• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fantasy Throne of Heaven

Physiology of the Bloodline Tiresias


Characteristics of the Blood - Psychology
When one is given the Dark Kiss, when a mortal ASCENDS to the status of an Aishite, what and who they are is changed forever. Both their physiology and psychology are irreversibly altered.

The “blood” or elixir of each Bloodline has it’s own unique effects on the recipient's character. Its own quirks it bestows upon them, it’s own emotions and traits that it amplifies. These traits and characteristics can be beneficial to the subject, or cause them to become strange, easily agitated or worse.

For the Tiresians, ascendancy tends to cause the extreme traits the subject already held to be amplified, in a way making them both MORE “them” but also a caricature of themselves in a way. This is why the blood tends to breed eccentrics. More than this, almost universally Tiresians are cursed with an obsession. Stereotypically, this is with an occult pursuit- the finishing of Tiresian’s unified theory of magic a prominent example, though this obsession may be anything. Additionally, the elixir makes it’s hosts more inclined towards astrological beliefs and even shifts the subject’s personality closer in line with their astrological symbol.

Of course, whether or not these effects are actually true or not, or simple coincidence based on who a bloodline born of eccentrics would even choose to bestow upon their gift and the curses of immortal life, is up for debate. The Old Tiresians believed firmly in these features of the blood, many dedicating their works, their obsessions being its study. The New Tiresians on the other hand, are just as likely to cast these beliefs aside as believe in others.

The “Binding” of the Vampire, Sun-Bound, Moon-Bound or Star-Bound, were also believed to influence the personality of the Childe by the Old Tiresians, with Sun-Bound seen to be more rash, Moon-Bound more stoic, and Star-Bound particularly disposed to be reclusive eccentrics.


Characteristics of the Blood - Powers
The gifts of the elixir go beyond simple immortality and eternal youth. The old, though their features may remain wrinkled and worn, are given the vitality and strength of the youth. All are made strong, both of fortitude and might. Supernatural speed matches their strength and constitution. Mundane blades do little to a vampire, and those wounds that are sustained heal quickly.

However, the gifts come at a well known price- the sun's gaze turned hateful and a vulnerability to silver.

These are the standard traits that all vampires gain, to greater or lesser degrees depending on their generation. The traits will remain as strong as they are the first night the vampire is “reborn” until the vampire is put to final death. Contrary to common belief, a vampire's strength comes from their generation, how close they are through blood to the chalice itself, rather than from age. Those of older generations may be unbelievably powerful, with strength beyond giants and speed beyond comprehension. But their weaknesses are equally as great. The sun will turn them to ash in the blink of an eye and silver will permanently scar their flesh. Those of a newer generation cannot match the strength nor speed of their elders, but may only find their sunburn rather easily and silver simply causes minor irritation. As the chalice is diluted, so are it’s gifts and curses.

Beyond these traits, what gifts are given by the Chalice is strongly determined by the bloodline of the Vampire, as the characteristics, personality and skills of the Progenitors greatly determined how their bloodlines manifested. Though the unique traits of the subject themselves also influence how the blood manifests.

For Tiresians, there is an astrological component to the powers granted by the chalice. Depending on when the subject was turned, where and under what constellations, the blood may manifest in several various ways. These are generally separated into three “types” of Tiresians; the Sun-Bound, the Moon-Bound and the Star-Bound, with each tending towards differing abilities.

The Sun-Bound
Ironically touched by the very thing that seeks to erase them, it is less surprising when one considers how important and central an astrological symbol the sun itself is.

The Sun-Bound are fueled paradoxically by the sun itself. They are less affected by it’s rays, and find that their power grows as the sun rises and wanes as the sun sets. The solar eclipse is a grave time for the Sun-Bound, as their source of power is cut off and under a total eclipse, they once again become mortal for a short time. They are often gifted pyromancers as well as astral mages. Like all vampires of the Tiresian bloodline, they have control over specific animals, with the Sun-Bound able to command and transform into Lions and Eagles; those animals which symbolize the sun. The Sun-Bound are often the physically strongest of the Bloodline with the greatest fortitude, though are the slowest. Capable of flight, they may spread out great eagles wings.

They are often most active during the day and sleep during the night. This is the newest variation of the blood, though some propose that this binding ahs always existed, but when the blood was more potent it’s members were simply vaporized by the very thing that fueled their power.

Common Powers:
Ability to ignite objects by touch
Scalding touch - mere touch can cause severe burns
Ability to flush their skin with color and warmth

The Moon-Bound
The Moon-Bound are closer to stereotypical vampires, though share some traits with werewolves that sometimes see Moon-Bound Tiresians hunted for the wrong reason. Though perhaps justifiable regardless.

Moon-Bound Tiresians find their power tied to the waning and waxing of the moon, finding greatest power under the full moon. Therefore nocturnal, they have a great affinity for the creatures of the night, often possessing great nature magics and the ability to control and shift into Wolves and Owls. The Moon-Bound are known for their speed and stealth, though are physically weaker than other vampires of the same generation. They are somewhat more affected by the sun than others as well, losing some of their abilities such as mistform. The most powerful Moon-Bound vampires are capable of becoming Ethereal for a short time. Capable of flight, their wings are those of great owls.

Common Powers:
Lack of footsteps (sounds and imprints)
Ability to turn into a semi-corporeal shadow

The Star-Bound
The stereotypical Tiresians, these are the eccentric seer-mages. A mostly dead lineage, the Star-Bound are the most capable astral mages, and mages in general, of the Tiresians. It is rare for a Tiresian to be born a star mage, usually only being born to those blessed during or around important astrological events, or those who were already powerful astral mages or seers.
Star-Bound find their powers amongst the constellations, and often seek out dark, quiet and tall places from which to gaze up at them. They can often be found cloistered together like monks in a monastery high on mountain tops, but instead of a monastery it is an observatory prone to astral accidents. Their physical abilities all around tend to be weaker, though their astral powers and abilities of seers more than make up for this. They can control and shift into wolves and ravens.

Common abilities:
Mind Reading
Hypnosis
Manipulation of Emotions (Empathic abilities)
Full Mind Control
True Divination


Psionics
Most important of the powers granted to the Tiresians and most unique to them are their proficiency with psionic magics. The stereotypes of a vampire being able to speak telepathically, being able to hypnotize their victims and to tell the future, these all come from the Tiresians.

All Tiresians, regardless of sign, have at least some proficiency with psionic powers, with the Star-Born being the most proficient by far.

Psionics powers, from common to uncommon, include:
Telepathy
Telekinesis
Foresight/Precognition
Pyrokinesis (for the Sun-Bound)

Though these abilities are “common”, not all Tiresians have all of these abilities, and some may not even have any (especially those of very young generations).
What all Tiresians have, even if to a very light degree, is an inherent connection to one another through which they can, consciously and subconsciously, share thoughts, feelings and images with one another. This ability is referred to as “The Aether”.

The Aether is a pseudo hivemind, a very light connection through the astral sea that connects Tiresians. Through this, each Tiresian may act as both a transmitter and receiver of psychic communications, with their power related to the potency of their blood. Through the aether they can send broad concepts and strong emotions in an area around them communication, with stronger vampires having stronger broadcasts over longer distances. As Tiresian vampires draw closer to each other, communications get more detailed until complete and clear messages and thoughts can be sent.

While this enables ease of communications, especially when subtly is required, it also poses risk. Sending signals through the astral sea is not as risky as it sounds of course. More thoughts and emotions are small blips across a swirling hurricane of astral energies. But when large numbers of Tiresians gather, or when powerful Tiresians enter rages or when they gather, their larger footprints can act as beacons to attract horrors. As a result of this and other described catastrophes, there are not many Tiresians of older generations left.

Other Tiresians, especially the Star-Born, have psionic powers beyond simple parlor tricks. They can hypnotize with a glance, control the very thoughts and emotions of mortals, divine the future from the stars or project their spiritual forms far from their bodies and potentially, ascend to a state beyond their mortal form know as “Gnosis” in which the soul is unbound from the body, existing as a sort of “Astral Lich” which may travel through the ethereal planes and possess bodies and objects much like a ghost.
Psionic powers, from uncommon to rare, include:
Mind Reading
Hypnosis
Manipulation of Emotions (Empathic abilities)
Full Mind Control
Astral projection
True Divination
(Note that most of these powers almost exclusively belong to the rare Star-Born Tiresians).


Characteristics of the Blood - Appearance
Tiresian vampires typically appear as pale mortals of whatever species they were in life. Partly due to their arguably undead nature, and partly due to their aversion to sunlight. Sun-Born Tiresians tend to have more color to their skin and feel warm to the touch, helping them to pass better for mortals while others produce no heat, warming to whatever the temperature of the room they are in is.

Unlike most vampires, Tiresians have no fangs or claws.


Feeding:
All Vampires feed off of vitae- energies of the soul. While most drink of this through the blood, the Tiresians feed off of mortal vitae via feeding on mental energy. Different types of mental energies are more vulnerable/accessible to be feasted upon psychically. The easiest are emotions. Emotions radiate off of people, composing a significant portion of their aura. The stronger the emotion, the more prominent it becomes in their aura and even causes the aura to grow in size. Psychic vampires tend to feed off of this readily available emotional energy. They tend to stalk places rich with an emotion they find particularly tasty. Ever found yourself particularly tired out after a moving tragedy? That comedy have you laugh so hard your now spent? Just worn out after the funeral? A psychic vampire probably has a full stomach thanks to you.

But emotions are like a snack. Tasty sure, and you can fill yourself up on them certainly. But you're not going to get strong off of junk food. You’ve never seen a bodybuilder with a diet of chocolate milk and skittles.

Thoughts, dreams, desires are the charcuterie boards of mental energies. A little more substance, but really just the teaser for the main course of deeper mental energies; the self. Eating thoughts, dreams and desires may leave the subject feeling a little sluggish and dull, but they will recover. They are feeding off the energies from these thoughts and dreams, not the core of the person.

More powerful vampires can suck the emotions and thoughts of a subject dry, and then begin to feed on the prey's personality, eating of their ego. Emotions are generated. Eating them too deeply can tire out your prey but it won’t ever kill them. Eating someone’s personality won’t kill them either- but it will leave them a bland husk of their former selves.

When all emotions are drained away, after the shell is cracked and the meat is eaten; their personality slurped like an oyster, the soul is laid bare.

Ravenous vampires, those in the throes of the beast, or those cruel or spited by the victim may then drink of the soul itself. Consuming it in a fit of immense ecstasy. This will leave the person SOUL SLAIN.

Eating emotions just requires the vampire to be in the same room as the victim. They can go out to a crowd at a festival and just passively consume emotions. This act is essentially invisible. One can only detect such a feeding is occurring through its effects.

But if they want to start eating thoughts, dreams and desires they need to be much closer, forming a physical connection. Lady Alcina for example prefers to eating Desires… which she loves to generate. It’s why she runs such a… *physical* cult.

When a psychic vampire begin to feast on the personality, it becomes readily evident that something is happening. The vampire's eyes begin to glow softly and you can see strands of psychic energy leaving the victim's body and entering the open mouth and nostril of the vampire. Soul eating is this but more, as one can see the victim's astral self leaving their body and entering the vampire.


Starvation - The Beast
A psychic vampire that does not feed begins to slow down mentally. Their minds grows dull, thoughts begin to grow foggy, their thinking disjointed, while their body remains as it is. This is stage 1 of starvation. Next, reason begins to leave them. Their actions no longer fall in line with rationality and they start to experience symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia as they enter a stage of mania. They become unpredictable and often violent, and will feed without regard or restrain on whoever, whatever they can. This is stage 2. In stage 3, their schizophrenic symptoms intensify. But their thinking begins to dramatically increase in speed. In fact, their mental faculties and psychic abilities increase exponentially, surpassing their previous normal levels. This is known as the Rapture, as the psychic vampire “sends” victims to the next world (oblivion). A psychic vampire in the throes of Rapture is disproportionately psychically powerful; able to directly feast on the soul regardless of prior feeding or original strength. All previously latent or possible psychic talents manifest in a barely controlled fashion. Psychic energy crackles around them in maelstroms, objects and people alike whip around them in telekinetic storms and thoughts and emotions are physically manifested as the vampire drinks all at once.

