group will leave in five days from now, so the advanced party will have two days to be prepared to leave, and don’t forget to write home regularly for us.” Before handing them all their letters and giving them an additional letter bearing the order crest as well as the route map.

Five minutes before departure

Lady Dea’Hae’I finally stepped out of the battlements and stopped for a second to take in the small crowd that was to be their party for the next year or so and was surprised at the amount of different professions that were there. But the moment passed, and she made her way to the head of the group, passing about a dozen carts on her way to the head of the group before turning to everyone else and saying “Okay everyone I’ll be the leader for this expedition, you can call me Lady Dea’Hae’I for simplicity’s sake. Nevertheless, let’s get this party started. No doubt there will be people already waiting for us, so let’s pack up and head out.” After which everyone checked their carts and the caravan rolled out of the city for the northern horizon.

[The United Kingdoms of Ferelden]

The United Kingdoms Of Ferelden

City of creation

---

To the north elevated by the hills was a city withed mark the sky with a plume of smoke the sounds of hammers and pickaxes. A town made almost like the wall that ran along the edge of the kingdom itself, supported by bars of steel. The place seemed to flow with a gruffness that came from or made was because of its people, for those that worked the forge tend not to be the smaller of the people of Fereledn. The mines flowed in and out of the hills that surround the village cart moving most hours of the day as the need for good iron never grew old, and the veins for gray iron were always tapped after all the entire Warden’s organization needed it for the Blood. The tracks ran deeper into the surrounding hill a crisscrossing network to carts and worker that ran under the earth but never under the cities.

The central city itself sat in a sort of valley in the hills, which was how the first Lord Crucilar designed it to be sat surrounded by the lands that made them and the mines that defined them. The earth what he gave then the material to create what they need and so they would lie in its embrace. However even as lay it needed to be able to be defended from attack, walls were built wall almost as thick and as tall as the wall the ran the length of the kingdom. He was not foolish to think that the city of creation would be able to stand on its own even if it was the production center of the kingdom. So three smaller towns were created to assist the refinement, the riches of the earth were to be processed to crucible where the fires of a refinery were said never to burn out. In the Northeast were those that tested every bar of iron, every rod of steel and rivet of copper, was examined and marked with the hammer and gear. To the west where the finished but the final touches no most of the exports from the kingdom, tapestries created on the most exquisite silk the image of battles recreated stitch by stitch almost as if it was the painting.

Any roads that lead into the city all point to the City of Creation, the buildings created of stone and hardwood, but as you moved closer to the heart of the city, the forest disappeared until it was just a kingdom of metal and stone. At its center was the heart of creation and anvil made from the purest vein of gray Iron that was found in the protected lands and the first that was ever mined by the Lord Crucilar himself. Every piece of Gray blood Iron was forged on that anvil yet it was no chipped, and there was no rust on its surface, seven bolts one reach side running through the anvil anchoring it to stone.


The Order

---

To the south, the forest seemed to be untouched by the hands of anyone it was the opposite of the City of Creation where they were plumes of smoke and the sounds of hammer and steel. There was nothing but the music of birds flying above and the movement of wild games in the undergrowth, the path leading into the forest stopped right at its edge of the fields a definite stop. It seemed as though there had never been in the road leading deeper into the grove, but there was a symbol that was carved into the trunk of each tree facing out to the rest of the kingdom. It was small four-pointed leaf nothing too grand nothing too fancy, but it was there on each of the trunks in random places some nears the top of the canopy. A test for each of The Orders ranks it was created by the first of those that created the rules of how they were to act and how they were to be seen. The mark of the Order had to be placed without the trainee being seen by none of the villager that was working the field or by any of the Wardens that ran past the forest. If not then they are not able to move without being seen then they have not reached the ideals of the word and must start their training from the beginning.

