The Ascent of Man [IC|Closed]

by **Nuxipal** » Sun Dec 16, 2018 8:01 am

The Chosen of Neferkara

The previous year's arcane research came up short. It seemed there would be no immediate method for making undead easier to raise. A new problem was going to be on the horizon, the problem of labor within the chosen. Setnakhte took half of the chosen with him on a recruiting drive. He would visit the nearby city of Serrith to recruit peasants to join the Chosen. While he would prefer scholars, it was unlikely he could pull the upper class away from this city. While he is in the area he sends messenges with caravaneers to the Gurgen to the north around the mountains advertising the need for slave labor by the Chosen in Saladonian lands.

While in Serrith, the members of the chosen there are not openly displaying signs of necromancy or even practicing it in anyway. They had been warned by the citizens of Salli not to do these things while in the city here. Hopefully by the end of their expedition and return to Saladonia, they would have new recruits.

Back in Saladonia, the Undead were returning to the capital after mining clay for Vallenia. Iset, who was commanding them met with Khafra and began discussions as to what the undead would do next. It was decided that they would work in the city creating infrastructure to house a larger population. For the next few years the citizens of Salli would see the skeletal laborers constructing mud-brick homes while the remaining scholars in the city worked to recruit from the Gladium to join with the Chosen. They made the arguement that under the Saladonian Republic, they had little standing in society. With the Chosen they would be able to clear themselves of the dishonor that the Saeling have placed upon them.

by **Kelmet** » Sun Dec 16, 2018 11:54 am

The Kingdom of Lordaeron

Year sixteen of the Reign of King Varian Menethil

Turn 8

Disaster the king thought to himself an absolute disaster "What in the name of the Light itself happened?" In an angry rant aimed at the men and women of the council of lords. "You all swore to me the establishment of a standing army to protect us would not lower our food production and reserves, especially to the point of starvation!" One fo the lords went to speak "I am the first!, the first king of Lordaeron to allow his people to starve! and that my lords is on you. I leave these matters to you because you are the most diligent and experienced in your domain." The Archbishop stepped foreword "You're Grace please, we are all hungry and exhausted mistakes were made absolutely. But we have the problem now and our focus needs to be on how to fix it."

Tho several objectives are completed, starvation overshadows any accomplishment.

Assignments.

by **Toaslandia** » Sun Dec 16, 2018 3:20 pm

Apostolos was watching over the training Chrysí Aspída and smiled. The recruits were now Chrysí Aspída, and any trained soldiers would help. But he was dissatisfied with the failure to clear the trees, so he ordered, "Offer services to traveling merchants. Perhaps we'll gain some wealth from doing so."

by **The GAmeTopians** » Sun Dec 16, 2018 3:29 pm

The Great Zhou Imperium
Year Fifteen of the Second Era

Placeholder, will hopefully be filled with content.

by **Revlona** » Mon Dec 17, 2018 5:29 am

Order of the Bright Flame
City of Lordaeron

WIP

by **Saxony-Brandenburg** » Mon Dec 17, 2018 9:59 am

The Honori People

The Honori men and women brave enough to venture into distant lands weathered six long, hard years in the wild. Their feet had worn callouses all across them on the hard Rock below their feet. Their hair had growl long, knotted, and matted. Their beards, although usually trimmed and clean shaven, were grown long and knotted, the sharp copper tools they used to shave having gone dull long before. Venturing to the far north, it was the highest shock and greatest relief of Shani's life when he came across the smoke of a large campfire on the horizon. Was it perhaps another party of their expodition, who trudged farther ahead of them a few weeks back? Certainly not, they had headed in a completely other direction- out towards the land of great birds and woolen animals, no, these were different people...

The Honori were relatively familiar with the idea of a foreign city state- they had met the Aslanti hundreds of years ago, and the sword of ravenous barbarians years before that. But having only encountered two kinds of foreigners before, the meeting of a third filled them with anxiety and hope. But still, with the daring spirit of true adventurers, they trudged ahead, down the hill, and up the mountains pass, to whoever was waiting on the other side...

They encountered the sounds of goats and distant words as they climbed over the hill. Strange creatures they were, the Honori had seen many an animal, but never these strange white creatures before. They had left the city just as the Honori began taming and herding camels, and vaguely understood the concept. It was a wonder to see it in practice with these small horned... Things. As they passed over the treeline, they saw a small group of men with wooden staves in their hands. Clad in the skins of their goats and huddled together in a cluster, they were a strange sight to the Honori. Although similar in general stature, shape, size- with similar dark hair and brown-red skin, they were considerably lighter in color to the skin of the desert folk, possibly do to the climate they lived in. Much more, they could understand what the men were muttering about, it only faintly. The band of ten Honori scouts approached behind them, and called out from a few meters behind them.

"Hello? Can you understand us?"

The three men looked up in surprise, and were equally met with great confusion themselves at the Honori scouts. Two women, and three men, both looking rather wild and unkempt, with black hair and the brown skin of a southlander, they were certainly a sight. One sheepishly replied to them, baring a nervous smile.

"Yes. Though you speak oddly. Who are you."

The Honori, who took this as an insult, frowned, but spoke up.

"I am Shani, a representative for the Honori. These are my compatriots, who are you?"

"The Honori?... I've only heard of them in the most vague mentions by the elders... Well. Come, we'll take you to the city."

The first thing the Honori scouts noticed when they arrived was the white jewelry worn by the most wealthy of Ita society. They hung from their ears, they dangled around their wrists, around their ankles, around their necks, from their noses. The Honori found this incredibly odd, but appreciated it, and wished to learn of the intricately crafted things the Ita adorned their bodies with. They walked around the streets, and we're met with similar stares they gave at all, who looked down at these "wild men". Between themselves, the Honori had begun to refer to these people as "Persos de Anbenconlis" the people of white cliffs.

The scouts returned to their city with gifts from the foreign peoples, and a message. Given the hospitality of willing friends, they returned to the city clean-shaven, well-fed, and well-provisioned. They brought before the High priestess bands of their white gold, which she took with great greed and wonder. They presented to her a small herd goats, which she found the most amusing. And, they presented her with a message- an invitation for a delegation to go north, and meet with the people of the mountains. Of course, she readily accepted.

The Division of Labor

by **Ralnis** » Mon Dec 17, 2018 10:35 am

Xcotl,City of the Dead

With the added Magi to the rulership of Xcotl, the more scholars that can help bring back smithing and the forges to the city. On top of that, the gold and timber had been gathered and the artisians got to crafting tradegoods to export. It was among the first time that the City of the Dead that they could trade crafting goods instead of foodstuffs. It was here that they desperately need the wealth as the two organizations, the Shambling Legion and the Magnum Opus, were needing lifeforce for their necromancy spells.