While this may ensure that the vampire feeds and leaves the throes of the beast, it acts as a shining beacon in the astral sea. It is immensely fortunate if the vampire does not attract horrors to its location and if it does not become HORROR MARKED. Those vampires that recover from this stage are universally killed save rare luck in escaping the mark- such a thing is a death sentence for the bearer as much as those around them.

If the vampire, for whatever reason, still cannot feed, and is not killed by horrors, in Stage 4 it will begin to CONSUME its own soul, rapidly withering away psychically until it blinks out of existence, possibly leaving a tear in the fabric of the astral sea.


The Dark Kiss
To “give the gift of Ascendance” is the highest honor a vampire can bestow upon a mortal.

In the process the mortal is drank deep, drinking away their emotions, thoughts, desires and personality until all that is left is their bare soul. Then, rather than drink deeper or cease, the vampire RETURNS the mental energy of the recipient through the psychic connection, giving with it a part of themselves- a fraction of the elixir. This is in part why a Childe will in some ways come to resemble their Sire, even if they were very different in life. They may gain some of the same ticks, interests, or suddenly develop a talent or yearning for something they had never before, including for the arcane arts. However, this process of returning their vitae, the Rebirth/Remewal, is an imprecise act. It is difficult to control what is returned. Some things may be lost, or things that did not belong to the recipient given. The essences of others recently fed upon can find their way mixed with the essences of the recipient, giving them the thoughts, memories, talents, or even personalities of others. This is a risk unique to Psychic vampires, and especially prominent if the Blesser has recently drank deep of a prey.


ACTIONS:
1. [Redacted]

2. Lady Alcina and Thyra will attend The Gil-Galit Academy of Magic, Sorcery, and Philosophy (G-GAMSP). Both will train their Nature magics.
A beacon of higher learning, gleaming in white stone and mosaics. Those who study here to upgrade their Paths may roll twice and take the higher result. Currently open to citizenry for a pittance, but foreign exchange students may be negotiated...
 
The Herde

1696795642735-jpeg.1118283


Military Power
3

Economic Power
0

Unique Resource
Airag

Perks
Nomads
As a nomadic tribe, it is harder for herde to set up 'trade deals' that are rather permanent in any real means. Whenever the herde enters a region you may decide if they come as Traders or Raiders... with the implications of both being obvious. As the Herde gains a reputation, this may change and the option maybe picked for them.

Raid and Plunder
The Herde has the ability to freely raid and plunder.. Due to the Herde's sheer speed, being all cavalry, it is very hard to 'pin them down'. The Herde may decide if it is plundering the land [and so avoiding more fortified settlements] and the chance of being intercepted and forced to a fight is exceptionally low, or if it will be burning all of it and so attempting to conquer cities, towns and forts where a battle is guaranteed.

The Riders of the Harvest
Whenever the Herde enters a large battle, and a battalion does exceptionally well, I will note them. You will then give them a name and that 'batallion' will become something of a 'heroic unit', gaining unique abilities or higher stats to reflect their status. Groom many heroic units, push the ones you have to new heights and dominate the field of battle. Be warned, if one such unit dies, it will create a wave of panic in the rest.

Units

Commanders

Studs
Studs are 'priest' that can draw their lineage back to the legendary four centaur of old, and they have the unique fur coat to match. Some are a deep bloody red, some an inky pitch black while others are a sterling pearl white. Studs aren't quite the leaders that Warhorses are, but their presence is inspiring as they chant about the legends of old to inspire their fellows. Studs are Level 1 Death Mages.

Warhorses
Magnassia was filled with many tribes before they were unified by Baroqee at the cost of their leaders. With the chieftains killed, command has fallen to those who wield the greatest experience on the battlefield, the great warriors and veterans of the tribes who have seen the most conflict. What 'kind' of Warhorse it is depends on what unit it is assigned to, a Warhorse within a Minotaur Unit is assumed to be a Minotaur. Generally, Centaur Warhorses are the best leaders, Minotaur Warhorses are the greatest warriors and Sataur Warhorses are the most cunning.

Elite Units

Minotaurs
Minotaurs are immensely large and powerful taurs. They are the things of nightmares and so cause Fear especially as they are charging towards a squishy line of two-legged creatures that thought they could stand in their way. Minotaurs use immense great axes to reap a blood toil, cleaving through armor and crushing opposition. Minotaurs have an internal desire to 'feast', to consume the flesh of their prey and gorge themselves.. as such, Minotaurs have Frenzy [Be warned, as cavalry with frenzy, this means they may charge without orders]. Minotaurs are.. not cheap.

Harpies
The Harpies are not 'really' part of the Herde, but instead they follow the Herde looking to snatch up victims that the Herde misses or lure enemies to the Herde so that they may snap a few morsels up for themselves. These 'beautiful' bird women are ferocious fighters, but their real value comes in the fact they are natural fliers making them exceptionally quick and hard to pin down. Harpies can attempt to 'sing' to lure enemy out of formation and towards them, disrupting lines.

Basic Units

Sataur Raiders
Sataur Raiders are a light, unarmored cavalry unit that is very quick on their hooves but lack the sheer punch of their larger cousins. Being part goats, they ignore any terrain penalties and may ride free and fast over any obstacle in their path. Sataur Raiders are armed with spears and short bows that they use to harrass the enemy. While they aren't likely to win a skirmish trade, their sheer speed makes them great for flanking or charging light infantry that are exposed and are fairly cheap for what they are.

Centaur Warrior
The Centaur Warrior is the tried and true Centaur Warrior and make up the bulk of the warriors. They wear light leather lamellar armor, use powerful recurve bows and carry large lances and swords for when they come thundering into melee. They can skirmish, they can charge headlong into combat, they can run around the flanks, there is little a Centaur Warrior cannot do, but they are more expensive then most 'basic' units of other nations.

The Awakened
Sataur tend to be a mischievous bunch.. They are the real 'party animals' of the Herde, dancing and singing under the moon as they dance and drink deep the Airag. This has the strange effect of luring men and women into their parties where they end up discarding their clothes and 'giving in' to the savagery of life. These Awakened don't have much of a real purpose outside of doing chores and other light work, in between the Sataur parties, but on the battlefield they are the only 'infantry' the Herde really has. They are unarmored [and unclothed most of the time] and use simple wooden spears and shields. They are brave, but not great fighters and tend to be undiciplined. Their greatest perk is.. they're free.

Godbound

Image


Name
Baroqee
'The Great Uniter, The Pale Mare and the Coming of the Four Horsemen'

Race
Centaur

Word
Famine

Power
Balancing of the Scales
Land ravaged by Baroqee find that it never recovers. Crops seem to wilt and wither on the vine, waters turn rancid and disease spreads throughout the land. Baroqee permanently lowers the economic prosperity of any land that she successfully raids as population stalls and starts to die off. If a land is plundered enough, it becomes a land of death where it actively becomes hostile to the living. Only an opposing word, such as Fertility, can even attempt to reverse this effect.

Gifts

Greater Gifts


Mistress of Carrion
All Carrion Birds [Vultures, Crows, Etc] will obey Baroqee. They listen to her commands and will follow her will [although they follow their instincts and so aren't suicidal]. Baroqee may see and hear through any carrion bird within a mile of her position. Baroqee may cast the spell: Raven's Feast for free.

Raven's Feast - A massive unkindness of Ravens descends upon the site of a battle and gorges themselves on the flesh of the fallen. They then return to the caster where their stomachs are ripped open and death gems harvested. Amount of gems depends on the size of the battle they feast upon.


Wither
Baroqee can force all enemies within 100 feet to 'Wither'. This will cause constant damage to foes as their bodies begin to atrophy and wither to nothing. As their strength fails, so too will their prowess... Unworthy are helpless against this while Heroic and Worthy take a test each round, if they fail, not only do they take damage but their might is lowered as well. [They regain their might the next game turn... if they survive]

Lesser Gifts

Wheat to Barley, Hoof to Dust
Whenever Baroqee and the Herd pillage a province, they roll twice for loot and take the better rolls. If the Herd is ever forced to retreat or flee a battlefield, they count their retreat as an Organized Withdrawal.

Dead Scar
Baroqee can drain the life from the ground beneath her hooves and channel that into the herd. This leads a massive 'dead scar' wherever the Herd has been, but doubles their map movement.

Turn 2

guillaume-leblay-highresscreenshot00000.jpg


Open plains as far as the eye could see. Not a tree nor boulder for miles. Only the tall grass shrouded by long shadows in the light of the Sun as a wasteland lay beyond.

Xanda turned his huge head from left to right, his bleached blonde locks waving in the breeze. In all this open terrain, speed would be key if their plan was to succeed. An overwhelming charge to shatter the lines and to crush any stragglers underhoof.

Clad in black lamellar, the Centaur could feel himself sweat under his armour as he looked outward toward the sun. The scouts would be best to cover themselves in peat or clay, thought the ageing Warhorse as he stared past the withered land and at the blob on the horizon.

There would be no shade nor cover as they waited lest they cast long shadows before them. For only death lurked in the shadows.

One of many Buce superstitions, but it had served them well through the centuries. Xanda scoffed. If others wanted to bring bad luck upon them, then so be it. But a Buce had a reputation to keep.

A Minotauride approached him, her long hair draping over her black breastplate and bare shoulders. She flicked her hair to one side, a single blue eye looking at Xanda. "What is your gut telling you, Xanda?"

Xanda snorted. "If we are to camp out of sight of the encroaching army, it will be close, Bran." he answered.

"But that is why our Great Uniter and Word Bearer has entrusted us this task. We are Buce! The strongest and fastest tribe in all of Magnassia!" bellowed Xanda.

Bran stomped her foot in agreement. The Warhorse pulled free the ceremonial knife, made from Minotaur horn, hanging from his belt and held it towards her.

"Choose well your pound of flesh sister! For soon, we shall strike!"

Xanda reared upwards, kicking his front legs as he whinnied like thunder, the blood encrusted blade glowing orange in the Sun's light

Orders
1. SECRET
2. Slipnir Tribe will establish a quarry near one of their camps to excavate Stone from the cliffs and valleys of Magnassia. Hard heads and strong legs will forgoe the use of traditional excavation tools (Stone Masonry used)
 
Last edited:
Turn 2

⌜۞⌟☾ Kiyan Taric ☽⌞۞⌝



Action 1 :
Train the army
Action 2 :
Make money


⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟Order Details⌞۞⌝⌞۞⌝⌞۞⌝⌞


  • - Elixir of life
    - godbound power : Life
    - Might 3
    - Fire 1
    - Nature 3
    - Montague play critical success bonus (patriotism and moral)
    - Defiant nation perk (unless only apply to battle. But hey if Akthubit culture of defiance can also help since it will be a defensive war.)
    - Warrior-Queen nation perk (Going to use Kiyan good reputation to convince people to join and her new soldiers to trust her.)
    - Kiyan is an experienced military commander (and much closer to her army then many previous rulers) so I hope she's less susceptible to (critical failure) teach her soldiers to hold a spear backward or being as respected as a substitute teacher in middle school. Because otherwise I'm fixing that asap.
    (Aim to raise MP as much as possible)
    (Small scene requested of Kiyan studying and training her army. Unless bad event fall onto me. Then switch to her dealing with that. I just want to be able to Will or Fate some of my dices if possible really. So I can personally only bemoan my own lack of luck. Or sacrifice 3h of sleep to thank the dice God for hearing my plea)

    Kiyan have encourage akthubian to prepare to defend their homeland. Stating that new recruits are welcomed. She will train her army and commanders using everything at her disposition. She work herself to the ground, day and night. To learn and do as much as possible. Until she is so exhausted and without strength or mana that she have no choice but to drink the elixir of life. (Still when she is absolutely sure she is alone in her private quarter.)