The city itself was grown from the branches of the tree were encouraged to develop in a specific direction creating natural pathways that could be used to move throughout the forest. As it was written on “Only fools, use the paths” so the moved and worked above. If there was any piece of information that passed through the city there was a record it in the hall of the Order; tomes were always being rewritten for the information not to be lost, codes were cracked and then information recoded as needed. Where the city of the creation of made of mostly metal and stone there was not a rock to be found above the tree line, it would have put too much stress on the trees themselves an cause the breaches to break after too much time. So they improvised grafting the ironwood trees onto the limbs that they were going to use to support the weight of the Order. But Ironwood alone was not enough, so the Order reached out to the king at the time, and the king reached to the City of Creation, and they created rods of bronze and steel to reinforce the city they created in those trees. With the help of the rod from the King, they were able to control the direction where the branches grew, so they intertwined with the metal support. Using crystals from deep in the mines to add a level of beauty to the buildings as they were stronger than glass when used and cut correctly.

While the City of Creation pride itself on its walls and stone the Order had no path to enter for the tree always seemed to be moving landmarks appeared both in front and behind those that laid them. They did not make themselves to be easily found for us you could get there then you belonged there. For the Order was a city in the trees, hidden by the trees illumined by the sun and colored by crystals from the earth.

The Grove

A few miles away from the Order was the grove the oldest place that was fairly untouched in the forest. It was one of the more sacred areas to those in the order for it was the place that held the oldest tree in the kingdom a single white tree that seemed to be woven of more silver and moonlight that at somehow been captured and planted in the earth. It was a tree that flowered only once every few decades but when it did it was a sight worth the wait. Great enough that the order did something they would have never done on any other circumstance. They invited the most of the kingdom to join them in the trees; this was a reminder to those in the order for it was done when the tree bloomed the first time. Then it was what made the Order reach out to the first King of Ferelden the sight of Arbe de Clare de la Lune as it reflected the light of the waters that surrounded it in its groove a second moon to shine up to the one in the sky. There are trails that are told of what the first of the Order saw in those waters that night, a vision, a dream no one quite remembers but it was enough to make them leave their forest and ally themselves with King Duncan the Frist. It was a reminder to all of the order that they had sworn their service to watch Ferelden even in the darkest nights.

It is then that the water is collected by the order one flask of the substance empowered by the tree and used in the creation of ink for the order. There is only every one vial of the ink created until the tree blooms again then it is replaced, used only for the Ininterrompu and those records and keep in the most secure vault in the entire order. Protected by wards of magic to ensure the parchment would be kept for as long as the kingdom of Ferelden existed. Only one copy of what was in that vault was ever made and sent to Weisshaupt for there to be a record for the kind to be able to see.


Vigil’s keep

---

That forest grew not just around the Order but extended to the west of the kingdom. The only real path through the unyielding trunks was one that leads to Vigil’s Keep for it was the most western city in the united empire. It was not a path that was truly paved with the stone way like the city of creation or the Capital it was more worn into the dirt by the use of feet and the wheel of carts over the ages. Even if there seemed to be no real man-made efforts to modernize the walkway it seemed that it still up kept roots that might have tried to snake their way across the way were cut away to make sure that nothing could get in the way of any type of travel. Even the branches were removed along with the pat so that nothing might fall down and cause a person a delay in travel or that a person might get injured. It was also that there was nothing that might cause an injury as a recruit was trying to complete the morning run. A two-mile event that happened every morning for new recruits in order to bring them up to a level of physical ability that was required to make sure that each warden would be able to handle their own in an active war. But the catch was that you couldn’t just complete that run every member of your division had to be able to complete the run as well. If they can’t well then there was no point for the group to move along. Either they would succeed together or they would fail alone. The path ran along a few villages until they made their way through the gates of the Keep.

Vigil’s keep was built for one purpose and only one purpose to keep a constant watch towards the kingdoms that lay west of the walls of the empire. And that purpose was reflected in the building of the Keep that was still a city. Every building was made to ensure that the ones above it had a clear aim, the ones that fell closer to the ground seemed to have pike holds build in and spear slots worked into the walls. Those that worked in the area from merchants to those keeping the grounds clean all seemed to either have a weapon within arms reach or did their work in a pair of gambeson just in case. It was also where the Constable of the Grey made most of the day to day military decisions when the Warden-commander was at Weisshaupt. No matter what happened, no matter what came from the lands of the setting sun. The Wardens of the Grey were always keeping the everlasting Vigil.