The Gate Council's Magi were still very irritated to miffed about the slaughtering of local wildlife and ant-hounds. Magi Temicx had put an importance for the living military have their own training yard an barracks for the conscripts to start being raised. It was for the best as the need for expansion into Shoval as they needed manpower and were in a feud with them.

This also came at the behest of them increasing the pastures for another ant-hound hive in order to have a surplus of lifeforce or food. All of this was a delicate balancing act that the Council had to do in order to keep the public order that's been sliding further down as they try to balance everything. The Magi can only pray for the aid of their ancestors in order to survive the coming tribulations.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Mon Dec 17, 2018 3:13 pm

Living Quarters, Collegia Arcanum, Kharbarinth
19th of Magefire, Year 341 of the Common Era

As Lydia walked through the tall metal barred doorways of the Master's Annex, a slow shiver crawled up her spine. Garbed in the traditional cloth robes of the experienced practitioners of the Art, a finely woven construct of cloth from the east, even the warmth of that raiment seemed cold for a moment. It was almost as if flames were licking up her torso, an ice-blaze that chilled the face even as it burned. Strange to many, but very familiar to the woman of Cadmus, now come to a foreign land to seek her fortune.

Next to the lady-mage, her companion gave an unthinking shudder as well, and she nodded, speaking in slow measured tones.

"There is power here. Power, such as I have not felt before." Next to her Istvan turned his head, eyes slightly wide as if in shock, before he recalled himself from wherever his mind had been cast upon entering the the Collegia.

"The Circle of Arkane comes near, but it is a pure note, whereas this is a symphony. The ley energy that has accumulated... it must be responding to the many castings, no?" It was hard to say, really, if magic fed on ley energies of the areas it was practiced in, or if the ley-lines and power-points of a region intensified where men of arcane talent plied their craft. Either way, Lydia and the son of the Nemtsov could feel that implicit connection to the strength of the earth as if it was a song being given to the air, and it was not unpleasant. Far from unpleasant. So much strength, just waiting to be tapped.

"Is it strange, in essence, coming home?" noted the raven-haired magister as the twain strode along, servants bearing their goods in small hand-carts behind them.

An eloquent shrug, befitting of a man of the frozen north more than a stolid southerner.

"Three hundred years, and a dozen generations since my ancestor married the lady of Cadmus that stole his heart. I have far more blood in my veins of the Republic and her folk, far more, than anything that links me to these Keen-Folk - us Keen-Folk, I suppose I should say." It was a strange thing, to think of that vanished history that was only faintly passed down through the histories. Writing had existed then, but few men had kept records of such simple things as the romance between a learned woman and her rude Hvasskind marine who charmed her with his sturdy ways.

Ultimately though, history or not, they were here. A promise of pay much greater than any the Republic could offer, and arcane secrets that were growing and thriving instead of hidebound where the folk of the Republic were concerned. A strange thing, to think of a place where men only voted once a generation, and oftentimes the leader of the people had been alive for centuries. Lydia had thought to herself that, if she worked hard, a longer life was... most attractive. Time would tell if she could excel here as she had in her former homeland.

by **Nuxipal** » Mon Dec 17, 2018 7:00 pm

The Imperial Republic of Saladonia
Entrance to the Senatorial, Monument Statue Circle
Collaboration Between Holy Tedalonia and Nuxipal

The sun was high within the cloudy sky over Salli. Giving a cool breeze for those outside. The area around the Senatorial was empty, since no gathering of clan leaders would take place today. In the empty entrance was a statue in the center of the first Lord-Imperator in marble. Holding a drakeling in one hand, and a spear in another. Fortunately with the aid of foreign artisans, it could be made.

Tibus sat comfortably in one of the mud-brick benches. Primitive slabs of hardened mud. He stared contemplating the statue, his father the first Lord-Imperator. He knew his time was drawing, near and upon his death, would bring a new Lord-Imperator. It’s been troubling him more and more of late. Soon he would get his own statue, or at least a few oral stories at the very least.

Walking into the Senatorial, a young man wearing Aslani garb. He was flanked by a pair of other priests who carried large wooden cudgels. Guards of some kind that stopped at the entryway. He approached the Lord-Imperator. Khafra, the son of Setnakhte, was in charge of the Chosen while his father was on a mission to the south. He wished to secure his own power should he find that his ascension be contested in the near future.

He approached the Lord-Imperator, who seemed to be in his own thoughts at the moment. “Good day, Lord-Imperator Tibus. I hope that I am not disturbing you. My father has left me in command of the Chosen while he is away in Serrith.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Tibus offering his hand, “son of the High Priest I presume? I had heard of you from him, but he kept discussion about you brief.”

Nodding, Khafra had known that his father didn’t discuss much about him in public. “I am surprised he said anything about me at all. He has been trying to keep me out of the public eye for most of my life. Now however, I think he is feeling a bit of mortality after the rumors that there is unrest in the Chosen.”

Thinking on it, he had an idea of who that unrest could be centered on, but they were too important to simply remove. “I am here on a similar matter actually.” Taking a seat on the bench near the Lord-Imperator, Khafra continued, “At some point, my father will either succeed in one of our missions or he will die before it. In either case, I will need the Republic to be ready to aid us in keeping peace and order within the Chosen.”

“The republic will aid the Chosen, you’ve provided us aid and we too can provide aid if that is what needs to be done,” Tibus stated as he eyed statue, “the Syling would demand that I’d repay your father and the high priestess at some point anyways, it is only fair.”

Thinking on the matter he was unsure why he would mention Neferata. She was the primary purpose he was seeking aid. He didn’t want to make the Lord-Imperator feel uncomfortable on the matter, but he had to at least gather some knowledge.

“Did the High Priestess also come here to speak with you on the matter?”

“Well, I do see her often,” said the Lord-Imperator scratching his chin, “to discuss magic theories, and discuss administration. She is quite fond of discussing that sort of thing, but I think the last time we discussed about the Syling was years ago. Does she have to do with why you are here?”

He was puzzled, typically the High Priestess was buried in her work and sending aides around the complex to do everything that she needed not inside of her work space. The thought of her leaving the complex multiple times over several years was troubling. If she had already made some kind of alliance here, he could find himself in danger once his father died.

“As a matter of fact, she is one of the potential threats within the Chosen’s ranks to its continuity. She has immense knowledge and power, but views herself as an equal of the High Priest instead of his second. She hasn’t reported leaving for many meetings outside of our complex, so that she was here is of some concern to me personally. At some point, I need to know which side the Republic will support. I will not urge you towards either however, as that is a matter for your state. My people are capable of leaving if you ask it of us after all.”

“Do not worry young man, your people wouldn’t need to leave,” stated the Lord-Imperator as he turns his head to the statue giving a sigh, “I think I may be getting to old for politics, but before I leave this world there’s still some things that need to be done.”

