Elephantom
Chicken Broth Paragon
PREFACE
“The Tharin Kingdom was created over the past few centuries through the efforts of the Old Kings; they who carved out a state of peace in the hewn altars of the lands— whereas the rest of the mainland plunged into the Immortal Wars, in an endless conflict for territory, greed, and hope— in their bid to secure their futures and the future of their allied kingdom . . . indeed, it would be the most prospective cooperation seen by this era, even as the years go by. This amalgamation of kingdoms was out of the war, but the world remained the same, as if stuck in a limbo: the wars were still being fought by the Dominion's northern neighbours, up the mountains of the Rime. Behind the theatre, however, changes were occurring— there was a steady trickle of refugees leaking from the mountain cities, into the lands of the Tharinae, which led to a growth in terms of towns and villages; some examples being Mare towards east of the Capital and near the Rime, and Calun stretching across the length of the Kalt River . . . quietly, ever so slowly, there was a progression of urban interests being pushed by the greater people, owing to an increase in manpower, all running for a better system— a system that profited from these steady changes. After all, industrialisation was a colourful prospect in the eyes of those institutional merchants and pocket investors, and even the people below the chain of monies who had no job nor the skill to afford a job. This led to the formation of cities over the ones already established around the far north and those beyond the coast and away from the Domain's immediate reach. Prime cities aside from the King's domain and the Capital, a dozen or so of their kind interspersed to and fro across the vast lands of the Tharinae. “Out of them all, stood one noticeable example: Calun. The city, the official city, was built near the Capital within the innards of the North Valley through which ran the Kalt River. As it was on fertile lands, with access to the river, Calun became one of the more gifted cities in the Kingdom . . . and later, the most popularized subject of the latter day political progress— as in, the implementations of municipalities and local governors— and from which the growing city benefited greatly. The economy rose, the country rose, and thusly did Calun become a powerful element of the Kingdom: a city for the progressives, the artistic, the modernists, and those interested in seeing towards the future.”
- FABIO DE LUCII
IN LECTURE NO. 23 (AT THE SCHOLARIUM)
SETTING
SEPT. 24,— A HOUS PRODUCTION
PUBLISHED IN KEPPEN WEEKLY
WRITTEN BY MONTE DE FALCEN
Arriving in Calun is a simple affair— Calun itself is a simple affair. A city of dreams, hopes, drunk hopes, lost dreams; a wild variety of deception, a cocktail of human depravity, of loss, hollow desires. A fellow like you can be from anywhere, and hour type usually find lodgings and a job before too long. Of course, too long being the line that blurs poverty and a middling living. It's a fairly colourful place to be— your artists are there, peddling their artistry, and your patrons of culture are also here and about— but good always comes with a dollop of bad.
Down near the Kalt River, in the lowlands, the Vurio houses those less fortunate— those who hadn't been able to pass that blurry line, those who lived their middling lives, those who were hopelessly stuck in the daily bedlam that is common life. But there's a difference between committing crimes to get by, a desperate fool in all their minstrel glory, and doing some normal job like a normal folk. Not that the city cares: it's a crackpot of all sorts of fellows. Fellows like you, fellows unlike you. Some may have to commit crimes to simply get through in life, and some desire to commit crimes for the sake of it. You can wander down those paths and find madmen drunk on the side of a street, the fake beggars sporting their fake wounds, those shopkeepers scowling at you as they sweep away someone else's vomit, the cheap schools whose children shove each other at any moment, and that passing man with a killer's glint in their eyes.
Cross through into the citadel of Litho and it's a rather different affair. A simple affair, as is the city itself, but a whole new leave of different. Even the air seems cleaner; the streets are top-notch, yet to be broken in by popular negligence, the children are bratty but cultured, and the people still sneer at you. Not that much of a difference, depending on your perspective, but there's a quality of living to this high lands. The tons of people who live there have made their names with breakthrough efforts in the military, in the government, with their blue blood, or in business and mercantile dealings.