Weisshaupt

---

While the other cities the from the kingdom of Ferelden Weisshaupt was both the main seating of power for all those that could direct the flow of the Kingdom but it was also the home of the King Logan of Ferelden. It was the city where the accord was stuck between those that came before and was signed by those that were in place now. It overlooked the patchwork of fields that lie beyond the reaches of the trees, most of the eastern side of the kingdom was covered in fields. A mix match pattern that worked its way right to the edge of its eastern border breaking a few areas to allow Caelumhya the tear of the sky to run through the lands itself. From the north to where it needed to be it was one of the few modes of transport that was not land based for the kingdom. Sending raw grain and wheat up to the capitol, it was said to be one of the lasting marks f of the country. So much so that when Weisshaupt was built into the city that it was now, a city build as if it was trying to be a testament to the growth of a kingdom. They made sure that one must cross The Caelumhya before they were allowed into the capital from either the east or the west passage into the capital came from the anyone could walk the paved streets of Weisshaupt they had to walk in the sorrow of the heavens and move as she wished them to do.

The city was a combination of everything that seemed to unite the races of Freleden; the first level was mostly dedicated to the trade and livelihood that keep the kingdom running. Items from the City of Creation were moved throughout the level; small shops worked into family homes. Well-worn stone walks ways and buildings that somehow managed to remain pretty a combination of the Keep’s war sense and the city of Creation desire to make wonders. However, Weisshaupt was more than just one level it was three it was the City of Remembrance, for as they walked the path to what lay on the second rise was the image.

Craved into the stone the one vein of white marble that was found in the Kingdom on the side of the curving path was the image of a woman short in size but with arms that seemed to have been forged in work. Her hair was tired in a back in a series of braids, but even then it seemed almost to be as long as her. Apron covering her front with gloves think as gauntlets, but a smile was on her face, of un a bashful glee as he took joy in every second of life and would until her life came to an end. Yet even as the walkway curved even more her happiness seemed to fall under the shadow of wings bigger than the person they were attached to, a woman of slider form, she appeared graceful as if the craver was depicting a dancer in the middle of a spin. Her hair cut short and arms outstretched yet even as she moved she watched from a point higher. The walkway moved along to an elf that was somehow both in the shadow of that woman even when he was higher on the path and be illumined by the lack of shadow that covered him. His quill in his pocket and book under his arm as he stood there a looking out not at those that were in the craving with him but out over the walls even the trees that rested on the borders of the kingdom. Final, the last curve of the path, came upon a simple man in a dull coat that was not adorned, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword as he walked towards the end of the path. Not looking at those that were in the craving with him but to the Cimitero.

A guest home for all diplomats and important guess that were visiting from noble lands, an inn was built second to only the highest point on Weisshaupt. It was built with a mixture of the trees that had natural fell in the forest and stones from the deepest mines that ran from the City of Creation. A place that tried to offer as much comfort as possible to those that were visiting it was a place which had one purpose comfort. But there was still one more layer to Weisshaupt and one more curved path to walk around; there was no craving to walk with them on this piece just a black stretch of wall that seemed to go through high maintenance to remain as a blank stretch of wall. To the seat of power in the Kingdom of Ferelden a castle of grey stone it was built to be strong, it was built to last. There was beauty in its function it wasn’t like the rest of Weisshaupt which was created to be beauty made into function, it was function made into beauty. The tile work that laid on the ground shine no matter where they turned, and its walls were decorated with cloaks; some seemed like new while others had gashes and holes one seemed to have even been burned.