    Examples :
    - Learn even more strategies and way to fights. So she can teach it to her commanders and make sure they train her soldiers correctly. She want them to be able to do their job without her needing to be here in the best case. Yes-man are something she is known to despise and Kiyan always encourage them to speak up. Taking their propositions or ideas seriously.
    - Coordinate with her Fitawrarim (most talented and loyal commanders) and amir (simple commanders) to make sure their army is well rounded. And there is no major weak point or miscommunication. (Aka meeting and giving orders on who can do what best and what to reinforce)
    - Go to check on as many of her regiment as she is able. Talk directly to amir and their soldiers if she can. Kiyan listen to what they need and try to resolve as many of their problems as she would be able.
    - Take care of logistics personally and see that Akthubit won't have any problems with that. Quartermasters will also be listened to and as many of their problems solved as possible, like the amir.
    - Try to pry for any bad apple or incompetents slowing everything and getting rid of them.
    - Also Kiyan is observing for any talents or promising recruits to promote and nurture. Any good ideas or clever proposition. No matter the domain. If it can help, she is looking out for it.
    - Drill her whole army relentlessly. (She most likely do it personally or help the current amir for each regiment she visit. Whatever help the soldiers learn best. The rest will be drilled by their designated commanders. But Kiyan will watch over their progress carefully)
    And use her fire magic to encourage them. As well as her nature and life power to replenish their strength, and heal wounds gained as much as she can.


⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸
Oh, Nilelith River, flowing strong and true,
Carry our hopes and dreams, leading us to something new.
In the ruins of the past, echoes of history's call,
Guided by mirrors of self-reflection, we'll rise, standing tall.

- From the song "Resilient River" by the songstress and musician Amina the Nightingale

⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟


Fortress of Raqis. Abekum quarters. Morning.

Sifting through her papers again, Imani let out a yawn. Early morning, and this was the fifth merchants who asked for a pass to trade outside of Akthubit. Sure. Merchants going from kingdom to kingdom was the norm. But so many in such a place ? Weird.
"Sleepy ?" Asked Gedam, while she paused briefly to put a strand of reddish hair back into the low bun she wore.
Busy applying red stamps, the practiced thud reverberating through the abek office. Or rather what served as a desk and a waiting room.
"Tired." Imani replied and cracked her neck. Her dark brown ponytail falling behind as she did.

Despite Raqis not being a small village, it was first a fortress. Who saw far more visitors then citizens. If any really. The main population was soldiers by far, followed by the artisans and civilians that helped them. Imani didn't think she would see such a rush with their average being three visitors per week and a soldier send to inform them of any change.
"It's just unexpected is all." Imani shrugged. Before Gedam could respond. Fana peaked from behind her. "Someone didn't keep up ? Did she ?" She said in a sing-sang voice, smiling. Putting the stack of paper near her desk, at the right of Imani where her place was. Flipping her long black hair back, she put an elbow on the stack
—something the old chief abek Wael told her multiple time not to do—
and leaned closer.
"The Company of the Oak just came back." She said lowering her voice.
Gedam and Imani briefly looked at each other before the latter said. "....and ?"
Fana rolled her eyes, looking at both deadpan. She sat down loudly.
"You two are hopeless." She scolded and started to arrange the papers in small groups. Aggressively ignoring both of her friends.
Gedam at the left side of Imani, tilted her head down to better look at her. "Pretty please ? Fana the all knowing who's also the most well dressed in all of Raqis." She clapped her hand together. And nudged Imani.
"Yeah. uh, please Fana ? Last time you told us about the old auntie Zewde it was very useful." She looked back at Gedam.
"The one trying to set me up with her ugly goat of a son ?" Fana gave her the side eye.
"Oh yeah I forgot that.....well you did say she sold good cinnamon cakes. And you're right I wen-" Imani let out a loud ouch as she got shoved by an elbow. Looking miffed at her friend before getting it and letting out a silent oh.
"What she meant was that you're the only reason us poor old ladies know anything in this small tiny town." Gedam pleaded with a smile as Imani mumbled in agreement.
Fana rose one skeptical eyebrow and looked at each of them. Crossing her arms. "How come you don't know this though ? What were you doing this week." She played along.
"Reading my new book about the botany of northern Akthubit !" Imani said excited.
"Helping the quartermaster with inventory. It pay really well." Gedam nodded to herself.
Fana pointed at Imani. "You are hopeless." Then at Gedam. "You are even more hopeless." And looked away shaking her head. Defeated.
Imani looked up and shrugged. Not really getting it.
Gedam scratched her cheek, mind visibly searching for an answer. "Why I am more hopeless though ?"
Fana groaned and let her head drop on Imani shoulder. Wiping invisible tears on her own cheeks. "She doesn't even get it Ima !" She whined. "Geda went there. In the military quarter. Shock full of ruggedly handsome men that could carry her with one arm !" Fana loosely hugged Imani. "Fiercely beautiful women that could kill with a gaze !" She trailed off. "And she sat there. Staring at the 80 years old face of the quartermaster !" Fana wailed even louder. Her friend put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head, looking at the other accusingly.
"You know what you did."
Gedam lowered her head in shame.
"I plead guilty." She said and joined the hug.

After a beat, all three couldn't resist anymore and giggled like little girls.
Fana and Gedam getting back to their place.

Holding her head as if in great distress the former continued. "Geda honey, the true tragedy is that you had first place to see it all" She fixed her long black hair and moved her chair closer.
Imani and Gedam both leaning in.
"See, a few months ago, the Negest engaged this Company of the Oak to help with bandits."
"Yeah. We heard but what's so different this time ?" Imani interrupted.
"Ahem. If you would." Fana stared at her and continued. "Turn out the Negest didn't order them to take out any petty thiefs." She paused, dragging the suspense as much as she could. After a few seconds Gedam gestured impatiently for Fana to continue. The latter smiled faintly and lowering her voice further said.
"It was the triplet. The sand, the dagger and the blood."
Both of her friends eyes widened and Fana rose a hand up to stop any questions. "The sand flew with the wind while the rest were crushed. But that's not even the most unbelievable ." She stopped.
"Wait. They really managed to get rid of the blood ? I thought those were the most crazy !" Imani let out, putting a hand on her mouth.
Gedam nodded. "The dagger is crafty as well. No wonder the sand escaped if they already faced such opposition."
Both looked at Fana again. Waiting.
"Yes they did. And although their mission wasn't fulfilled completely." She waved her hand. "The Negest don't seem to mind. Did you hear about what their leader did ?" Fana leaned even closer toward her friends.
"This morning I briefly passed two people talking about a great monster being slayed. But....that's all really."
Gedam blinked and tilted her head. Imani agreed. "Yeah. I didn't really pay attention. I was reading on my way."
Fana snorted. "As expected of you Ima. That wasn't any monster though," her eyes twinkled, "it was a storm demon."

There was a silence as Gedam leaned back unblinking and Imani mouth stayed opened, both women frozen in shock. In unision both glanced to the other. And launched a barrage of questions at their friend. How is that possible ? Are you kidding ? Who did it ? Was it really a storm demon ? How did you know about it ! On and on as Fana couldn't stop laughing.

The three friends continued to banter and share gossips. Unaware that soon, at dusk. A weary messenger would come and deliver a new.....

⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟

City of Kusuh. In a school of scribes.

Yasin Gebre sharpened reed moved frantically. The black dye he used as ink etching words into the parchment, almost tearing it multiple time. Yet, this was the third one. A gust of air through the window opening made all the papers around his desk lift up.
The town crier booming voice could still be faintly heard as he passed again.

Bent over his work, the old scribe hear nothing but his swirling thoughts. War was coming. Again. Walking this earth so long he thought he be more desensitized. But as his hand continued to copy. He wondered if it would ever stop.

When he had started as an apprentice, Negus Nebawe Azmar had just passed away. All of Akthubit sincerely mourning his loss for months. Now, few apprentices understood why someone would lament the dead of anyone in the former dynasty. But Yasin always remembered the end of the first invasion. He was barely a child when nestled to his mother. He would listen to the town crier speak of how, Negus Azmar the valorous, kept refusing to bend the knee despite their defeat. Fighting for itself was a part of Akthubit. Her rich land coveted since the sun started to rise and fall. And continuing to be to this day. But at the time, peace had been with them for about 100 years. Enough for his generation to think that maybe, just maybe, they could be known as something else then the "wealthy" land invaded by this or that.
Nurbellium had been unstoppable.
But the Negus never abandoned. Even when it was clear Akthubit would not win. He was determined to make the Pharaoh rue the day he set a foot here. After the bulk of their army had been killed. It had been months and months of sabotages and war in the shadows. The only way the Pharaoh found to make the Negus stop was to cowardly burn cities, and threaten to do more if he didn't surrender. But even after, rebellions kept rising one after the other, galvanized by their Negus devotion. At this point Nurbellium knew Akthubit would be a losing victory.
The old scribe grip on his reed tightened as he recalled their new tyrants first action. They aimed to make sure they would recoup their loss in the future. Negus Nebawe Azmar was forced to take the name Thoth. But none, not even him, would have cared much. No. The foulest thing Nurbellium did was take away his son. The young Azmar II, now prince Thoth II.
To be raised in their land, according to their way.
Akthubit wept. First their kingdom. And now their future.
But the old scribe could only imagine how the Negus would have felt. The monarch went on, defiant until the very end. But it was a secret for none that the loss of his son killed something in him.

Yasin finished the third page. Shaking it to the wind to dry it. He then put it on top of the others and took a new parchment. He needed to hurry. Afternoon would be here soon. And today it wasn't his eldest that brought him lunch but his last daughter. The old scribe writing faster if such a thing was possible. His little bee famous for scolding her father when he overworked himself. But he would not rest until this manuscript copy would be done.

Future generations needed to know that King Thoth II reign was not the same as his son. In an ironic twist, the Pharaoh was pressured to step down after conquering Akthubit. The shame and embarrassment great. For what was supposed to be an easy victory had cost him the same as a war against far greater foes. Soon, the old Pharaoh ability were in doubt and his daughter immediately took his place. She planned for the long term. The young Thoth II rumored to have being treated like the Pharaoh own son.
Once back in his homeland, Akthubit welcomed it rightful heir with careful hope. Not having to stand a governor anymore satisfying most. The new King applied himself diligently. Aiming to revitalize his kingdom. Of which he found great success. Bringing the knowledge he acquired in his land of adoption to his motherland. It is around this time that a few voiced their growing concerns however. Contrary to his father. King Thoth II seemed only half akthubian in his ways. He spoke it but preferred to speak nurbellian, and encouraged his people to learn it. Added many nurbellian dishs to traditional ceremonies, and although a color used by some past akthubian rulers. Had a great fondness for blue, despite many associating it with Nurbellium. Alas, those were swiftly silenced, by the countless other who opened their arms to the return of peace and prosperity.
Little by little the monarch kept introducing Nurbellium culture into Akthubit. But after marrying one of the Pharaoh many daughters. His name became controversial. More people suspicious that his new wife would sway him toward the invader, while the rest clamored that this marriage meant that Nurbellium now saw Akthubit as it equal. Yasin remembered losing friends over such arguments. The controversial nature of the King only growing over time. Near the end of his reign, cracks had started to appear. He not only favored Nurbellium merchants, but also his personal circle in every domains. And intensified his military control over Akthubit. Trying briefly to do the same with Bondar before abandoning at the difficulty of the task. The old scribe vaguely remembered when scandals about the Royal abekum had started to leak. The outrage was great. But it was a flame without fuel. Extinguished swiftly by the stability his generation clung onto. Their children dissatisfied but resigned.
He was a well established scribe with a wife and many children. When King Thoth III ascended to the throne. His father dying of a sudden illness. Many speculation were made on what kind it was. Or if it was just poison. The old King having made a lot of enemies among the nobility. Some lower status akthubian clans, holding grudges against being passed over in favor of the King more "Nurbellium inclined" friends. Yasin had a mirthless smile at the memory. The powerful complaining about favoritism was always amusing.
King Thoth III reign was the same as his father. Except he was worse in every way.
The old scribe can count on his hand the number of time the King addressed his people. No matter the tradition or what happened, the monarch stayed cloistered in his palace. Uncaring of what went on outside. What was visible to all however. Was how corrupt the abekum had become. It was now impossible to do the slightest thing, if they didn't consider you one of their friends. And of course you gave "gifts" to your friends. When they kindly did something for you. Yasin hand stopped. If he had enough money at the time. Then maybe. Maybe, his children would have had their mother a little longer.