Turning back to Khafra, he began again, “I fear that I may leave this world, before your infighting begins Khafra, and I fear some of the Senators in the Senatorial and how they would react. As such I was hoping of finding a suitable companion for Hanson, my son. If my legacy is to continue it would be through him, and he would take on my Syling. As such, he would most likely to be the one to talk to, if I were to pass away. Regardless if a fight were to break out between Neferata and the High Priest, I honestly would find it difficult to choose a side. I respect your father, and I respect him as the authority of the Chosen, but I am also quite fond of Neferata.”

Thinking about what the Lord-Imperator said, perhaps there wouldn’t be any ally for Neferata after all. Unless she found others within Saladonia to aid her. He was also unsure if the Republic knew what the Chosen were planning to do within the next decade. He wasn’t ready to give that information away just yet. Only if his father failed for certain would he involve the Republic there. “ I understand, she is a very charming woman. Her younger sister equally so, just with less ruthless ambition. Iset is her name, she led our undead workers in Vallenia for the last four years. She recently returned and put them to work building up housing near our complex. It seemed to be run down and in need of updating to your current standards. That and we are looking at expanding our own numbers soon. I have my agents recruiting from the Gladium, give them a chance of redemption and my father has gone to Sarrith on a similar mission of recruitment. With luck, we will have enough followers that we can start the next phase of our plans to aid Saladonia.”

Iset, I think I heard Neferata mention her, Tibus thought. The Lord-Imperator realizing he had paused for a series of multiple seconds quickly responds, “Sounds good to me. I think having your people stay in Saladonia has been the best political decision I have ever made, but I think I couldn’t have done it without the competence of the Chosen’s Leadership,” he shifts the discussion, “say Khafra have you ever considered to form a clan?”

Smirking, Khafra responded to the question quickly, “I have, though I do warn you. If my father’s mission fails, mine begins. We do eventually need a place to settle the Chosen into a real settlement. I am unmarried currently, though there are plenty within the chosen who would marry me in a heartbeat, but to make a lasting union here within Saladonia, it would be best to marry into the local nobility.”

Pausing to let that sink in, Khafra then expanded on it. “I am unsure if my father has mentioned it, but we are of noble birth. The current rulers of the Aslani Kingdom are cousins of ours. First cousins in the case of my father. Our establishment of a clan here would require us to become more widely known and that could bring Aslani warriors here. As friend or foe, I am uncertain. If you want us to form a clan, which would tie the whole of the Chosen to the land. We need to know what kind of disposition the warriors of Aslani have regarding our order. If there are those who are sympathetic, we could lure them here to join us. If they are hostile, it would be best to continue building our strength before we make such a move.”

“Good to here your considering,” said the Lord-Imperator bring up his mood, “I was mainly thinking about first establishing the clan, before preparing the clan’s land. That way you can play a role in the Senatorial, and perhaps attempt to elect my son if you believe in him that is. This would also allow you to rightfully expect future land in the future, as the Republic expands.”

Thinking on the matter, Khafra knew what the Lord-Imperator was stating was correct. It wouldn’t stand very long within the Chosen to not be given land immediately, but that was part of the local political structure. There was still an element within the chosen that wished to simply raise hundreds of undead and take the valley for themselves. A minority, but still an element.

“I will have to consider that more in the future and discuss it with my father before any moves are made. The ultimate choice will be mine if it comes down to it.” Taking into account the time he spent already he looks to the Lord-Imperator, “You have given me much to think about Lord-Imperator. I will seek out your son soon, if you could find out what kind of potential marriage alliances I could attain in the Republic, that would be appreciated. I would like to present them to my father whenever he does return. He will be surprised I am sure that I am looking that far into the future of our people.”

“Consider it done, Khafra,” stated Tibus smiling, “Say, what do you see when you see this statue Khafra?” The Lord Imperator nods to the marble statue in the center of the Circle. The fine carved details, brought on by foreign artisans.

Looking onto the statue, Khafra looked. It was similar to some of the statues of Neferkara inside the Chosen’s complex. The addition of one of the Drakelings he had periodically seen in the region was obviously different. “It looks like a statue to commemorate a powerful ruler. Someone who either united a people or conquered a land. Something very worthy of their life’s accomplishments. Who is it of?”

“He is my father, Cratus Rylander, founder of the Saladonian Republic,” stated the Imperator, “He would found the republic and ultimately stabilize the tensions between the outer settlements and the city. It’s also to be said, that he was the only Gladium to have never been marked, or casted out.”

Nodding, he had indeed heard of Cratus Rylander. He was mentioned in several of the stories locals told. Some called him a dangerous rebel others a national hero. It must have been recently, at least how the locals told it. “He would be very proud of the job you have done Lord-Imperator. You have maintained an uneasy balance of power within your city. I hope your successors are half as competent as you are. For the sake of all of our people. I fear what would happen if there were a ruler that tries to re-establish your monarchy. I know the people seem genuinely happy for the rights they have now. The older generation more than the younger.”

He hadn’t been out of isolation long, but he did his best to quickly learn from the people within the city. The only ones who were truly unhappy were the Gladium and those whose families still taught them that the monarchy was the best thing that Saladonia had. He was however, curious. “How did he avoid the mark? I’ve spoken with many of the Gladium and they say it is all but unavoidable once you are disgraced before the Saeling.”

“Yes, my father was a Gladium,” Tibus said uncomfortably, “he betrayed the monarchy, and so too some men. They all were left off the hook though, through a shrewd diplomat, Davian Lazo’s father, Richard Lazos, who had convinced the aeldermen, that it was the Bryre’s who betrayed the people. Ofcourse in the grand scheme of things, both the Bryre King and my father had conducted some breach in the morals, but ultimately they just choose to punish King Vituvian Bryre and marked him alone.”

Nodding at the explanation. Khafra hadn’t heard it quite that way from the Gladium, but it was probably closer to the truth than anything he would hear on the streets. “So his overthrow of a corrupt the King gave him clemency and he was able to raise himself to the office you are now in then? That is impressive. A man of more ambition and less love for his people would have established his own dynasty instead. Truly a national hero.” He looks over it and thinks about the rest of the structures in the city. This was made with some type of stone, which he hasn’t seen in local architecture before. “Which clan’s artisans did the carving for the statue? They did an excellent job. It is similar to the statues that my father has of Neferkara within our complex that were made in Aslani.“

The Lord-Imperator sighed, “sadly, none of the clan artisans could be able to make it, not even Clan Gisby. They are Saladonians best artisans, and yet they wouldn’t have been able to make this. I had paid foreign artisans to make this with the aid of mine. As it stands as a statue of the first Lord-Imperator it also is a glaring reminder of how backwards,” he stops and looks Khafra in the eyes, “a old man like me, won’t be around forever, but a young lad such as yourself would be. From one man to another could you ensure that Saladonia would become a land that could rival even the Aslani in technology and culture?”