Where you go, it doesn't matter much. Not to the people overlooking business. It all depends on the coin in your pocket. Should you be well-off, or have connections, you will be able to afford a place to stay in the citadel. If not, the Vurio taverns are gonna be your haunt by default. Poor, poor you: sleep less-than-fitfully on sheets unwashed; wake up, leave with the foul morning-breath of other people staining your clothes, explore the city, pack your dagger or the tools you make a living with, and be gone.
In the end, a stable job's a priority. What occupation suits you best? Tinker? Tailor? Soldier? Sailor? Rich man? Poor man? Begger man? Thief? Vagabond? Businessman? Politician? Commander? Daggerman? Writer? Artist? Performer?
Whatever you do, you're likely to work hard at it. Hard or nothing. The stakes are high, you know it, the people know it. Perhaps you work your best in the Vurio, but grow bitter with your job. Perhaps you alter your persona and visage to better suit you, living a life amongst the elites in spite of your muddy lineage. Either way, in this city, your fellows are your enemies, and enemies are your fellows.
Are you a businessman whose very existence depends upon knowing the city inside and out?
Are you a politician, trying to make your name in the election?
Are you a noble, fruitful or fruitless, who has heard stories of magic, whose extensive family library contains these stories on its dusty shelves?
Either way, you'll tie yourself into this world, just as a fly tangles itself further by struggling in a web.
ADDITIONAL
This is my sophomore effort in this particular setting. I must thank the following individuals for their assistance and collaboration in creating the setting and setting up this particular interest check: Ostinato, Heisenberg, Darkledmind.
1. The GM's directions must be followed on these accounts: prose, direction of story, characterization. However, there is no specificity to such accounts— the measure are necessary to maintain the bare modicum of quality and quantity (emphasis on the former) and ensure everything fits the particular settings and its motifs and themes.
2. Respect other members, have fun, be an amiable lot.
3. I'm hare-strung tryna think up some rules. Let us just say I'm a lax fella: no character sheets, no age limits, no nothing. That being said, communication will most likely take place primarily in the discord server— if you're interested in joining, I ask that you make use of that particular application.
4. Link to discord server: Discord - Free voice and text chat for gamers
“The Tharin Kingdom was created over the past few centuries through the efforts of the Old Kings; they who carved out a state of peace in the hewn altars of the lands— whereas the rest of the mainland plunged into the Immortal Wars, in an endless conflict for territory, greed, and hope— in their bid to secure their futures and the future of their allied kingdom . . . indeed, it would be the most prospective cooperation seen by this era, even as the years go by. This amalgamation of kingdoms was out of the war, but the world remained the same, as if stuck in a limbo: the wars were still being fought by the Dominion's northern neighbours, up the mountains of the Rime. Behind the theatre, however, changes were occurring— there was a steady trickle of refugees leaking from the mountain cities, into the lands of the Tharinae, which led to a growth in terms of towns and villages; some examples being Mare towards east of the Capital and near the Rime, and Calun stretching across the length of the Kalt River . . . quietly, ever so slowly, there was a progression of urban interests being pushed by the greater people, owing to an increase in manpower, all running for a better system— a system that profited from these steady changes. After all, industrialisation was a colourful prospect in the eyes of those institutional merchants and pocket investors, and even the people below the chain of monies who had no job nor the skill to afford a job. This led to the formation of cities over the ones already established around the far north and those beyond the coast and away from the Domain's immediate reach. Prime cities aside from the King's domain and the Capital, a dozen or so of their kind interspersed to and fro across the vast lands of the Tharinae. “Out of them all, stood one noticeable example: Calun. The city, the official city, was built near the Capital within the innards of the North Valley through which ran the Kalt River. As it was on fertile lands, with access to the river, Calun became one of the more gifted cities in the Kingdom . . . and later, the most popularized subject of the latter day political progress— as in, the implementations of municipalities and local governors— and from which the growing city benefited greatly. The economy rose, the country rose, and thusly did Calun become a powerful element of the Kingdom: a city for the progressives, the artistic, the modernists, and those interested in seeing towards the future.”