He finished the fourth page and put another on his desk. His reed moving too fast. Even a proper scribe writing would be illegible at this speed. But he wasn't just a scribe. He was an old one. A very old one. So old, Yasin thought he would join his ancestors. Before he heard people overthrowing the Golden dynasty. Or rather the traitor one as it was now called. The previous harvests had been bad when it started. The people first prayed, then they begged the King, and after that too fell on deaf ear, they fought. Many time did it happen. And many time they were swatted like flies. The old scribe wondering if the harvest getting worse each years, was already a sign of the coming disappearance of their pantheon.
The last harvest before the storm that would engulf Akthubit, was one of the worst it long history had seen. They called it the hungry jackal, the wrath of the gods or simply the great famine. But no matter it name. When King Thoth III refused to plead to Nurbellium. For the suffering Akthubit to be exempted from it yearly tribute. Everyone—even those with a lingering affection for the last 2 kings—knew that the dynasty ruling them and it whole court. Had not a drop of akthubian blood left in their veins.

And that's when she struck. Her wings swift and her claws certains. Of all the rebel leader he could have imagined. A Taric was not one of them. And yet here they were. About to be lead to war by a Negest of this old—and before her quite secondary—clan who a generation before. Were content to slit anyone throat if who they served ordered it.
Despite the new Negest seeming different. Would she be different enough from the rest ?

"Baba you leave that scroll or I rip it !" Yasin jumped up and turned around. His youngest daughter stared at him. Holding a small bundle. "Ah Tadi ! Don't give your old man such a scare. Unless you want you're heritage sooner !" Tadi rolled her eyes, and went to take up the braided cloth rolled up near the window. Putting it near another stool on the corner. Her father refusing to eat near his desk. The old scribe quickly put away his work and pinned it. Making sure it wouldn't fly away. Then he walked to the low stool and sat down with a sigh. Tadi settled on the cloth near and started to unpack her bundle. "Here I come. Making you your favorite. And you're trying to win a bet on how fast you can break your hand." She shook her head and opened up the lunch box. Handing it to her father. He smiled as he saw that she made dulet, injera flatbreads on the side. The pot filled with minced tripes, livers, and lean beef fried in butter, onions, chile, cardamom and pepper. His favorite.
"Aya, little bee. Old bone like mine are made different." Her daughter pinched one of his knee and he let out a loud ouch.

Which started their endless banter as Tadi made sure that her father ate well. They talked and they even laughed. His daughter speaking of this and that. She told him that her son had hear their Negest call and was well decided to serve. The old scribe simply nodded in understanding. Yasin still hoped that the future would be better for his children, grandchildren, and grand grand children. He already lived longer then a simple man like himself could have imagined. And he knew he could die in peace by looking at his daughter. Like her son, and thousands of akthubian. All of them were set on wrestling back the future they deserved. Or die trying.

⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟


Aksan. Capital of Akthubit. In one of the royal temple. Just after the sunrise.

Zaraqat frowned, holding back another sigh as she kept her head down. That priestess mumbled too slowly for her liking. She kept shuffling her feet or adjust her position.
Baran, sitting on his lower leg and knees with his head down, glanced in his friend direction. "Zara please." He whispered his hand clutched together. The old priestess walked by with the golden incense holder. Uttering a prayer in ancient akthubian. Her eyes closed. She walked by each of the fitawrarim and abekum balemval. The line of the 10 commanders longer. Compared to the 3 high councillors at the opposite side who were sitting further from each other to fill the space.
It had been 1 hour that, first, the priestess walked in a straight line near each of them until she reached the altar at the very far end. Then turned around it 3 time, and switched for another of the 3 incense holders. This time she took the silver one. It seemed she didn't need to see to know which was which.
Dilshad, in the same position. Tsked softly. "I should be the one complaining," the abeku of art shook his head and whispered, "you won't have the displeasure to deal with old men rambling about lack of representation later." Zaraqat rolled her eyes. The abeku straightened his back as the old priestess came by again and left. He could feel Yeshi glaring at him and glanced her way. And, ah yeah, there it was. The usually opulent abeku of economic still fuming at having to wear that white tunics they were tucked in.
—And so was he to an extend. It was plain enough to be criminal—
She made use of this brief window of time to mouth at the three of them.
"If you screw this up and make her redo it all. I KILL you."
Dilshad smiled innocently as Baran put his palms up and Zara mouthed back. "But it's so boring and useless !"

As the sound of the old priestess steps grew louder. And she swayed the copper incense holder. All of them immediately put their hand back together and lowered their head in silence. That was close.
A ritual of this importance, Abbat Abanu had told them, could be done again and again if when called. The deities of war and protection found it unsatisfying. Well, no gods could make sure now, the old abeku of religion had sadly admitted. But it didn't matter.
The Rite of Bestowing. Was as old as Akthubit. Following it or not had never been a choice.

A bit further, Azeb glanced at her friends bickering and smirked. Thank her good hearing, she could still hear Zara faintly whining about having to learn that "stupid" pledge. As Yeshi and Dilshad kept sassing back to her and each other about who had it worse. While poor Baran desperately tried to calm them. Ah, the usual. The very entertaining usual. The fitawrari felt Thasara gaze asking her what was funny. The abeku of science—ironically some could say— following the ritual etiquette as much as she could. Azeb mouthed "Just the 4 being them." She briefly smiled.
Thasara let out a quiet sigh. "I can't say I blame them. Few can act like a status for so long." She mouthed back.
Azeb raised an eyebrow and whispered.
"Kebede exist."
Both stiffled a laugh, as Thasara nodded in agreement. The two glancing even further down the hall. As the old priestess walked near the fitawrari. The man had kept his back perfectly straight, head gracefully down and hands so tightly clutched that you could doubt he would manage to separate them. The picture of devotion and respect.
Thasara and Azeb gazed at each others. What a fake.
The fitawrari whispered. "You're going to teach me that Keb, or I'll keep calling you Jaja." Knowing perfectly that even from the very end of the room, Kebede had hear her. In fact, Azeb was sure he had been eavesdropping since they arrived. The sneaky bastard.

The priestess continued her rounds a few time. Then finally. She stopped at the altar and put the golden incense holder next to the silver and copper one. A small thud resonated in the room. The priestess walked to a covered bird cage and put the cloth on a table behind. Inside was a tightly bound sacred ibis. It white and shiny plumage a beautiful contrast to the deep black on the tip of it wings, tail, legs and beak. The old priestess maneuvering around it long legs and scythe like beak to get it out. She put it on the altar, near the wide golden bowl placed into a hole in the platform. One of her hand holding it in place. While the other, fetched a wide and long steel knife engraved with ancient inscription, that hung on her belt. She looked to the opening on the wall above the altar. Some of the early morning sun rays shining down. Muttering her last prayer, she gutted the ibis. As she disemboweled the bird, a surge of thick and deep blood fell and slowly filled the golden bowl. Once finished. She put a palm on it head and softly kissed it. Then with her two hand laid it down on the cloth as if she was burying her child. She empties some others vials that none could guess at the content. Beside that it made the mixture last longer and not run off. It was to be kept on for a whole day after all.
The old priestess then called for all of them to rise as she took position near the bowl.

Few managed to stay completely poised as they felt the urge to crack their necks. Some rare fitawrarim had to school their expression of surprise at the ibis sorry state. All of it intestines were out, it stomach hacked into, and much of it plumage soaked in it own blood. The abekum present, especially the one of science. Had an even harder time. But while Dilshad didn't like blood because it was annoying to wash. And Yeshi hated it because, now, only rural peasants made sacrifices. Thasara genuinely felt bad about the bird painful end. Abbat Abanu told her that it was raised for this along with it kin. And that it youngs would be honored and cared for. But now it did not help soothe her heart.

The priestess stared at the fitawrari who sat the closest to the altar. Kebede nimbly rose and walked up the little set of stairs.

Once here, he kneeled again, the old priestess asked.
"Doth thou seek the favor of the gods, to grant thee their divine intervention and bless thy endeavors?"

Kebede answered.
"Aye, I seek the benevolent favor of the gods, that they may bless our endeavors and aid in our triumph."
She dipped the tip of her fingers in the blood and traced one thin line under his eyes.

"Doth thy spirit seek the blessings of our ancestors, that their strength may light thy path in this campaign?"

Kebede answered.
"Aye, I beseech our honored ancestors for their guidance and their strength to guide us on this venture."
The priestess dipped her thumbs and traced one line under the other. Thus this time on each of his cheeks.

"Dost thou pledge thy loyalty, unwavering and true, to the crown of Akthubit and its rightful ruler?"

Kebede answered.
"Aye, I swear my undying loyalty and devotion to the crown and the monarch who leads us."
She made another line on each of his cheeks. This one in the middle.

"Art thou prepared to tread the path of war and claim victory in the name of Akthubit?"

Kebede answered.
"Aye, for I am willing to face the perils of battle or die in the name of our kingdom."
She made yet another line on each of his cheeks. This one near his jaw.

"Canst thou bear the weight of thy responsibility, knowing the sacrifices and challenges that lie ahead in the battlefield, and remain steadfast in the face of adversity?"

Kebede answered.
"Aye, I am ready to face the trials of war, to fight bravely for our kingdom, and to protect our lands and people with all my might."
She dipped three fingers and dragged them on his forehead. Making three parallels lines.

"Wilt thou honor the fallen, remembering their sacrifice and ensuring their deeds shall not be forgotten?"

Kebede answered.
"Aye, I shall honor the fallen, cherishing their sacrifice and ensuring their deeds live on in the annals of our kingdom."
She dragged two bloody fingers from his nose to his mouth and chin. His whole face now covered.

"Rise. What is thy name ? Speaketh it loud and clear, that the gods may know thee."

He rose slowly.
"My name is Kebede Gebre, sage Priestess."

"So be it, Kebede Gebre. By the power vested in me. I, a humble priestess of the gods, do stand witness to thy pledge before the divine deities. May they bless thee with their favor and grant thee strength and wisdom in the battles to come."

She took the blood soaked steel knife."Let their essence flow through thy veins, mingling with thine own, and may our predecessors' spirits walk beside thee on the field of war and guide thee with their ancient prowess."
The priestess took his hand and made a cut on his palm. Stepping a bit aside to let him pass.

Kebede clenched his hand, some of his blood falling into the bowl. He then lightly dipped his whole palm and looked at her.

"Go forth. And may the gods' blessings be upon thee in this sacred endeavor."