Such a proposal would be difficult to follow through with. There were so many factors that went into advancing the technology of Saladonia other than what his people could do. “We are most certainly trying. I know my father has plans to build a pyramid like the ones the Aslani Star-Readers have at some point in the future and that would require more advanced stone working than what Saladonia has at this time. I do believe that I can find some within the CHosen willing to aid Saladonia in this manner for certain.” Putting a hand on the older man’s shoulder, the Aslani Prince continues, “I will do what I can for your city. I already plan to call it home for the majority of my life, if not all of it. I want to see it prosper as much as you do.”

“Thank you, you certainly know how to calm a old man’s turmoil heart,” said Tibus thanking Khafra, “for years my only goal had been to preserve and improve my father’s Saladonian Repub- my Saladonian Republic, to here that I can entrust this wait to someone, after so many years is relieving.”

The Lord-Imperator coughs suddenly, but suppresses it quickly, “Thank you Khafra, I find myself in debt to another one of the Chosen, hopefully I can pay this one off as well as others.”

Nodding in understanding Khafra excuses himself, “I am certain that my guards will be wondering what took so long to ask for your support by now.” Smiling at his own statement, he then gets up and heads towards the exit saying, “It has been a very fruitful conversation with you today Lord-Imperator. I look forward to our next meeting. Perhaps during a session of the Senatorial next time.”

The two men part ways, new knowledge solidifying their friendship. The Chosen having a new mission should Khafra be able to bring them around to it. Saladonia possibly gaining a strong new clan in the future. Khafra thought about these things, but then remembered. He still had a potential crisis to deal with before these future events could solidify themselves. As he reached his guards he said to them, “Let's get back to the complex before the others think I am dead. No need to instigate any further dissent within our own ranks with rumor.”

by **Pasong Tirad** » Mon Dec 17, 2018 7:28 pm

Ita
Beginning of the fifteenth year of the Chiefdom of Chieftess Bacani

Chieftess Bacani's elders called them the Desertmen, the Kamingawan, which in their tongue actually means "Men of the Wilderness," due to their lack of a proper term for the hot land that is their home. They called themselves the Honori, a tribe of people far to the south of the Ita. They came with nothing but the shirts on their backs and their empty sacks, which presumably used to hold food, consumed a long time ago. The ten men and women of the Honori spoke a language similar to that of the Ita, close enough that the Chieftess was able to converse with them without need of any translators. They spoke openly about their city, far to the south and surrounded by the desert sands - a concept they had a difficulty describing, until one of the Ita's Wanderers described the sands of the coast to the east. Like a beach. They continued describing their city and their society. They lived in a large city in the desert, which housed more than twice the number of people the Ita had, and they fed themselves with plants they grow themselves - an idea which fascinated the Chieftess to no end. The idea of being able to tame the earth to meet the needs of her people, especially since they had, just several years ago, come out wounded from a small famine. What really struck the Chieftess was how their society was run - it was run by women. The priests were women, and the rulers were women, in contrast to the largely-patriarchal society of the Ita.

She was given permission by the Wildmen to send her learned men, the apprentices, south to their lands to learn how to tame the earth better than how the Ita know now. In exchange, the Chieftess picked several of the finest goats from their herd to be brought back to the lands of the Honori as a gift to their queens, as well as a heaping handful of silver that they can show off to their people. As they left the Chieftess slumped back on her chair, relieved. Thanks to the Desertmen, her people have basically forgotten about the famine and how she was the main source of blame for it. And, after a few years, her people will learn more about how to master the growth of the plants that can feed her people better. But she had to prepare for it. It was going to cost her people dearly, and so silver must be mined. Heaps upon heaps of silver must be extracted from the earth. A large sacrifice must be given to Lueve, and the whole city must be dedicated in praying to her for their prosperity. Ita must drown in silver before they can fully master the earth.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 11:05 am

Year 341 of the Common Era

Rumors of War
A world of savage creatures and savage days... it is not, perhaps, a surprise that it should give rise to savage men. But to the civilized patron, who sleeps soft on his mat at night, thinking himself safe behind a feeble wall, savagery always comes as a surprise. A surprise anticipated, but the sheer truth a surprise nonetheless. Thus it was in the year three forty one; men and women, vagrants and wanderers, merchants and loners, slowly began straggling out of the woods, bringing rumors of terrifying monsters that devoured men whole and fearsome centaur-beasts that slaughtered all in their path. The earth cried out and swallowed their victims, and the sky poured down fire upon their enemies.

To the environs of Serrith these rumors came, and with them refugees. Two hundred peasants, fleeing this dreadful foe.

And to the mountain-fastness of Ita also appeared the rumors of war, carried on the heels of two hundred souls of base birth, bloodied remnants of a dire passing.

Rebellion!
In the northern settlement of Brewnwall insurgents rise against the Kingdom of Lordaeron, citizen-soldiers dismissed from their posts refusing to lay down their weapons and incensed over the starvation their people suffered in the previous years and, what they purport, to be consistent misrule by their so-called 'Lord' in the south. They have seized the town, and are attempting to rally more men to their cause of ultimately overthrowing the state.

There has also been raiding from Shoval, but this time the skirmishers were successfully turned back when they were spotted by the vigilant guards of the Xcotl, and failed to accomplish any damage of note.

The Magnum Opus: Through careful manipulation of the blood sacrifices, and the precise timing of their slaughter, the Magnum Opus advance their techniques, more able to efficiently absorb soul and breath of the living for use in their workings. A great triumph for the masters of the arcane. Sacrificial Rites discovered.

The Shambling Legion: Great Wolves are not known for being intimidated by men, or indeed easy to kill. Funnily enough, these are traits they share with the undead. Though the beasts are perturbed by the not-living scent of the undead, the shambling creatures prove very poor when it comes to actually ensnaring such swift and powerful Wolves. A paltry handful are caught and slaughtered, barely enough to raise enough corpses to refill the ranks of the Legion from their combat near Shoval.

The Chosen of Neferkara: The recruiting campaign within the reaches of Saladonia is of great success - nearly a hundred souls, lured by the promise of arcane knowledge and status, are drawn from amid the ranks of the disgraced. Though of little skill and small understanding, at time they may become mighty practitioners of the secret magicks of the Chosen. The efforts of the Undead, driven forward by their masters, continue apace.