The throne room was more extensive than it had any reason to be because of what they had made to fit in that room one other craving but not on while marble a slab of marble but in the way the light hit. The way that the stoneworker had touched the material, it was if they were lovers and this was the fruit of that love. The character had not changed, but the scene as they were not just etched on the surface, so they were seated around a table. The shorter woman with her ever-grinning face her apron now a dress and her braid woven with flowers but in her hand held a smith’s hammer. Her skin was dark from the ash of a forge her hair seemed to carry with it all the colors of fire and her eyes the blue of the hottest flame. To her left her dragonic counterpart in a half plate twin swords at her sides the scales running along her arms caught the colors of the rainbow hands placed on her helm that was resting on the table. A band running across where he left eye would have been a replacement stitched on cloth the same color of her scales. Opposite to her was that same elf his book had grown in some pages, and his quills seem to have gotten finer, but in the sleeve of his shirt, you could see the barest tip of something that shown silver. And there was that man once again in his same coat his expression was warm as he looked at those at the table that other members were grinning or thinking or writing this was watching them his eyes kind. His sword was at his side, but his hair had been brushed back, and a crown lay on his head. Three interweaving bands of gold, silver, and iron, The crown of the United Kingdoms of Fereldan.

It was not a craving it was a craving brought to life for as the light hit the marble the paint seemed to breathe, and the image livesd for those seconds. That image was what lay at the core of Ferelden and its people.

[Zoan Providence]

Zoan Providence


Republic House:
A thumb carefully caressed the parchment as its content was scrutinized. A young man, being the recipient of said information, whose youthfulness mirrored Zoan itself allowed a cool expression to pass over his face. This is good, he thought, though with no clear meaning. For now, his gaze returned to his curious onlookers; those wondering what made the current head of house soften his usually hardened expression, and with anticipation. The room fell silent as the document was passed, light peering in from the windows to illuminate and bounce between the iron statues in each corner of the room, each a homage to the four Great Generals of Zoan. They were complimented by the dull grey of the stony floors; a sizeable, amber, circular table in the centre with eight people seated around it, and a regal air draped the surroundings. Despite the private meeting, the House was a public building where tourists and history buffs alike would wander in through the towering, steel doors at the front when no business was conducted. Though now they were shut tightly, soon to open once the current discussion was adjourned.

Northern Cities:
Cool winds rush over the plains as flocks of sheep, and other such herds roam leisurely near their farmlands. The wild lands themselves were as tamed through harsh years of labour as the beasts that lingered on the outskirts. Caravans lined up to and fro along the dirt roads that carried right into the the far-reached city, splitting off to the sides in checkerboard fashion, the main road leading right to the heart of said northern province. Houses were in a uniform structure, devoid of any supposed wasteful architecture. However, while they lacked in flare, their quality and sturdiness made up for it, and the Interior of stores and public buildings possessed tapestries for viewing, and appreciation of finer art. The town consisted mostly of market, and food places for export into the main capital, the humble shops condensed moreso further in, beyond that being the checkpoint.

Main Capital:
Tall, sturdy walls stood guard along the borders of the Zoan Capital, soldiers stationed to observe and filter those that enter the area. They wore light clothing for the arid climate, with spears upon their backs and simple leather belts, and shoes. The men were rugged, with calloused hands that signified hard labour, but a look of sternness to hint at their diligence. Once inside, the town bustled with people, and regular citizens along stony walkways. The town's layout was circular, houses located along its ring while the wealthy found solice closer to the mid-section; roads webbing between buildings while connecting all to a singular point, the Republic House. Surrounding the heart of the capital were four, three-story conrete structures to represent each noble house, a banner of their respect sigil hung upon one side of their gate, while that of the Zoan republic on the other side. The Public flowed in and out of the Republic building, some appreciating the stony architecture, vibrant and similar to that of a temple. It was made all the more prominent as it served to be the only decorated building amidst the usual wooden, or stony single-storied buildings, and houses. Moving on, one couldn't help but be greeted by various merchants offering wares or goods to passerbys, all until they once again reached the outskirts leading to the Southern Borders.

Southern Border:
South of the prosperous capital of Zoan was clustered with training barracks. Soldiers stationed away from the towns in order to embrace, overcome, and strengthen themselves within the desert. Shops were scarcely setup in order to provide necessities to the armies, but there were none present for leisure. A final checkpoint would be seen before one was allowed to travel beyond Zoan territory, and huts, and camp tents would be seen along its border. Once checked, passerbys would be allowed to continue on at their own discretion, a routine in hope of catching any would-be smugglers or deserters of the Providence.