He bowed low and solemnly started to walk away. The sound of his feet the only thing heard. Two acolytes on each side opened the massive double doors. Light filled the temple as Kebede stepped outside. As it vanished and the doors closed loudly. The priestess stared at another fitawrari. On and on it would go. Until all of them had pledge their life to Akthubit.

⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟⌜۞⌟


Inside the akthubian palace. Early morning. Royal necropolis.

"By heavens' grace, O noble sovereign, thou art bid: Seek ye the counsel of thy regal forefathers, entombed in ethereal slumber. Kneel before their vaulted majesty, beseech their sage voices for guidance in this sacred hour,"
Abbat Abanu gestured for the acolytes to open the two heavy door of the garden of eternal rest.
"Let thy pride be humbled, humility thy shield, as thou implore the remnants of thy ancestral crown."
He pointed to the crypt and looked at Kiyan. The Queen clad in a simple white dress. Red markings with white dots interweaved between each lines, covered her whole face. She nodded and stepped inside. The door closed behind her with a loud bang. Now, she would be completely alone until she emerged. The nearest guards being at the entrance, 30 minutes away from here. The Negest being herself, she checked and double checked that no one was here or could listen. If she wasn't able to do that much. She may as well sacrifice herself immediately rather then waste Akthubit time.

In the garden where laid it former rulers. Status of gods and spirits fashioned in time past still stood. Lining the way to the forever opened crypt. Kiyan walked up to it, her bare feet cold on the cobblestone road. In it was a rows of tombs lined up on each side. With a massive altar at the wall facing any visitor. On it was a ceremonial shield and sword. As well as a scepter and elaborate gold circlet. Incenses sticks were burning surrounded by the daily offering of the priests and priestesses caring for the necropolis. Despite not looking like a normal crypt. Under the altar, half concealed. Was a trap door that lead below. Where every singles remains of Akthubit former rulers were buried after a time. At least in theory. Who knew how many dynasty had desacralize it, in the hope of rewriting history ?

Kiyan went to the altar first as tradition demanded. Only Akthubit founders had the right to stay above and eternal. As all of them joined the rest below sooner or later. She kneeled before the 2 status and put her bloodied hand on the altar.

"To thee, King Menelik, Queen Makeda, my forebears, I humbly kneel,
Bestow thy blessings upon me, I appeal.
Through storm and strife, thy legacy endure,
With thy spirits by my side, forevermore."


After, she went from tombs to tombs. Paying her respect to each King and Queen. It didn't matter, the bloody Dehanessa, the prodigious commander Xella, the greedy Lekan or the just Zarah. A monarch in the crypt was an ancestor. And once below, a guardian spirit. As Kiyan finished, she kneeled one last time at the entrance and put her head and hands on the ground. She then rose and went outside.

Her eyes drank in the whole garden. The fresh morning breeze on her cheeks. A few of the status fell, an oddly shaped head of what seemed to be a lion, next to a goddess with her two arms broken. And smaller status that had cut, impact and even burn marks on them. Kiyan supposed they once represented minor servants deities or spirits.
There among it all, her gaze noticed a patch of grass that looked different from the other. Overturned and new.
All that garden stuck out like a sore thumb anyway. She shall order for that to be fixed.
Without meaning to Kiyan approached and sat down close. Between a fallen status of an imposing deity and a trio of little laughing spirits in pristine conditions. As if to mock the once proud God strewn on the dirt. The grass around here was a lighter shade of green. She shook her head, no one even bothered to take the shovel back.
"I admit this time we did a shoddy work." She sighed.
"Although.....can you blame us your Majesties ?" Kiyan stared at the spot, as if she could hear them.
"Who could have thought you would try to run away from here ?"
It was once a tightly kept secret, that under the crypt were Akthubit guardians laid, was also a passage leading out of the palace.
"I knew Azir was never with us mind you. I just expected he wouldn't think betraying us at this precise moment would be smart," her gaze hardened, "and it wasn't. Zaraqat soldiers got to him too."
Kiyan lips affected a sardonic smile, that was a fitting end for that snake anyway.
"I will pass you the details, that's what you always asked me to do. No ?"
She glanced down and ran her fingers through the grass. "Make your life easier." Kiyan put an elbow on the ground to support herself, now half laying down. "Believe it or not. But I didn't intend for all of you to die in such a way." She snorted. "Meager compensation. I know. But..." Her breath got caught in her throat. "I- well, I guess that for once. I owe you this much."
Her gaze softened. "You were waiting for them after all. Weren't you ?"
Why did they stuck around for so long otherwise. They only had the ability to put a few rocks to block that secret passage. You don't even need magic to clear it in 10 minute. The idiots waited.
Alas, the one with them were their only followers. Who could have thought nannies would be that easy to bribe ?
Kiyan shook her head. History will believe that the Royal couple planned to ran away without their youngests.
"Before I came here. I was with Mu and Sebe." She said flatly. They understood.

The royal residence was so immense that while her soldiers had already taken half of it. The smaller palace where she had walked was still blissfully unaware. Kiyan had made sure of it too. The children in the nursery were not dangerous. But if their mothers had the slightest chance to call reinforcements. They would have. She signalled her soldiers to get to work. It was agreed she would take care of the twin by herself.
Kiyan had strolled in their room as if it was just any other day, completely armored. Yet her heart was as bare as she would allow. As usual. She ordered their history tutor away. Sebek perked up, not paying much attention. As usual. He asked her eagerly when she would go to fight again. Kiyan messed with his hair, told him that he would come with her and Seth when he would be older. As usual. Mulu was already pulling on her arm, asking for attention. Kiyan smiled at her and extended her hands. As usual. Mu gave her another drawing. A larger then life Kiyan was killing a pack of hyenas. They had roamed around a village a week before. Mu told her that finally, mama agreed to get her a tutor so she could be a painter. She always hugged Kiyan a lot. And then her twin would hug her a lot too, he didn't like to lose.
Soon it was time for their daily snacks before their nap.
So Kiyan got up. As usual. She went to meet the maid outside while Sebe and Mu were playing tag. Even as one of her follower, the poor girl looked distraught. The Royal general put a firm hand on her shoulder. The maid nodded and made a silent gesture. Warning her leader that the others would be here soon.
The future Negest took the golden platter. Sebek liked dried fruits a lot, and Mulu preferred tiny honey and nuts filled buns shaped like bird. It was her favorite animal. Both twin had a deep love for pomegranate juice. Kiyan made sure to order for only their favorites. She told them to keep it a secret. That she would stay instead of the nanny to make sure they were asleep. Sebe wanted her to hold his hand. And soon Mu did as well. Their hero didn't let go until she had to fight the guards.

"They didn't suffer. I made sure of that." She said, eyes following the last of the sunrise rays. Early afternoon would be here soon. "I thought about putting you both in the crypt. But, well, to be blunt no one can tell apart your bones from those of the slaves you took with you. Not anymore." Zaraqat had been the first to arrive before Jamil joined her. And the Negest wager that the broken status were her fault alone. No one could match her zeal, not even her soldiers despite their efforts. How poetic that it was those two.
Kiyan leaned against the trio of status.
"Ironic, isn't it ? If you had listened to Azir rather then my father. You'll still be here my King." But he always put his loved one before all else. Even his country. How cruel that in another life she could have liked him more then her father. Not that it was difficult.
"You weren't good....but you were kind to me." Her shoulder sagged.
"Especially you my Queen. You'r- I mean." She scoffed and looked away.
"I never told you but....the fact you offered Jamil to my mother when I was 7 years old."
Kiyan grew silent. ".....is the only reason I'm standing here now." She murmured.

Queen Tirfe loved Amina the Nightingale to sing for her. The Queen praising Kiyan a lot even when she was a child. Such good manners and etiquette for one such as you she liked to say. But she remarked that her Amina, seemed to have taught her daughter only akthubian and nurbellian. Visibly worry that if this continued, her favorite singer's sole child may not stay in touch with her origins.

Queen Tirfe genius plan was to buy Kiyan a playmate. Chosen by first looking at who was the most expensive—as was her habit—but most importantly, his pretty face. One that only spoke abylian.

The Negest still wonder when it was that the Queen learned her mother was from the Abylid Caliph. Amina was doing the opposite of shouting it.

All she is sure of however, is that her mother thanked the Queen profusely and smiled. That kind of smile only her daughter could tell did not reach her eyes.

She looked at the spot again. It was so long ago too. On reflex Kiyan touched her left side, the deep scar had disappeared along with the others when she became a godbound.
But she could still feel it.
"If only you had paid attention to what kind of pretty face you bought." She chuckled dryly. "Not that it matter now. Anyway as you can guess. Akthubit is going to war." Kiyan sat up. "....I don't even know why I'm warning you."
She shook her head.
"I stole your afterlife."
Getting on her feet she started to dust herself off.

All over Akthubit, messengers and town criers were delivering the Negest messages to her people. The Negest helped a bit by her best advisors, sure. But Kiyan had never sold akthubian false dreams. And her speech reflected that still. It would not be easy. They may not be a glorious victory. But it didn't matter. Akthubit was free. And she would fight to keep it free or die trying. No matter who. No matter what. And Negest Nebawe Kiyan Taric needed not ask to know that her people would fight too. Land of Defiance.
Was only one among many nicknames, past invaders regretted ignoring.
After this, as tradition demanded, she would don her Royal armor and speak to her army. Such was to be the first day of an akthubian ruler at war. With the rest officially dedicated to nothing but drill, strategy, logistics and of course fighting.

She took one step away then stopped, Kiyan looked at the crypt, then at the spot of grass again.
"It was Seth who told me." Her eyes grew vacant. "He fought well." She marched off.



War was coming.

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸
 
Last edited:
1696049733176.png
Nomolos of Kozan
Bearer of Knowledge
Turn 02
Archivum Kozan



1103 M - Octos 20th - Common Year
Year 0 - Octos 20th - Godfall

What folly I face in the absence of the Sovereign and other gods departed. The fool, so eager to crush, could not be bothered to complete his work. The world is now on the cusp of paying for such half-assed administration by a petulant child like the Sovereign was. I should not be surprised though, should I? Kozan stands because he could not be bothered to annihilate us like the other Archivums, simply because we were storage and not teachers of the forbidden. So now the Dragon King, seemingly smote, is set to return because of that same spiteful god king's laziness.

It makes me start to dread what else has the Sovereign left waiting for him to vanish. What else will come crawling out of the depths of the earth or through tears in our reality to come play again? I've yet to fully consider the scale of horror coming our way, but I know it is coming. If the Dragon King is waking, others will set about in motion. The Jotuns will march. Only the Sovereign likely could keep them caged in Jotunheim for this long. If they have a King, he will be a giant of power that could even dare to seek the Throne themselves.

I already am setting about forging alliances, including with neighbors where I can. I must gather more scholars and mages to my banner. The armies of Kozan must swell in strength to stand against the coming darkness whether it be the ambitions of the Dragon King or likely imminent Jotuns rallying their human vassals into a terrible horde to pillage the world and assert their authority beyond their cold lands.

Population is now my issue but the Archivum has the advantage of wealth from our various services provides as scholars and mages. We shall tap into this now to recruit new souls to our cause. We need them badly as much to expand our ranks of mages as to increase library staff to improve our research capacity. The coming threats demand we be able to dig deeply into our stores. Kozan is vast and the dwarves built it well. We have the space and even means to expand. Now we must risk infiltration but drawing in many more to expand our means. A risk worth taking when our magics can aid in preventing or discouraging such treachery. I will not be foolish to think it cannot happen. Not after the theft by the First City. It will happen again, but we will be ready for it.