Chrysí Aspída: With war and raiding commonplace in the confines between Cadmus and the Shoval, and rumors of a larger war with the Xcotl in the air, many merchants are only too happy to hire on skilled guards to ensure their goods reach their destination. Large quantities of copper and gems end up in the treasury of the Chyrsi by the time two years have passed. +Wealth II

The Order of Bright Flame: The training of the warriors of the Light continues dutifully, bodies, minds, and hearts hardened for any conflict to come. Of their efforts in recruiting and the arcane, no success is found.

by **Novas Arcanum** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 11:46 am

The Magnum Opus

"We should march once more to Fergdal by the gods, those men and women of talent and skill shall join our guild" Archmage Severus stated to the Council. It was strange, yet a powerful hum of arcane energy buzzed through the air. The power flowed, and one could see the ley lines intersecting thickly with the walls of and floors of the chamber. It was a gorgeous tapestry of arcana and magic, a work of art representing the constellations that hung in the very heavens itself.

The ten most powerful wizards of the Opus some of the most powerful in the world sat in the circular room at the top of the school a white fire burned in the center. Five men and five women skilled and powerful in the magical arts. These men and women were old, and wise having practiced their craft for decades.

They all respected Archmage Severus for he was undoubtedly one of the most learned and greatest mages in the world yet their confidence in his ambitions had faltered given recent failures. Master Valeria spoke with a voice of song, that reverberated across the room, laced with arcane power.

"The people of Fergdal are primitive, and backward they hardly know the arcane arts at all. Our work has been of great importance to the guild, and our advances have elevated blood magic to new heights, we must not focus on recruitment I say we work with the Xcotl to advance the blood rituals even further!"

"How are we to grow in power if our numbers remain so low?" Master Augustus responded to Valeria's objection.

"We need all the talent we can get, and the more wizards we recruit and train the more powerful we shall become. We need new minds and new prospectives if we are to innovate, lest we stagnate". Master Augustus said in a perspicacious tone reflecting the future state of the guild

Master Aurelia nodded in agreement, her keen eyes shining in the light.

"There are rumors of war, Shoval has recently raided once more only driven away by the copper of the Xcotl, we must recruit all the talent we can get if we are to defend the City and the Academy."

"Then let us all put it to a vote, cast your choices into the fire, as done by the traditions of our guild which extends three centuries since our founding in the Cadmian Republic."

The Masters cast their arcane flames into the white fire. Those in favor cast blue fires, while those opposed cast red fires. In the end, the white fire became a rich and gorgeous blue hue, and the entire room was bathed in its arcane light.

"Then it is official we shall head once more to recruit in Fergdal" Archmage Severus stated to the entire Council. With that, the Masters teleported away from the chamber to prepare for the journey.

Action:
100 Wizards of the Opus recruit Scholars in Fergdal with Wealth I bestowed by the Xcotl government.

by **Holy Tedalonia** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 12:12 pm

The Imperial Republic of Saladonia
City of Salli, Tibus’s bedroom

“Ah Lord-Imperator, you’re awake today,” said Tibus’s Companion Lauren Rylander as she placed a new rag on his forehead. Lauren, was a Lazo’s Clanswoman before marrying into Rylander, her light brown hair. The morning sun shined brightly against her pale skin, and her exotic pale blue eyes shined brightly in the rather dark mud-daub room.

The Lord-Imperator had recently become ill, ruling from his bed. The struggle has gone on for a year, and it was as though through stubbornness alone that the Rylander was able to stay hanging onto life. As time went by Tibus grew more at ease ruling from a bed, rather in the life of the public. He knew this couldn’t last, but due to a disease unknown to him; he was chained to his bed even if he wanted to leave it.

Today, was a special day, as he heard the report from his companion, who ruled in his stead. “The senators, they agreed to your proposal,” she said with happiness holding her beloved’s hand, “they’re going to gather a militia, and a exploration unit.”

“Good,” said the Imperator weakly and begins coughing.

“Hanson, is here too,” his companion continued, “you wanted to talk to him remember?”

Tibus gives a nod, and eyes the doorway. Within the doorway was his son, a lad in his mid 20s.

“Leave us,” he said to wife.

As Hanson walked into the room, Lauren nods and takes her leave. Hanson takes a seat at the end of the bed.

“Hey dad,” said his son unsure what his fathers intentions were, “you wanted me?”

“Yes,” said the Lord-Imperator, “as you’ve heard I have designated you to being my heir, as such you are to take on my Syling, that I have failed to pay off.”

The boy nods.

Tibus continues on, “as the heir to the family, ensuring our clans future is first and foremost. We need to find you a companion.”

Han almost interjects, but stops himself immediately.

“I have considered choices for you, Neferata, Iset, Fiona Bryre, Lydian Lazos, and Jenna Varly. These five are fine choices, take your pick, but make it quick. My time... is not going to be much longer...”

“Understood father,” said Han, “I will fulfill the task you gave to me.”

“Good,” said Tibus, “Let the youngling Khafra, know that he can form a clan. I discussed it with Daros. We came to a agreement. We will hold the clan creation ceremony in the following days. Now go, I must return to my rest.”

“Understood father.”

Hanson leaves the room and leaves his father to his rest. The Lord-Imperator returned fast asleep into his bed. His frail hands that once were strong and might, his frame skinnier and weaker than what it once was, and his hair which has greyed as he decayed, it was as though he had fallen from grace.

by **Olthenia** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 12:35 pm

The Many Mothers of Fastaqui
The Marsh-City

Queen of the Skazahad Delta
________________________________________
The Seventh Matriarchate of Ocanda the Just
The First Day of the Arc of Shoals, Year 343 of the Common Era

“Careful, careful!” barked Mistress Ipana, her voice loud amidst the hiss and clutter.

“Pour it gently. Do not spill a drop!” Her assistants strained, bronzed arms taut as they eased the heavy stone beaker from atop the glowing embers. Some embers, Ipana noted, were fringed with a halo as white as seashells. Good, good. They had to be, for the slag to bubble and ore to pour free. Now, as she watched, her smithy resounded to the strange, liquid slosh of truly molten metal pouring from stony cup and into its muddy mold.

From thence it’d cool, settle and harden – pure and pale and brown. Copper, heated and treated, glistening and perfect. It was a grand as any finery in the Tiers, or any Crone's jest in the Council Hall. It was copper, pure and simple - and by its sheen and luster the Marsh-City, Queen of the Skazahad, would build its future. Gods both above and below should be thanked for it. Gods, aye – but first the craftswoman. For it was she who had stoked the fire, heated the metal and poured it free from the slaggy earth it clung to. She had birthed it, firm and gleaming, into this world – and now all Fastaqui would delight in it.

It was easy, gods be good, to see why.

“Hammers. Pliers. Axes. Knives. Tools and weapons of all sorts could be made from such metal!” Or so wide mouths had exclaimed. Ipana knew better, of course. She was an artisan, lean and spare, with the greying hair and wrinkled skin to prove her age for all to see – and no. Beautiful though copper was, it was not an answer to all life’s troubles. Edges blunted. Fire burst it, if you hammered it thin enough. But it neither rusted, splintered or withered way like bone or wood. Its wealth had soon been evident in the Square of Captains, and now? Well.