- FABIO DE LUCII
IN LECTURE NO. 23 (AT THE SCHOLARIUM)
SETTING
SEPT. 24,— A HOUS PRODUCTION
PUBLISHED IN KEPPEN WEEKLY
WRITTEN BY MONTE DE FALCEN
Arriving in Calun is a simple affair— Calun itself is a simple affair. A city of dreams, hopes, drunk hopes, lost dreams; a wild variety of deception, a cocktail of human depravity, of loss, hollow desires. A fellow like you can be from anywhere, and hour type usually find lodgings and a job before too long. Of course, too long being the line that blurs poverty and a middling living. It's a fairly colourful place to be— your artists are there, peddling their artistry, and your patrons of culture are also here and about— but good always comes with a dollop of bad.
Down near the Kalt River, in the lowlands, the Vurio houses those less fortunate— those who hadn't been able to pass that blurry line, those who lived their middling lives, those who were hopelessly stuck in the daily bedlam that is common life. But there's a difference between committing crimes to get by, a desperate fool in all their minstrel glory, and doing some normal job like a normal folk. Not that the city cares: it's a crackpot of all sorts of fellows. Fellows like you, fellows unlike you. Some may have to commit crimes to simply get through in life, and some desire to commit crimes for the sake of it. You can wander down those paths and find madmen drunk on the side of a street, the fake beggars sporting their fake wounds, those shopkeepers scowling at you as they sweep away someone else's vomit, the cheap schools whose children shove each other at any moment, and that passing man with a killer's glint in their eyes.
Cross through into the citadel of Litho and it's a rather different affair. A simple affair, as is the city itself, but a whole new leave of different. Even the air seems cleaner; the streets are top-notch, yet to be broken in by popular negligence, the children are bratty but cultured, and the people still sneer at you. Not that much of a difference, depending on your perspective, but there's a quality of living to this high lands. The tons of people who live there have made their names with breakthrough efforts in the military, in the government, with their blue blood, or in business and mercantile dealings.
Where you go, it doesn't matter much. Not to the people overlooking business. It all depends on the coin in your pocket. Should you be well-off, or have connections, you will be able to afford a place to stay in the citadel. If not, the Vurio taverns are gonna be your haunt by default. Poor, poor you: sleep less-than-fitfully on sheets unwashed; wake up, leave with the foul morning-breath of other people staining your clothes, explore the city, pack your dagger or the tools you make a living with, and be gone.
In the end, a stable job's a priority. What occupation suits you best? Tinker? Tailor? Soldier? Sailor? Rich man? Poor man? Begger man? Thief? Vagabond? Businessman? Politician? Commander? Daggerman? Writer? Artist? Performer?
Whatever you do, you're likely to work hard at it. Hard or nothing. The stakes are high, you know it, the people know it. Perhaps you work your best in the Vurio, but grow bitter with your job. Perhaps you alter your persona and visage to better suit you, living a life amongst the elites in spite of your muddy lineage. Either way, in this city, your fellows are your enemies, and enemies are your fellows.
Are you a businessman whose very existence depends upon knowing the city inside and out?
Are you a politician, trying to make your name in the election?
Are you a noble, fruitful or fruitless, who has heard stories of magic, whose extensive family library contains these stories on its dusty shelves?
Either way, you'll tie yourself into this world, just as a fly tangles itself further by struggling in a web.
ADDITIONAL
This is my sophomore effort in this particular setting. I must thank the following individuals for their assistance and collaboration in creating the setting and setting up this particular interest check: Ostinato, Heisenberg, Darkledmind.
1. The GM's directions must be followed on these accounts: prose, direction of story, characterization. However, there is no specificity to such accounts— the measure are necessary to maintain the bare modicum of quality and quantity (emphasis on the former) and ensure everything fits the particular settings and its motifs and themes.
2. Respect other members, have fun, be an amiable lot.
3. I'm hare-strung tryna think up some rules. Let us just say I'm a lax fella: no character sheets, no age limits, no nothing. That being said, communication will most likely take place primarily in the discord server— if you're interested in joining, I ask that you make use of that particular application.
4. Link to discord server: Discord - Free voice and text chat for gamers