I can only hope my efforts will shore up those who must face the Dragon King more directly. I feel powerless on some level, like a man in tower at the center of a forest. I can SEE the fire at the edge and know it will come to me. Yet by the time I were to run to it, that area will already be ablaze. The most I can do is warn those in that area, prime them with knowledge. Already my whisper stones are being dispatched to a growing array of nations and individuals coming together in mutual concern. Kozan is the tower. The lighthouse. We must continue to be so, even if some we help will do terrible things. The world is primed for calamity and we will only endure if we can stand next to monsters and hold the walls up together.


Actions 1: Archivum Kozan will commence contruction and expansion of a Terra Cotta Army using the knowledge uncovered by Nomolos.

Action 2: Archivum Kozan initiates a grand scale recruitment program to draw in any willing souls to dwell in Kozan to expand its staff and capabilities, particularly mages needed to help control and direct the Terra Cotta Army.
 
Last edited:
Montague
Turn 2
LucasGhost LucasGhost

With great fanfare did Montague arrive in Nurbellium.. His flying kobolds fluttering their glitter wings raining down the tiniest fragments of his splendor until the buildings and people below [with only some angry and pained cries as specs landed into eyes]. A long line of phantasmal dancers seemed to flicker moving from dancing position to dance position with a stop motion performance that elected a few oohs and aahs from delighted spectators, and more then a few disparaging huffs by the more experienced air mages within the nation who had come to watch seeing it as a great waste of mana and effort from a, clearly, greatly skilled mage. It seemed great minds thought alike as Montague had similar plans to what opera to put on as Nurbellium did! To show the truth about the supposed 'Warrior-Queen' Arnalia Arnalia . How she was not some great liberator, she was in fact a murderer who plunged her nation into war, kicked out the rightful rulers, murdered many innocent women and children just because they had relatives from other nations and were a 'risk' and now sought to close an iron fist around the very nation she 'liberated'. The Opera begs the question, when does the 'liberator' become the 'Tyrant'?

The opera is... okay. It is set in a rather lovely amphitheater that is made of a white marble with veins of gold etched into it, but the opera is truly nothing special. The themes are a bit played out, the 'twist' of Kiyan's fall to madness is seen coming and the death of the 'hero' comes off as a bit shallow and uninspired. The opera isn't bad, but it comes off as very uninspired, still it, and the repeat performances, aren't something people regret going to. Everyone that goes agrees it was a 'quaint' experience, but certainly pales in comparison to his performance in Akthubit. Montague is paid by representatives of Pharaoh Nailah the IX, gain 1 EP, but it seems apparent that the Pharaoh is a bit disappointed in the performance and so hadn't invited him to come to her nor had given him a truly mighty gift. Still, Montague held up his end of the deal, so it could be possible to use this 'foot in the door' to create more formalized relations if he wished.

....

So, Montague may have wanted his own knights, but reality wasn't so kind. Knights weren't something that simply sprang from the ground, and while many angry commoners or lazy nobles would say 'knighthood is just a title' any true knight would run them through for saying that. Knights require a significant investment in wealth and training.. Wealth Caolin wasn't wanting to put in and the training was not helpful. The Rose did what she could, but she was not a true knight. She was more akin to an artist and a duelist... Instead of attracting militia or artist, the Academy instead is flooded by Caolin Duelist. People eager to learn from the Rose, eager to prove their own worth and swept up by their own delusions of grandeur and sweeping romantic gestures by LARPing as knights..

This, as one can expect, goes horribly. Any militia or artist that hoped to join are all but forced out by the Duelist who often kill those who don't leave in duels that they are not allowed to reject [else they stab them anyways]. The duelist, themselves, constantly fight one another, damaging the academy and their brawls spill out into the streets destroying and damaging inns and shops. This violence only escalates with many Duelist seeing themselves as Knights and so start demanding 'special privileges' such as never paying their bar tab, or taking nice clothing or new swords without payment or even asking including one smith run through with a blade he just forged for daring to question 'a knight' [... The duelist had not been knighted, but none of that seemed to matter]

The people of Caolin are growing extremely restless... Something must be done before the city breaks out in riots..

Decision Point
1. Have the Rose try to humble the Duelist with a Caolin Blade Gauntlet
Rose challenges the best duelist and engages them, one after another, without rest until either she is dead or they are all beaten.

2. Send in the army to arrest the worst offenders and try to restore order

3. Your idea
 
Dr. Glass
Turn 2
LecternOfJasper LecternOfJasper

Advertisements urging people to join G-GAMSP are sent to the other cities within Gil-Galit as well as the nearby nations.. It does bring some more students, but not as many as they'd like. It seems the poorer people of the nation simply cannot afford it, at least, afford enough classes to truly make a profit while the more wealthy prospective students are still unsure about this Academy and seem content to keep their private tutors and advisors.. But new prospective mages do join. These young mages do have enough money to make the payments to gain some profit, but the true value comes in the handful of more experienced ones who can step in as teachers and unlock two more paths that could be fielded on the battlefield if that ever becomes needed.. But the academy also receives a letter delivered by a very large white owl, it is from the famed Druid Ayas Tordithas, they are offering to come to teach at the academy, and aid Gil-Galit as part of his services in return for financial compensation and support on his own research in his free time...

Decision
1. Pocket the Profits [Gain 1 EP] and the ability to take Leve 2 Earth and Level 2 Air Professors into battle
2. Accept Ayas and gain a powerful Druid hero

Dr. Glass' own studying goes extremely well. The academy is incredibly well stocked with both books filled with theoretical instructions as well as plenty of space and materials for practical applications.. Many of the other students need help, but not Dr. Glass.. in fact, its almost as if he isn't 'learning' so much as 'relearning' information he once knew. The knowledge simply flows back into him like a faucet that doesn't stop. When he finally does step out of the academy again, the light stinging his eyes, his magical power has greatly grown...

Set all your known magic paths to 3.

{Crit + Academy is a powerful combo}​
 
Chepura
Turn 2
Dest Dest

Scouting into, what Chepura would later learn was known as the 'Gola Gap', the small stretch of land that connected Talirus to the southern nations, she managed to learn much for insects were everywhere and nobody minded when a fly got a bit too adventurous or a spider was where it really shouldn't be.. Numerous villages, outpost and towers guarded this stretch of land as many caravans and goods went through the Gola Gap. While the bulk of the trade tended to go over the ocean, paying the 'price' of business to Valin, many preferred to go overland, entering Caolin or Gil-Galet, or going further south to the more exotic markets of Nurbellium, Bondar and Akthubit. It was a rather wealthy, if not sparsely populated, stretch of land. It was home to many bandits and raiders who attacked in the dead of night seeking to hit lone caravans that traveled with escorts a bit too small in an effort for traders to turn just a bit more of a profit.

There is a single large 'city' that acts as the gateway in and out of Talirus, this city is called 'Matera' and acts as the lynchpin for the whole region. It has high, strong stone walls and Chepura can see banners with a strange bull on it that has 'XII' on it. Her Rexs and Reginas, people who had more knowledge of this land then her, tell her that is the flag of the 12th Legion which is currently based out of Matera. They tend to only send small cohorts out on patrols or to guard the larger towns, but by and large, the protection of the outskirts isn't their concern and is mostly left up to the towns to defend themselves. A labyrinthian maze of bureaucracy and corruption keeps the legions on a leash as most small scale conflicts simply isn't worth the expense of sending out a legion.. So long as Matera, itself, is not threatened or trade completely disrupted, it is doubtful the 12th will move..

It may be possible to attack small villages, bandit outcoves or even some border towns without provoking them, but from the sheer amount of well armored men and women, the power of their mages in training.. It is unlikely Chepura and her forces could do anything but be crushed if the 12th was truly mustered. At least for now.

Action 2

The raids and attacks on the small villages and communities on the outskirts go well. Insects are 'encouraged' into the village prior to each attack and, once Chepura enters, she summons the implanted swarm to overwhelm the citizens and disorientate them before the large wasp and various giant insects kill or capture those that the swarms could not fully incapacitate..

Scattered survivors carry tales of giant insects and wasp that flood their homes, killing, devouring or even stealing off their families.. Most of this news is ignored in Matera as the giant wasp are well known and mostly stick to picking off the occasional hamlet or cattle, hardly worth marching an entire legion to kill them, 'acceptable collateral' for the region. Price of doing business in the Gola Gap. Without aid coming from Matera, the 'largest' [which isn't particularly large' town of Castelluccio, and its Vigiles Centurion is trying to rally a Accensus [Militia] from the neighbor towns and hamlets, and survivors of the insects, to hold the town, entrench, and wait out the storm for reinforcements. With every day that passes, they become more entrenched and the militia better trained..

They seem an obvious target, but there is another..

The bandits, raiders and slavers in the area have deemed it a bit 'too unsafe' for them. They prefer things a bit predictable so they know what, when and how they can pillage safely. Many of the smaller groups have joined together, safety in numbers after all [even if each one plans to rob the other], and are preparing all their loot into a large caravan that they intend to take into another region, perhaps Gil-Galet or Akthubit to set up shop there.. Hitting that caravan could provide a large boost in equipment or wealth..

What does Chepura do? Hit the caravan, letting the town dig in, or hit the town early but allow the caravan to escape?

Decision Point
1. Ambush the Bandit Caravan
2. Attack Castelluccio
 
Last edited:
Farator: King of Aventalor
Well, that went better than he could have hoped! He has the permission he needs to pursue the throne when ready, but he isn't ready just yet. He needs to be sure he is well prepared. And other threats are showing hints of appearing. Mostly gossip, nothing he can confirm. It's time to create a proper council of young gods. In the meantime, he needs to prepare his people for what seems like a largely inevitable holy war.

Actions
Have current diplomats seek out news of other godbound, and make contact if possible.
Disseminate healing arts into the military, for better unit survivability.​
 
Gawain
Turn 2
Wew the Polymath Wew the Polymath

It was a strange thing to ask them to 'restore' a swamp that the coven already saw as perfectly fine and natural. To them, it was as if someone was complaining that the ocean just had too much water or that mountains were just a little too rocky for their taste. Complaining about the very nature of something that made it what it was. The obvious answer, to the coven, was for them to simply move to somewhere they believed to be nicer. If they desired open plains or fertile land, they should move to lands that have that rather then destroy an ecosystem so they could have that rather then go to the south and grow their grapes in land more apt to it, such as Gil-Galit. After all, the most unnatural thing in the swamp was the knights in their metal keep. It was a good thing that the coven were not a fae court, or they may have taken the request to 'restore the ecosystem' to mean the removal of the humans and very metal statues asking to destroy it for the sake of their personal convenience. The offer for 'escort' and 'protection' was met with curt refusals. The coven did not see the swamp as an adversary that they needed protection from, that, they believed, was the stem and cause of the issue of these men of the Keep. Instead of taking the swamp, this land, for what it was, living within it and understanding it, they were trying to change, break and mold it to fit their whims. Even the 'barbarians', for all they liked to pretend to be warriors of the land, saw only danger to endure, to overcome, to triumph over. The very notion of existing within it, understanding place and purpose, was foreign to them. The coven did not see the 'ecosystem' as some sort of garden to be carefully maintained by their hand, some artificial construct [perhaps that is what Gawain struggled to understand being one himself], but instead something natural and evolving on its own, left to flourish, or decay, as the cycle of nature decreed. They would do as asked, as a favor was given and a favor would be keep, but they warned that their meddling would have unforeseen consequences, and when those arouse, the coven would not fix it for them.

Over the span of a single week, Moorholm is almost unrecognizable. Much of the wetlands around the keep are drained away, leaving behind fertile black soil that can be built on or used as farmland. The great forest are thinned to allow roads to be constructed and the ground under them 'stiffened' so the ground didn't constantly fall and burry itself whenever it rained or they turned their backs on it. Many of the more poisonous and parasitic insects are removed and some of the larger, more ferocious predators are 'culled' by the coven. Their green magic spreading through the swamp as they did the work of deities until, on the seventh day, the magic left and only Moorholm remained.