By the light of the forge, her aids poured the heavy stone mold full to the brim of swirling, orange metal. They scarcely grunted as they touched the cup to the soil, and Ipana nodded at them. Once. They had done well. Now, if only broad backs and strong arms would claw enough ore from the western hills, Ipana and her sister-artisans could keep their forges blazing – late and early, night and day.

That thought made the old woman smile.

by **Toaslandia** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 4:04 pm

Apostolos smiled at the growth of the treasury, and ordered two of the most powerful and loyal of the Chrysí Aspída to guard it. He then ordered that they once again fortify the camp by trying to cut down trees, and also ordered them to again try and recruit more Chrysí Aspída.

by **Theyra** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 5:05 pm

Aslani Kingdom
Year 343

From their troubled start in their new homeland of Gria Smya, the once small tribe of four steady grew into the thriving city between the twin rivers of the Asl and Esrial. The large sandstone city was filled with moment in the large her people the city was a testament to the enduing will of it's people who almost died out twice years many years ago. Their capitol named after Kevah, the first leader of the Aslani since settling Gria Smya has a monument to him and his daughter Yekta. For she was truly began to understand the magic of that the gods gave to them. When a child is born under one of the fourteen divine stars constellations and made the right offerings to that god. They can use magic based on their god- domain and Yekta and her children would lead to the formation of the Magi priesthood from the scholars of the Aslani. Thus, faith and science became intertwined as the Magi worked to understand more of the night sky to further and other areas to better understand the gods.

Only one thing later would test the resolve of the Aslani and would a new divine star constellation was discovered. This one was unknown to the Aslani and while the Magi worked to see what god was tied to this constellation, it was too late to stop what was in motion. One of these children born under the sign, Neferkara would discover the godly power he could wield. Necromancy, in a lust for power, he led a rebellion with that took over Kev. He regin would not last long and Neferkara and his ink flee the city beaten after rebellion by the Magi destroy his control over Kev. To the dismay of the Aslani, they could not track Neferkara or find his kind. Thus a group was formed within the Magi called the Order of Eternals, named after the trio gods that govern the cycle of life. Ysoi Goddess of Life who which all life comes from, Voi God of Souls who ferries the souls when they died to the afterlife and Siraura Goddess of Death who arbors the creation of undead. They will remain watchfully over the kingdom to make sure that another rebellion by those born under the dark stars can never control the kingdom again.

After the rebellion and in part of the Magi the Aslani are led by Shah Zakaria Shariati a descendant of Kevah and his wife High Priestess Jamileh. in part to the importance of the Magi and for their role in the rebellion against Neferkara. A symbolic alliance was formed and is custom for the ruler of the Aslani to marry a high-ranking member of the Magi ever since. Now, the kingdom so far under Shah Zakaria has prosperous and had gain a interest in venturing out of the their desert. Thus, a body of able men and women were to be trained to venture out of Gria Smya and hopefully start expanding the kingdom's borders. In the meantime the Magi worked to recorded to study the night sky. Before the Neferkara's rebellion, their was old records of the stars made during Kevah's time but, was lost during the rebellion. Eager to regain this lost knowledge and to better understand who the children of future Aslani are born under.

by **Kelmet** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 7:24 pm

The Kingdom of Lordaeron

Year eightteen of the Reign of King Varian Menethil

Turn 9

Traitor's scum. How dare they in Lordaerons hour of need they turned their back on everything they swore oaths to protect. As the King sent The Order of Bright Flame north with the simplest instructions. Find and eliminate any and all rebel forces and secure Brewnwall for the kingdom.

The Knights of the Silver Hand were disappointed they were not chosen for the task but the king ordered them to stay in the capital just in case.

The king was worried, starvation rebellion and war on the hoizon. The light only knew if they would make it threw.

Assignments.

by **Saxony-Brandenburg** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 7:35 pm

The Honori People

The night was silent, still, and cold. Casting a shadow over the city, the Temple of Rule stood tall over the hundreds of souls below. Nigh the wind blew, and no body rustled in the night air, preserving the frozen desert sands, eerie. But, like an unseen arrow that pierces the flesh of it's unknowing victim, a blood curdling scream punctured the silence, and echoed through the hallowed halls of the temple, waking all who slept within, and shattering what once was peace. The mad rush of steps thudding across the stone halls were punctuated by the slamming of the wooden doors of the High Priestess's chamber. In a cold sweat, there lay the woman, shaking. She looked up at the crowd of guards, servants, and minor priestess attendants who crowded the doorway. She dropped her head, and rubbed her eyes with her tired hands. She shook her head, and weakly pushed herself to her feat, off of the skins, mats, and little straw pillows of her bed. She shambled towards the short table beside the door, and splashed cool water across her face. She groaned in pain while staring down into the rippling water, taking several minutes to speak up to the women who'd been watching her for the past while. She spoke with a shaky voice, a sick voice, one of an older, weaker woman.

"... Get me the matriarchs."

...And then told to the midnight council of elder women the tale of a dream. A maddening, sick dream, that to which she could not wholly tell to the elders for want of modesty. But the descriptions of ravenous, bloodthirsty maws of great beasts from just beyond the north chilled the spines of all who heard them, causing even the most emotionally fortified of them to look over their shoulders in fear. She had a demand for them- put not as a threat, but as a warning. Two hundred peasants- well within the city's means- over the course of two years to be called up for service protecting the homeland. In the face of the vision- the council was only too happy to oblige.

Before long the spears and arrows to arm the volunteer army had begun to be set aside- wicker shields and leather helmets crafted and hardened. The Honori took the tidings of their matriarchs incredibly seriously, and those of war even more so. In a few days, the feelings of dread and incredible, heroic fear had spread across the city, forcing men, women, and children to work their fingers to the bone in the coming days. They knew not what was coming, but they would be prepared for it, whatever it was. Gods permitting, that is.

The Delegates of the Ita were brought in with open arms. The tension could be felt by the scholars from the north, it was in the air, as if the very aether could be cut with a knife, and come unraveling about them in great pools of chaos and pain. When they arrived at the gates, they were met with locked and barred doors. It was tradition, apparently, for any foreign representative to ask permission to enter the walls of the city. This was quickly answered by the Sunwarrior, who, after sprinting to the gates with a few of his loyal retainers to greet whoever it was, informed them a sacrifice must be performed before they may enter the gates. He offered, as a honorable host, to provide the sacrifice, and before long the gates were unbarred, and a camel's blood pooled beneath the great timber gates, it's flesh then carried off to be butchered and prepared for the Ita men and women that very night.