[The Oracai Templar Order]

Tij'erant, The Territory of the Templars of Our Burning Saviour
Coastal town on the south border

---

When the messenger finally arrived in the Templar's lands, the first structure he set his eyes upon was the walls of the harbour town of Tij'erant. It had stood here long before the Oracai had come to S'Kar, and had endured many skirmishes and sieges amongst the tribes and warlords of the region, before the Templar's golden forces had swept the quarrelling factions away in their crusade.

In the harbour, amongst merchant ships of various design and origin, lay ships of unfamiliar make for the messenger, sleek but massive vessels, in the style of the Old Oracai Empire, as he would be told, bearing red sails. They were part of the fleet of the Templar Order. These ships were obviously very advanced, even more so than those of the impressive naval power of Albionica, built to conquer the far oceans, and obviously, to carry out military campaigns.

The city's walls, built high and functional, had been partially destroyed and recently rebuilt with the dark stone the Oracai had brought from their mountain quarries to the west. Huge statues had been errected at the harbour to Our Saviour's glory, Oracai battle saints keeping stoic watch over the seas to the east. Blood red banners hung from the towers, showing the golden wings of the saviour, and from wooden gallows down at the docks hung the corpses of pirates, dissidents and heretics. Humans were amongst them, many elves, even an Oracai, her once rich gown hanging in tatters.

Many were working in the harbour, loading and unloading merchant ships under the watchful eye of Oracai Sariant brothers, clad in golden scalemail cloaks and carrying halberds. The slaves amongst the workers were recognizable by the gilded chain they wore around their necks - they were mostly wood elves, here, in the east of the Templar's territory, as the forests around Tij'erant had been their land, previously. Other workers were humans or orcs, part of the former confederacy that had willingly submitted to Templar rule.

The Sariants greeted the messenger, and escorted him into the city proper. They were taciturn, stepping in unision in armoured boots, an obviously disciplined force. The faces and beaks of the vulture-like Oracai bore scars and ritual burn marks. They lead the messenger through busy city streets, an amalgamation of various people going on with their daily business. Rich Oracai merchants in their embroidered robes, accompanied by dark elf slaves in purple silks, an orc blacksmith selling trade tools from his workshop, human peddlers trying to do business.

On a large town square, a red robed Oracai priest stood on a pedestral, preaching of Our Saviour's glory, how the City of the Golden Flame had been found in the northern desert, and how the prophecy had been true. Many stopped to listen, whether out of piety or out of fear, but the Sariants carried on, so the messenger did not hear much more of the preacher's words.

They brought him to the city center, where a great building stood, towering over the adjacent townhouses. It was built fully from the dark granite of the west, with arabesque carvings around its pillars, high, jagged towers and a great dome of glass in the center.

This was the Temple of Our Burning Saviour, and unsurprisingly, it was heavily guarded by more Sariant brothers and sisters. If the messenger up until now had assumed that there were only Oracai amongst them, he would now be surprised by a human Sariant accompanying the officer who spoke to his escort's leader before allowing entry.

The floors of the vast entry hall were made from red marble, and at every pillar lining the hall there was a bright torch, illuminating the room with golden light. Numerous statues of saints and other legendary figures from the Holy Books lined the walls as well.
On the ceiling there was a single, vast painting of impressive artistry, depicting an enormous, winged being of blinding light floating above a battlefield - the golden-clad Templars were doing battle with a barbaric force of browns and greens on a desert landscape. Some of the Templars depicted seemed to burst into flames, some taking flight and joining the winged being in the skies as flaming disciples. Their barbaric adversaries were in the process of being slaughtered, those that were facing the blinding light were clutching in pain at their faces, fires blazing out of their eyes.

Of course, the Sariants carried on and entered a guarded door, which opened into a small room, where an elderly Oracai sat at an ornate desk.
The High Master, priest of Our Burning Saviour and protector of the city of Tij'erant, greeted the messenger. He was a truly ancient Oracai, clad in elaborately decorated red robes befitting his station and wearing a blindfold of golden silk. From beneath the blindfold spread burned flesh, so that one could surmise that the Templar had been blinded with hot iron.