.....

Moorholm Changes
Enough land has been cleared and solidified to boost the building of three things. These can be vineyards, large buildings, fortifications, mushroom plantations, whatever. Whenever you build something, you can declare you are using a 'Coven Charge' to declare you are using the land cleared and prepared for you by the coven. You, as you've probably guessed, have 3 Coven Charges.

Violent Wilds
Many predators have vanished, so competition has grown lax, because of this, the predators that remain have begun to feast like heathen kings. Wyverns, Hydras, Murkwyrms, and the like have begun to breed rapidly and have started to grow much larger in size. There are rumors, among the barbarians, that things are about to awaken in the swamp, things kept dormant by the lack of sustenance needed to keep them awake... Good news is this also means way more prey for the barbarians to hunt even if it will start to bring them into competition with these so called 'super predators'! +1 EP

Population Surge
Population of the barbarians grows by leaps and bounds as they now have more food, more room to live, less threats to their infants and elderly, and what sickness does come gets sucked from the land by the Disease Grinder [Grinder produces 2 Death Gems while in Moorholm] however, the barbarians are not the only ones to benefit. The Lizardfolk experience a population explosion. As indigenous tribes, the lizardfool had many diseases, predators and other such checks to their number and compensated with incredible clutch rates... What preyed on them, preyed on barbarians, and those are now gone.. So now there is very little to keep their numbers in check. Even worse, the larger, stronger, forms of Lizardfolk are becoming more common as they can afford to feed their larger brethren now that food has become more widespread... At this rate, it will be the Lizardfolk, not the men of the keep or their barbarian allies, that become the Lords of Moorholm as some of the smaller orc clans in the area have already been conquered by the Lizardfolk.

Building Roads
The 'roads' they build are mostly just pact down earth rather then anything truly special. It certainly isn't stone or cobblestone or anything of real note, but it serves its primary purpose of keeping visitors from wandering into the swamps and getting eaten [it was made safer thanks to the coven, but 'safer' isn't safe. 'Lost, presumed eaten by Hydra' is still a fate many suffer] and allowing for wagons and caravans to travel through it without instantly getting their wheels stuck every five seconds or tipping over due to an unforeseen murky hole. Without the Coven's aid, it is likely it would have been a doomed venture, as while yes, the statues can dig forever, the muddy ground would simply fill back up any holes they made overtime, especially if it rained [which it did often], and it would have required a truly herculean effort of a grand scale to build the necessary irrigation ditches to bleed enough liquid away to get anything resembling solid enough earth to hold shape unless they wished to make the worlds most windy road as it snaked through what areas could actually support the weight.

Still the roads are finished! But there are some issues. The first being.. Moorholm was a swamp in the ass-end of nowhere, filled with barbarian tribes and a keep of strange mage hating knights. It wasn't exactly the traders #1 choice of destination when they could instead go to one of the republics or into the very rich southlands.. It is possible to help entice traders but something would need to be done.. Perhaps if Gil-Galit were willing to subsidize and insure traders who came to Moorholm some would be willing to take the journey? [Convince Dr. Glass to spend 1 EP 'subsidizing' the trade. If he does so, he will roll a d10. If he gets a 5+, both of you get an EP {he gets back what he spent as well}. If he rolls a 4 or less, he loses that EP and you get nothing].

The other issue was the lizardfolk. Many of the traders stopped and traded with them, or bought safe passage from their tribes rather then deal with the barbarians deeper in the swamps because, simply, the lizardfolk were everywhere and had started to seek out traders of their own volition to start trading their own goods for arms, armor, food and other such goods to solidify their hold on their gains...

However, despite all that, the roads were there, and so safe trade could be established. If Moorholm gains more trade goods [perhaps start those vineyards you want], the roads will start to help turn a profit.

 
Last edited:
Harnald Hirte
Turn 2
Scatterbrain Scatterbrain

The ceremony was nothing 'fancy', especially compared to the vibrant celebrations that the Akthubiti loved to throw, but it didn't need to be, and moreover, something so grand and gaudy wouldn't have fit. Would have been a disservice to the men and women of the Oak who gave their lives. A grand service drew attention away from those who were lost and instead took focus on the event, itself. This was not about that. This wasn't about grand spectacles or monuments to ego or vanity. It was about showing respect to those who gave their lives, allowing their comrades to grieve among friends and allies, to remanence and share stories like the time Kaelin had to be carried on a stretcher for a week after being found with a farmer's daughter in their barn.. And the girl had a very large, very angry ogre for a father and how Kaelin used to swear up and down that she was much prettier when you were deep enough in the cup. The time Ehrel stood too close to the fire and they caught aflame giving birth to the legendary Sir Ehrel 'of the Flaming Pants'... So many stories of the fallen passed over drinks late into the night. And while it wouldn't happen for many years, upon the site a mighty oak tree would grow and bloom.

All Company of the Oak Units count as 'Spirited', after each battle, roll a d10, on a 6+ you keep 'Spirited'.

During the celebration, a mage approaches Harnald and ask if he could use the head of the storm demon for an experiment, if Harnald agrees, the mage will use part of the demon to make Harnald an item. [Let me know if Harnald accepts or rejects the offer]

In addition, per the company's tradition, they gain the ability to add a new unit type to their roster based on their employer..

Akthubit Inspired Options [Pick 1]
Camel Riders
Armored soldiers with long lances upon camels. These camel riders pack a solid punch but their real strength comes in being able to scare and frighten nearby horses. As such, they cause Fear to all mounted [horse mounted] units and actively debuff said house mounted units while close by.

Golden Cohort
These men and women form a dense pike block to impale anything that dares to come to them ahead, but each one wears shiny, gilded armor and has a large bronze mirrored shield that they use to reflect the light of the sun at anyone who charges them, blinding them and disorganizing their charge.

Search for the Sons of Dune
The search doesn't go as well as Harnald has hoped. They have certainly left Akthubit, at least for now, and are within Nurbellium... Harnald has managed to capture and slay a few of their contacts and fencers and reclaim some of the stolen and fenced valuables +1 EP

... If the Company of the Oak goes north, into Nurbellium, it is likely they'd be able to find the Sons of Dune. But they'd need to be careful if they decided to make such a journey. A large mercenary company, underemployment of another nation, crossing into their borders would likely be seen as an Act of War by Nurbellium.. If they wish to pursue the Sons of Dune, they will either need to do so quietly, with some form of plausible deniability or with the knowledge that what they are doing is likely to spark a war. Otherwise, there wasn't much they could do besides wait for them to return.​
 
Alcina
Spacekitty Spacekitty

The Gil-Galit Academy was rather large and quickly growing in prestigious as numerous students and teachers passed its doors, seeking or bringing with them magical knowledge from across the land. While magical academies, themselves, were not unheard of, one that simply seemed to take anyone with, comparatively, minor was unique. Alcina and Thyra undertook the sorcery studious, particularly, those about nature, life and how to manipulate it and the effects such manipulation on the environment. The classes went well, although Thyra seemed particularly bored with it all, and many of the young students seemed more interested in studying Alcina and Thyra with sneaking glances then paying any mind to the materials at hand. Still, while they may not have been looking that closely, Alcina certainly was. Thyra may not have enjoyed studying as much, but as a werewolf, nature magic came naturally to her. Perhaps, one day, she can become a Bitch Queen, which is a less flattering way to refer to a Werewolf Matriarch.

Thyra gains +2 Nature Magic

Alcina gains +1 Nature Magic and +1 Blood Magic


With some more study, Alcina may make a breakthrough in Crossbreeding, if that if something she was interested in doing.

Meanwhile, at the Legion of Doom..

[SECRET SECRET SECRET MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS]

 
Baroqee
Turn 2
Twist Twist

SECRET SECRET SECRET ONLY THE COOL KIDS GET TO KNOW SECRET SECRET SECRET

[Technically not fully done as waiting on DM responses, but putting this up so I can feel better when Lyrna throws down her status updates]

EDIT:

Establishing a stone quarry without the proper tools to really do it is difficult. Very difficult. It is managed a bit easier by the fact Centaur, especially Minotaur, are so strong and sturdy and so are able to do far more work then their weaker two legged kin. This is especially true when it comes to transportation..

But there are three major types of stone, and while they do gather them all, as best they are able, there are three primary 'types' that they are eyeing.. Which does Baroqee wish them to focus on?

Granite
The toughest of the stones. It makes incredibly sturdy buildings and fortresses, while also looking lovely, however it is very hard to gather [especially with the means they have] and so harder to actually build with.

Marble
Marble isn't particularly strong, but it is very beautiful and so is often used in elaborate buildings [such as shrines] or as the material in statues and other artwork. Marble is highly valued and would make a good trade resource.

Sandstone
Not particularly pretty, strong or valuable, but it is easy to quarry and build with. Having sandstone would give the Herde a bonus to any construction attempts [so long as it involved enough stone to count] and would allow more complex structures to be built without the same heavy investment.

Pick one of the three. You will then gain that as a resource.​
 
Last edited:
Kiyan Taric
Turn 2
Arnalia Arnalia

dominions-fan-art-generated-with-bing-image-creator-v0-rss5xxqfms4c1.jpg


Among the discussions for economic and military ideas and reforms, news reached the Warrior Queen of an incursion on her Eastern Border from Bondar... News was sporadic and almost panicked by some of the lesser members of note within the capital, but the Lion's Eye were able to gather accurate intel and separate fact from fiction, at least, as best as could be done with the information available and what they had to work with. The band wasn't large, well, no, it was, but by what they knew of Bondar, it was small. It seemed to mostly comprise of Atavi and Moatika which was a good sign, as both were the smaller monkey kin of Bondar.. No reports of Tigermen or, thank the Queen, Elephant Lords. The band was led by a large Bandar [from which the area derived its name], a massive gorilla warrior in gilded armor who had, according to rumors, tore a man in two and used the two halves to beat an elder who defied them to death. The Lions Eye are certain this is not a full scale incursion from Bondar, it is simply too small and the 'nation' of Bondar was less a nation and more a region packed full of hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of petty kingdoms, but this was still a threat as Bondar did not earn a reputation for being the graveyard of empires for nothing.
Reports say the band approaches villages and demands Gold, Blood or Steel. If the village gives them enough gold, or slaves, they take them and leave in peace.. If they take steel, they are slaughtered to a child and their flesh fed to their tigers [of which the Atavi are said to ride]. The advisers of the nation are torn on what to do. Some advise simply paying them off with gold or blood, to get them to leave so they could focus on the real threat, the Dragon Emperor, while others think Steel is the only option. If these creatures are allowed to believe their nation is easily plundered, what is to stop them from coming back and in even greater numbers? But what if they fight this band, win, and that only encourages open conflict with the jungle realm?...

The Lions Eye feel there is.... something else going on here [Roll Failed], something behind this attack, but they can't put their finger on it yet, at least, not with the scattered reports.

A dicey situation..
But what will the Negest do?

[Negative Event happened, you do not lose an action or have to use a current one to address this. So you can still keep your actions as you had them. Addressing negative events is almost always free]

The Military Drills

The relentless training is taxing, draining and brutal.. But it bears fruit, very tasty and plump fruit [Yes, I am eating an apple as I write this]. While the work is exhausting, and tiring, and Kiyan is forced to use her Elixir, she makes great strides in her goal..

Enlarging the military will likely take some sort of economic portion [there will be an option to do this as part of your second option if you go that route outside of one chance here], but she does do well in refining what she has. In fact, a few avenues appear to her and she has done so well, she can follow a few of them..