After the formalities, the Ita were escorted through the winding streets of Mara, with hundreds of citizens stopping to stare at the northereners, whispering of the fairness of their skin and the strange ways the spoke in. They passed through dusty plazas and crowded markets, the scents of bread, roast meat, and burning herbs following whevever they passed. They walked beneath great, glimmering obelisks, up and up the hill the city was based upon, until they had reached the Temple at the very apex of the city. A monumental building in and of itself, it had taken thousands of Honori man hours to construct. It's square pillars lined the building, holding strong the sheer mass of the structure above. Glimmering carvings, leafed in gold, adorned the walls, shimmering in the great stone braziers the images of great animals from across the region- the Condor, the Winged serpent, the Panther, to name a few. The very center of the complex converged into a great room, massive in size, able to hold over two hundred people standing about. Stone pillars were stacked in two massive stories tall, all converging on the roof- with a great golden sun radiating the light of the tall windows about the hall. On the smooth stone floor then- was a great carving of the moon, adorned with opals of various sizes, smiling up at her companion above. All around sat the elder women of the Honori People, the Matriarchs, who whispered to themselves as the Itan delegation entered. Some of them wore the very silver jewels the Ita had sent for them just years prior- and those who did were the most welcoming of the lot. They approached the Ita, and greeted them with the kiss of the cheek, as friends. The banter grew louder until the High priestess walked before them to sit upon the throne of wood at the far end of the hall, sending the women to rush to their stone benches. She smiled, and when all was silent stood with arms whide.

"Welcome, noble guests. The Honori of the desert vale bid you welcome, and welcome you as kin before the mother. Please, be welcome to sit. We have much to discuss..."

The Division of Labor

by **Nuxipal** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 8:16 pm

The Chosen of Neferkara

A hasty retreat from Sarrith is what took place by Setnakhte and his band of Chosen sent to recruit. They heard news of an impending invasion from the wildlands from the east and immediately needed to prepare to repel them. Knowing now was not the time to try and bring Neferkara back to life, Setnakhte needed another plan. He and Khafra met in private and began to discuss possibilities as well as to check in with how each other's mission went.

"Father, the Lord-Imperator has fallen gravely ill. I fear he won't be alive much longer."

The High Priest sighed heavily. The Lord-Imperator had been a great ally to the Chosen. He himself probably wouldn't live longer than another ten years. Too much time traveling and being in dangerous situations for him to live exceedingly long. "That is quite unfortunate. I will be sure that our people are ready for the trying times ahead in the Republic. How did your mission go?"

Khafra was a little concerned with how little his father seemed to dwell on the fact that a close ally was seemingly close to death. "It went excellent Father. We recruited all the Gladium we could. They wish to become enlightened and join the priesthood of Neferkara as soon as possible."

Nodding to his son's commitments to these people he said simply, "Excellent work. However, their enlightenment will have to wait. There is an impending war on our doorstep. The Saladonians are already preparing for it. I do not believe it will be here that soon however. They would have to go through Serrith first. With some luck that will slow them down enough for us to arm our undead to face them in battle. That is why I need your new recruits to begin collecting sheep from the surrounding hills. I will tell them what is coming and we will use these sheep to create another group of undead."

It seemed a bold plan to go forward with. Capturing untamed sheep and bringing them down to the Chosen's Complex to sacrifice as a means of raising another group of undead. He knew that some of the Saeling were put off by the Undead as it was. However, it was not his place to challenge his father's statements. After all, unrest in the world meant opportunity. And to seize that opportunity, they would have to grow in numbers more than ever before. New undead could easily be made to carry spear and a shield and set off to face hordes of enemies. Many of which may fear facing the undead in battle.

"Very well father, we will do it this way. I do have another meeting with the Saeling at the Senatorial soon. I intend to create an official clan here within the Republic. As you have stated, I need to be ready to do anything in my power to ensure the survival of the Chosen. This will also give me a vote in choosing the next Lord-Imperator. Surely, that is a great power for us to have within the Republic."

Clearly not happy with the decision, but knowing that if he forbade it then it would take place after his death. "Fine, better to be established before my time comes. I only hope that Neferkara rises and talks some sense into you after I am gone however."

With that the two men separate, as they leave, Neferata notices Khafra leaving the complex and sends a pair of her guards to shadow him in the city. Both to spy and ensure he doesn't end up slain. She has a use for the young prince.

by **Pasong Tirad** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 11:35 pm

Ita
Beginning of the seventeenth year of the Chiefdom of Chieftess Bacani

The drums of war were beating once again, and the people of Ita were now preparing themselves for a possible fight that many have not experienced in their lifetimes. Chieftess Bacani barely even remembers the last great siege, which lasted a long, hot summer and consisted of waves of men bashing themselves against the walls of Ita. She knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, she just hoped it would be later. No, not now, she thought. The city needed more time to get her affairs in order.

But time was not on her side, as the refugees started pouring in. At least two hundred souls passed through the gates, all scared and looking for a place they can rest their heads. They were safe here, the Chieftess assured, and they were as much Ita as the elders were now. And since they were Ita, they had to work. If their stories of beasts and war parties are true, then the city must be defended. The Chieftess would mobilize the whole population if she could, but that would strain the ability of her people to support an industry of war, and would starve them within days. She asked her advisers to gather a hundred of the strongest and best hunters the city had, and to begin training them for war. They would be the first soldiers of the Ita in nearly a century, and they would be ready to defend the city.

Already, people began stocking up their houses for the possibility of a siege. Goats were being brought in from the pastures into individual homes, meat of all kinds (but mostly goat) was being smoked constantly in almost every house, and dried meat was hanging off hooks from every single place they could be hung from. Luckily for the Chieftess, she didn't have to stop the people from doing this because the goat herd was vast enough that every single family could own several goats and there would still be enough for the rest of the city. And, with the first few farms of the Ita being almost completed, they wouldn't have to worry about food for the next few years - so long as no external factors threaten their supply, that is. If an army were to arrive, they would be able to pretty much decimate the goat populations, salt the fields, and poison the rivers with ease, for the Ita strategy has always been to take everything into the walls of the city and hold out. The city has stood a century of raids and sieges from a myriad of enemies - it will withstand this one, if only because the Chieftess can envision no other alternative.

These new soldiers, however, wouldn't be able to work as regular citizen militia. They had to become fully trained, full-time warriors. They may just be armed with the rudimentary spears, bows, and slings, but that is more than enough if their foe is an enemy attempting to breach the walls of the city. Spears, sling bullets, and arrows can all be hurled and fired at enemies from the safety of their fortifications. These new soldiers have to leave their old pastoral lives behind. They have to be a warband - the first Ita Warband. It felt glorious to hear, but the Chieftess new this can only mean death for many of them in the future due to fighting. Still, they had to press on. All must make sacrifices for the survival of the Ita.