Two wood elf servant women entered the room and brought with them golden teacups and teapots sporting arabesque engravings, and, kneeling down on both sides of a low table, began an elaborate ceremony.The servant women served the tea to the High Master and the messenger with multiple signs of deference, and left.

Calmly, the High Master listened to what the messenger had to say, and pondered.
He finally nodded, and gave his blessing. The expedition from Aeternaea would be received in the lands of the Templars of Our Burning Saviour, and they would be escorted on their way until they reached the border in the northern desert. He would send word to the Grand Master, and he and the High Council would decide on what route to take the expedition on. With that, the High Master offered the messenger to stay at the visitor's chambers of the Temple as long as he saw fit. They tasted the tea, and talked.

A most intriguing development, he thought. The Oracai stood to learn just as much as the visitors from the east.

[Bazilvwoold]

The West: Bazilv

The Culture of Bazilv is filled with traders, engineers and farmers. Its capital is Bazilvria, the economic hub of the nation is subjected to send 25% of its earnings to Woold, as Woold helped subsidized the humble beginnings of Bazilvria. Because of this, the people of Bazilv have a strong desire to susceed from the nation. The hatred for the king has grown over the years. Because of this, the people of Bazilv have decided to embrace a great interest in magic and hope to find their way out of the “Union” of Bazilvwoold.

When the adventures arrive in Bazilvria - a very "blue collar" town, the adventures are surprised at the lack of finer things. The culture itself mirrors the opposite of Bazilvwoold's east shores. Because of this, the notion of being extravagant is looked down upon. Higher echelons of this culture are rugged engineers ore traders who specialize in material goods or books. Farmers generally make up the middle class, followed by the labourers who are the lower class. The cultural structure is a bit odd here, while the engineers and traders tend to be free to do what they please, the middle and lower class are co dependent on one another. Much like a feudal lord the farmers divide and give some food they grow to the lower class, because of this, the farmers can pay the labourers much lower wages, should they provide food and shelter. The labourers are free to move where ever they want, but finding the best farmer with a higher employment wage is hard to come by.


The East: Woold

Near the end of their trip, the Adventures return back to Bazilvwoold to explore the east side of the country. When they arrive, they maybe shocked as they may find it hard to believe this is the same country. Woold is a very noble town, their culture has matured and has been set in stone, by the decree of the King. The King allows most folks to do what they want with a few exceptions equipped with harsh punishments.

The Wooldian noble class are very extravagant, they enjoy stadium spectacles of men fighting for their entertainment. They make their money on the backs of traders especially from their investment across the coast. Under the king, the noble class legally own most of the Western capital's most important services of Bazilvria. Those who work for those services get taxed at a 50% rate where all of their goods and/or Bazil(the currency) goes back to the King or the nobles. The simple disdain for the West can simply be seen in their name, as the nobles simply named the West after their currency. Neglecting it to give it a proper name.

Woold holds the capital of the nation, the tiny town of Wooldia which is wear the King and the countries nobles live. Wooldia makes its economic income by taxing its residence and those who use the great river for passage to the Southern Sea. For this, many nations have disliked wooldia’s nobility class as they make their money off of the backs of traders. The King, brooding on his deep hatred of magic, has outlawed any use of it in the province of Woold, a crime which is punishable by death.

[Bakvae]

Northwestern Border-post of Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae

Lady Dea'Hae'I laid back atop the lacquered hardwood roofing of the lead carriage, enjoying the sun's warmth and as well as the gentle breeze that carried the rich, earthy smell of the nearby fields across the road from where she lay. Rest like this was really only possible for her within the countryside of the Holy Order, where she felt a little more at ease and not quite like business was always beating down her door. But alas, the sound of hoof beats nearing spelled the end of her relaxation for a good while as the messenger team from the first preemptive group now somewhere in Seclen slowed beside the carriage.

"So whats the word on our visit to this budding kingdom along our border?" she asked the nearing messenger as she sat up and reigned in her hair, which had previously been left to the breeze. "About what you would expect from an infant nation growing in harsh terrain," he replied as he stopped alongside her. "They didn't try to attack us though, which is smart considering they're still doing that to each other. But they're also kinda busy at the moment with their own affairs to host us, opting to just allow us to pass through their borders to... Ptumeria? Yeah, that's the next point." Lady Dea'Hae'I rolled her shoulders as she went to hop the three short drops to the ground, "Well that's both fortunate and unfortunate news, I guess. Its a shame that we wont get much interaction with the locals on our trip through, but maybe later on we will be able to sit down and have a set of proper introductions between our two nations."

Lady Dea'Hae'I motioned a couple of escorts over, "Get everyone ready for a trip through difficult terrain, we leave in an hour for a trip straight through Seclen to Ptumeria. And tell anyone that's disappointed that we wont be spending the week with the locals learning what we can that negotiations are in process for a return visit at some point." She dismissed them to their duties before looking back to the messenger team, "Is that all you have to report? If so, resupply at the border-post as needed and return to your party." The messenger furrowed his brow slightly, "The only other thing is that shortly after we left to deliver the message to you we saw some signs of smoke on the horizon in the direction of Ptumeria, although we were unable to discern what happened there." Lady Dea'Hae'I nodded as the messenger turned and started riding away, "alright, that seems like it will be fun for us out there." Chu'Ne'Ae, who had been leaning in the shade simply chuckled as she stood up and opened the door for her companion "Well, there's only one way to find out, so lets get moving," and boarded after Lady Dea'Hae'I.

[Bakvae]

A few days later

Border between Seclen and Ptumeria

A rosewood carriage heading a line of other carts and mounted individuals slowed as it came up alongside a team of five mounted individuals sporting the Holy Order crest who all seemed to lean a little heavily on the fronts of their saddles. "Now don’t tell me that they k-" Lady Dea'Hae'I abruptly cut off as the more pressing issue came to her senses. "what the hell is that smell? it’s like someone is trying to burn trash in a rainstorm." The riders all seemed to sigh as Gu'Ji'Liu nodded his head towards the border "That's probably because someone burned that entire nation to the foundation and then took a plow to what was left."

Lady Dea'Hae'I scowled slightly, "Well, that's a true shame. I had hoped to meet with these people, they seemed like they might have been advanced. Albeit as a child imitating their role model after seeing them from afar..." Gu'Ji'Liu nodded solemnly, "Yeah, it’s a sad sight. No less because they had developed what seemed to be nothing less than liquid stone that after time solidifies as strong as any cliff or mountain, and all without a lick of Magecraft either... And I've never personally had the stomach to walk through or look at the remains of a complete genocide and purge." Lady Dea'Hae'I looked slightly green at the implications, "It sure is a terrible loss to the world, but the world will go on. The journey must continue though and so must your team. Head on to the next stop and continue with your mission." Gu'Ji'Liu nodded and motioned to his team as he started off down the road to Ferelden.

Lady Dea'Hae'I slumped back onto the soft and well broken-in leather of her seat, letting the cool leather soothe her stomach as Chu'Ne'Ae moved across the cabin and slid Lady Dea'Hae'I's head onto her lap before starting to run her fingers through the younger woman's hair "Still not used to these brutalizations of the unstable seedlands, are you?" Lady Dea'Hae'I merely let her continue to stroke her hair, "You know that's how it is out here. All blood, fire, and iron. That's how nations are born. Our work is what comes next." Lady Dea'Hae'I looked up at the woman who was as much an older sister to her as she was her bodyguard, "Yeah but it’s still disgusting, all that needless death and destruction..." She slowly pulled herself upright "but I guess the show must go on, and we will as well." She crawled out of the carriage and started back to where the rest of the adventurers were gathering to have dinner as the sun started falling lower in the sky. They looked over to the young woman and her perpetual shadow were approaching from. "Any news of the next hosts that we are set to meet?" One of the architects said as Lady Dea'Hae'I and Chu'Ne'Ae come up to the group. "I think it’s better to save the bad news for after we have eaten and rested, but never the less, we will break camp and leave at first light," She said as she grabbed some food and sat down to munch on some bread. "Because some might not like what sights await us over the next ridge."