The scholars from the south, the Desertmen, were all holed up in a corner of the great hall, learning as much as they can from the other elders who were still active enough to be able to teach. They had tools and silver ingots with them, attempting to teach the Honori how to master the Ita art of crafting silver into jewelry. What the Desertmen need with something that has no other value other than that it looks aesthetically pleasing is beyond her, but she knew it was helping develop deeper relations between their two cities. Their protection must be assured, for no doubt that the Desertmen will not take too kindly to the death of their learned men, whether or not it was the fault of the Ita. Maybe one day soon, the Honori may even be able to aid the Ita in their fight for survival. But not today, for not even the fastest Wanderers would be able to reach the Honori in time to be able to get them to rally their troops to come to the defense of the city. The summer was almost over, and the campaign season was in full swing as the scythes were being sheathed and the axes were being taken out into the battlefield.

The Ita would be ready, but it could use more time if it had any.

by **Revlona** » Wed Dec 19, 2018 5:17 am

City of Londearon

The uniformed tromping of boots in order to the called step sounded throughout the city.

Grandmaster Savarian Strong was at the head of the column of marching men.

The traitorous heretics would burn.

“Onward men of the order!!!” He shouted from the head of the column

The men were ready and eager for combat, they were ready, the heretics would burn.

“For the light!” Strong shouted

“For the light” The men shouted back

by **The Empire of Tau** » Wed Dec 19, 2018 8:13 am

Shambling Legion of Ulm Bahadur
Year 341 of the Common Era

- Will add fluff soon -

Action : use Ant-hounds to rise undead.

by **Ralnis** » Wed Dec 19, 2018 9:28 am

Xcotl, City of the Dead

The Gate Council were hearing the complaints of the people and had gave public apologies to the higher families and landowners. The light starvation that hit the city was because the Council was more focused on the war than their own people. With the news of the Kingdom of Lorderon facing a rebellion, they had to be on the defensive even more. The organizations were each asking for more blood and coin so the Council had to decide that they were going to have to slaughter the ant-hounds again in order to sate the need of war but they also need to start thinking of increasing their manpower as well.

It wouldn't be hard to raise another levy of conscripts for a tour of duty when it was time to march but they needed to accumulate taxes first. As for now, the people come first and the second pastures need to be built so that a new ant-hound hive can be transplanted with care. A couple of Magi were sent to the Academy to remind them if they want any more support than they must teach them the new necromantic sacrificial rites that they had developed. It would be good for the use raising the dead and limiting the amount of ant-hounds needing to slaughter in order to raise the undead.

As for the Shambling Legion, the Council had been deciding on trying to give the necromancers access to the ant-hounds, knowing that they were only able to get enough lifeforce from the Great Wolves, they needed more to supplement a larger horde of undead. The Council begrudgingly allowed them to use the herd for necromancy despite the people needing the food. They just had to go get more, and they will need it as the war effort grows larger and the need for blood become larger as well.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Wed Dec 19, 2018 10:33 am

The White Harbor, Cadmian Republic
3rd of First Seed, Year 343 of the Common Era

The lumbering giant of the Wavebreaker crushed its way through the surf and salt-spray of the entrance to the port of Cadmus, humble fishing vessels and small trading skiffs giving it a respectful berth. At her prow Warmaster Ivan Korolev frowned down at the tanned men who gazed in obvious awe upon the bulk of the warship, the first of her kind to come out of the Shipwright's Lane of Kharbarinth. This was a proud moment of unveiling, to be certain, but nonetheless the strategist within his skull was whispering quiet warnings about spies and designs being copied. It was an open secret that the city-states on the edge of the Endless subsided as much off of replicating eachother's ingenuity as truly pushing forward the boundaries of human thought; here, where the might of the new double-decked galley was concerned, the Harbormaster and his underlings were interested in concealing the ingenuity of the design for as long as possible.

A futile hope, it seemed. Already the officer in charge of the delegation could see that the quays, such as Cadmus possessed, were beginning to fill with curious onlookers. The muted colors of spun cotton clothing and native furs formed a mottled tableau against the glistening white stone-slab construction which the folk of the Republic were so fond of. Most of the cotton was an import, but, then again, so were such things as the tiny distinctive glitters of shimmerstone jewelry that the soldier could make out in the throng. Good craftsmen, to be certain, but their grasp on the world about them was smaller than that of the Stalheimadrin and the Hierarchy.

Feet thumped on the deck next to Ivan, and out of the corner of his eye he noted the distinctive hue of the captain's oilcloth coif; a deep blue from crushed lapis lazuli, to denote his position within the crew.

"The men are tired. It will be good for them to get off of the ship." spoke the weather saltman, voice gravelly from years of bellowing over storm and crashing surf. One day Ivan's own throat might succumb to such pressures after the stress of the training grounds, but it had yet to do so. He nodded to the older man, turning his head to display his agreement.

"I am not a warrior of the sea, thank the Maker. Give me firm ground beneath my feet, any day of the week, twice on Restdas." The commander shifted uncomfortably, a faint clinking coming from his armor.

"Not to mention, if I fell overboard in this walking smithy, I would sink even faster than a stone. Not my idea of appropriate aquatic attire." That merely got a chuckle out of the captain, for all of its truth. Men who fought aboard ships - not that there were many, for pirates in the well-traveled waters of the coasts of the Endless were rare - preferred to stick to easily removed vests of padded cloth and woven material than good metal armor like a landsman. Drowning could kill you quicker than most weapons, and the marines who guarded ships of the Hierarch were far more concerned about being lost to the depths than they were of the unlucky spear-thrust or arrow. Not to mention, without metal weapons, most brigands and outlaws' weapons could be turned by cloth well enough.

But not today. Today the soldiers sent to escort the delegation of the Lord Hegemon were decked out in full glittering coats of forged iron, gleaming with layers of light nickel patina and carefully waxed and greased to protect it against the sea. It was part of the argument that the representatives were making, in truth, and a good impression could not be overstated. It had been long years since a formal delegation had arrived to treat with the Senate and her representatives, and the ideas they would propose were... well, likely to be a hard sell. Military strength, in fact, was one of those triads upon which the arguments rested.

And so the layers of lustrous iron scales, the banded girders of chest-armor, the feathered helms and cunningly inlaid shields of the soldiers of the City of Bells. An argument for progress, security, and mutual prosperity. Time would tell how eloquent that argument remained in the time of rebellion, border-skirmishes, and banditry.

by **The GAmeTopians** » Wed Dec 19, 2018 12:53 pm

The Great Zhou Imperium
Year Nineteen of the Second Era

Placeholder, will hopefully be filled with content.

The Ascent of Man [IC|Closed]

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