[Bakvae]

The United Kingdoms Of Ferelden

City of creation

---

To the north elevated by the hills was a city withed mark the sky with a plume of smoke the sounds of hammers and pickaxes. A town made almost like the wall that ran along the edge of the kingdom itself, supported by bars of steel. The place seemed to flow with a gruffness that came from or made was because of its people, for those that worked the forge tend not to be the smaller of the people of Fereledn. The mines flowed in and out of the hills that surround the village cart moving most hours of the day as the need for good iron never grew old, and the veins for gray iron were always tapped after all the entire Warden’s organization needed it for the Blood. The tracks ran deeper into the surrounding hill a crisscrossing network to carts and worker that ran under the earth but never under the cities.

The central city itself sat in a sort of valley in the hills, which was how the first Lord Crucilar designed it to be sat surrounded by the lands that made them and the mines that defined them. The earth what he gave then the material to create what they need and so they would lie in its embrace. However even as lay it needed to be able to be defended from attack, walls were built wall almost as thick and as tall as the wall the ran the length of the kingdom. He was not foolish to think that the city of creation would be able to stand on its own even if it was the production center of the kingdom. So three smaller towns were created to assist the refinement, the riches of the earth were to be processed to crucible where the fires of a refinery were said never to burn out. In the Northeast were those that tested every bar of iron, every rod of steel and rivet of copper, was examined and marked with the hammer and gear. To the west where the finished but the final touches no most of the exports from the kingdom, tapestries created on the most exquisite silk the image of battles recreated stitch by stitch almost as if it was the painting.

Any roads that lead into the city all point to the City of Creation, the buildings created of stone and hardwood, but as you moved closer to the heart of the city, the forest disappeared until it was just a kingdom of metal and stone. At its center was the heart of creation and anvil made from the purest vein of gray Iron that was found in the protected lands and the first that was ever mined by the Lord Crucilar himself. Every piece of Gray blood Iron was forged on that anvil yet it was no chipped, and there was no rust on its surface, seven bolts one reach side running through the anvil anchoring it to stone.

About a month after entering Ptumeria near the border wall of Ferelden

Lady Dea'Hae'I vi Rho'Uu'Ys was used to traveling a lot. It was kind of a part of her job, after all. But traveling through a ravaged land will wear anyone down after a while, and it was looking about the same for the rest of the travelers on the journey as she walked around during the stoppage at the border to await the response from the advance party. Most seemed to be beginning to become slightly disillusioned with the entire journey, and she couldn't really blame them after having two nations come up with nil for interactions.

She turned and started back to the head of the group because she heard a commotion as the messenger form the advance group arrived. There seemed to be a bit more of a commotion considering the small cheers coming up from the group that had formed around them. She made her way through the group up to the messenger who handed her a missive from King Ligan's court. He smiled, "Seems that these are the first people who actually seem together enough to have us in for a proper cup of tea, haha." She merely nodded as she glanced at its contents. "And I'm assuming that you have the letter of passage mentioned in this missive as well?" The messenger nodded and patted his saddlebag. "good, well I can't see any reason to stay even one more day in this dreary country," she said as she turned to the group "Alright everyone! We finally have our first chance to learn something about the budding young nations of this world and see how they think as well as live." The group let out a cheer and rushed off to break camp.

The convoy was all packed and on its merry way in less than an hour, with everyone in such high spirits that you would think there was a festival where they were heading, with song breaking out among some. In the lead carriage Lady Dea'Hae'I was quietly humming a happy tune as she was staring out the window towards the wall in the near distance. Chu’Ne’Ae simply smiled as she quietly enjoyed the lighter mood in the group as well as the opportunity to hopefully forge new friendships with the young leaders of the new nations. Things continued like this until the convoy neared the border crossing where they slowed to a stop and the first interaction with a foreign people of this trip began.