Decision Point
PICK TWO {Or double down on ONE}
1. An Amir shows incredible promise both as a warrior and a commander, with the proper guidance and investment, they could easily rise in the ranks to become a notable commander, someone Kiyan could possibly rely on to help guide the fledgling military. [Gain a Martial Hero, unlike usual, you will have the option to pick 2 of their traits]

2. The worst of the Amir and Fitawrarim are weeded out, especially the sycophants or those that are clearly here because of Nepotism. While Kiyan will get a lot of political pushback and their families tend to be wealthy, influential and have pull, doing so will put her kingdom on the path of a true meritocracy, where those who have the skills, talent and drive are the ones who advance. As such, all her martial commanders will gain higher leadership [Leadership is the stat used to keep your units from breaking, respond to ambushes, psychology effects like fear/panic, etc]

3. New Arms and Armor. Pick either 2 Basic Units or 1 Elite Unit. The Basic Units will have their gear upgraded. So, they will get heavier [or better armor if they already have, say, plate armor] and weaponry that will give them a boost in combat. This is very good as upgrading gear is usually very expensive {This bonus is gained from roll, background and your gold resource}]. If you select an Elite, instead of upgrading their armor or weapons, they will be given enchanted weaponry. I will give you a small list of options and, from now on, that unit's weapons will always count as enchanted with that buff. Very good if you intend to fight things resistant, or immune, to mundane attacks.

4. The Captive Blood Mages offer to... 'alter' some soldiers to make them better, faster, stronger.. But the price that will need to be paid in blood is not pleasant. They can also, they say, create... monstrous beings that could be unleashed upon Kiyan's foes, but they do warn that they are rather hideous creations that she may not want linked to her.

5. Kiyan forms a 'Citizen Guard', a militia focused in major cities where many of the locals are forced to undergo training, this training is 'refreshed' every third month to ensure they still remember which end of the spear is which. The Citizen Guard are not particularly deadly or skilled, but they are meat that can be placed in front of the enemy. They are armed with shields and simple spears. Whenever Kiyan wishes, she can 'muster' the Citizen Guard. In case of a large battle, you can use this to get a certain number of 'free' units [the guard] along with your actual armor. {Can think of this as free, but not great, troop to supplement your actual units}

Economic Options

The queen's order to 'make gold' does make some advisers and planners scratch their head, but they quickly see it as some sort of test. Their Queen is seeing if their worth keeping around.. Some of them even guess she has some plan in mind and is just seeing if any of them are clever enough to figure it out and be the one to put it forth! Many ideas are put forth, some much better then others, while some will likely hurt public opinion and the livelihood of many, but would provide a large, short term, boost in the kingdom's coffers..

Decision Point
Pick One
[You can always try to do the others on other turns]

1. Increase production of gold. The idea is a simple one, expand the gold mines to increase production which in turn would increase the amount they could export or give to craftsmen to transform. Actually doing it is less easy for mining is an unpleasant, hard and often dangerous job. Much of the kingdom's mining is done by small villages that have always done it, the trade passed down from parent to child [with often very short lifespans], with outsiders often moving in seeking personal wealth as miners are often allowed to keep a tiny portion as 'payment' [None of them ever actually get wealthy, but doesn't stop them from thinking so].. Increasing production could be done by trying to renovate the mines and get to new untapped veins or, much simpler and cheaper, 'nationalize' the various mines and bring in cheap slave labor to hit the mines hard with little care for lost life. Renovating would be seen as a 'good' act, but it won't bring in nearly as much EP while bringing in slaves would.. upset many, but bring in a large amount of upfront EP at the cost of human life and decency.

2. Introduce a new policy.. The Right Of Arms. When men and women hit the age of majority, they are forced to enter the military. This would increase the MP of the nation nicely as Akthubit would get a swarm of new recruits they could use to fill the ranks... While the question of 'how do they afford to train and arm them', that would be paid by the second part of the policy... Allow people to 'avoid' this by paying a fee. This would allow the wealthy and tradesmen to avoid service and allow the crown to gain coin for 'support' which could be used to increase the wealth of the nation especially since the soldiers gained could be put to work in construction and other task to help take the burden off the crown.. This would be a wildly unpopular policy with... everyone. The wealthy would see it as yet another tax levied on them while the poor would see it for what it is, a purposeful means to get them to spill blood while the wealthy pay in gold. Patriotism helps a lot, but the.. obvious disparity in this would rankle many feathers.

3. ... Ask for a loan... It is.. a very undesirable option, but the nation could seek a loan from another nation. The most likely option would be Valin, the Caliph or the Republic. The loans would come with strings attached, Valin would likely expect to be paid back and with interest. The Caliph would almost certainly expect a favor in return and the Republic.. Well, it was hard to read their motives at the best of times given its nature as a Republic. Still, it would be a very easy option to raise a lot of EP, and quickly, but who knows what the real cost could be..

4. Send out surveyors.. It is a gamble to see what they will find, and if what they find is of value, but the Lion's Eye would help as best they could. It could pay off big, it could come to nothing, it could even cost the nation. Did the Queen wish to gamble it?​
 
Nomolos of Kozan
Turn 2
Crocodile Crocodile

Work on creating a terracotta army goes well, at least, on the production front. The ancient dwarf hold had many old forges and devices that greatly aided with the construction, and with the learned men around, getting the technique down wasn't as large an issue. Manpower was an issue, but that slowly got solved as they made them. It seemed with some close direction, they could use the basic terracotta soldiers to make more terracotta soldiers, a most efficient scheme. The only hold ups were means of controlling them and, of course, raw material. A large standing force of Terracotta Soldiers is constructed and 'stored' in the bowels of Kozan, Nomolos also inscribes much of the fortress with runes that would allow even the handful of mages present to direct the entire force... so long as they remained within Kozan..

The Terracotta Guard
Thanks to the large scale production, and the very intricate runework done by Nomolos, if Kozan is ever under direct assault, 2 Military Power worth of terracotta will be added to the defending force. These terracotta are 'free' and will not need mage leadership [as the rune network guides them, although if it were disturbed or broken, the terracotta would cease just like they would if their mage leader was slain]. While this doesn't help as much as he may have wanted in an offensive war, such as facing the Dragon Emperor's armies in the south, it would provide some level of security to Kozan, itself, should it find itself under attack.

Terracotta soldiers and runes may prove to be an interesting combination if looked into... What other constructs could be made and inscribed with the runic arts? Certainly is food for thought..

No new information or secrets from Kozan's libraries make themselves known this season, but the hunt for knowledge was ever going and never ending.

Recruitment
Getting people to live in Kozan proved to be a challenge.. Not only where they fairly far on the 'edge of the world' as far as everyone was concerned, Kozan was seen as a secluded place for mages, learning and study, not a 'real' city to be lived at. The effort to draw in more 'common' folk to serve as staff or soldiers does not go well and Kozan sees no real change on that front. The hunt for mages goes slightly better, but even then, most of the mages that come seem to only intend to stay long enough to learn what they desire before they leave to go fulfill their own desires.. A frustrating deadend, but at least, some small progress is made in expanding the magical aresenal of Kozan [if not the number of mages].

Select 1 Sorcery [Nature, Astral, Death or Blood] and unlock that for your Keepers
 
Farator
Turn 2
Eliasdagood Eliasdagood


The diplomats do not find much, which makes sense. They tend to go to courts and places of higher standing, places where Godbound are likely to hide their abilities for one reason or another.. But scouts and spies learn much more. Whispers in taverns, rumors.. Godbound are appearing more and more lately. A gnome creating wonders in the mountains, a massive ogre that is said to possess foresight, a bandit with the ability to seemingly clone himself and appear in all sorts of places.. It was strange. It was as if something had triggered a transformation in the world, a world where anything was now possible, a great void in reality that the sparks were trying to fill. Wonderous possibilities... but there was that whisper, what if this wasn't wonderous possibilities but instead dreadful calamity? All these people with divine power and no oversight, no control, no direction but their own ambition. What would this world look like in a few months when the godbound began to join together or fight?..

In better news, Farator heard of a man with wonderous abilities in a coastal town on the Caliph, not far from where he was.. The scouts he sent have all disappeared, perhaps he should go himself? [Scene if Farator wishes to go and meet this figure].

Training

The Ki Healing Arts goes.. questionably. Many simple don't have the inner strength, the Ki, to make use of it.. But there is some progress as some of the stronger, more disciplined, people in his nations are capable of making use of it..

All Martial Commanders gain Ki Healing, you may pick ONE elite unit and they also gain this ability.

 

Lady of Maelúir Síocháin❜
turn 2: summer
W
ith a delicate touch, the Lady of Maelúir Síocháin plucked a vibrant leaf from a tree branch, twirling it between her fingertips while she inspected its intricate veins. Seeking solace in nature, the fae furrowed her brow, yearning to immerse herself in the symphony of chirping birds and rustling foliage surrounding her. Yet, a soft sigh escaped her lips as the leaf slipped from her grasp, drifting gracefully toward the earth. Frustration flickered across her features before she gently pressed a palm against the rough texture of the tree bark.

The sun's relentless rays bore down upon her, its heat searing against her once cooled skin. Closing her eyes, she couldn't help but recall the haunting memories that resurfaced whenever she sought refuge in silence. The weight of failure lingered within her, a reminder of the anguish that had unfolded during her attempt to save Humphrey. The breath of death and the violence she had endured still resonated within her, causing her frame to tremble with the echoes of past trauma. Faes seldom pondered mortality or the tragedies that might befall them, yet she stood as testament to their existence, lurking in the shadows of their world. Fear, she realized, had become her undoing.

If not for Golfrax and the second chance bestowed upon her by the blessings of the Feywilds, Siofra knew she would have perished, vanishing without a trace. What fate would have befallen her hobbits, the beastkins, or the Faes in her absence? Dark and troubling thoughts invaded her mind, causing a tumultuous storm within her. Siofra suffered silently, bearing the weight of these harrowing possibilities, tormenting herself with the imagined consequences of her potential demise.

Nevertheless, she knew she had to maintain her composure. Humphrey had been saved, and he lived. She had returned, but had she truly? Siofra sensed that a fragment of herself had perished in the ordeal, and this second lease on life proved to be a tumultuous journey. This second chance at life was proving tumultuous, entwined with pride and the bitter taste of naivety. The debt owed to the small yet mighty dragon she summoned weighed heavily on her conscience.

Amidst her contemplation, Golfrax’s incessant whines and barking orders to the Hobbits echoed nearby, sharply contrasting the solemnity of her thoughts. A flicker of determination ignited within her—an unyielding resolve to prove her resilience.

Siofra stepped away from the tree, beginning her journey toward Golfrax and the Hobbits. Her once silver hair now transformed to a fiery red, swaying gracefully with each purposeful step she took. Within her, a flicker of fire kindled—a palpable surge of desire and passion for success. Yet, underlying these emotions simmered a deep-seated anger, fueling her determination. The feeling of being weighted down, unable to move, fueled her resolve to break free and conquer the challenges ahead.

OOC: I had a mind to write more but, with GM approval, I'll post this fluff for now since life is a bit busy at the moment​
dbeqdnc-30646a09-711b-4d81-8704-8e7cd90fe0cf.png
Action 1: Siofra will be training with Isadari and studying magic. If all goes well, she will be trading the elven statue.
Action 2: Build a training ground for her beastkins such as the Leonars and Grimtoof the Orc
 
Siofra
Turn 2
deer deer

The forest was beautiful in summer, the land was in bloom, the hobbits were constantly bragging about who had the best gardens and farms, who would grow the largest pumpkin this year and why it would be Ruothild Fairfoot.. Because it was always Ruothild Fairfoot. She had a way of just speaking to the pumpkins that made them spring up strong, sturdy and with the biggest, must curvaceous, pumpkins this side of Talirus. It was enough to make a piemaker blush and a pumpkin enthusiast sigh. Yes, it was truly a wonderful season, and unlike much of the world, it never got too hot. Nor did it ever get too cold, truly, the home of the hobbits was perfect. It was lucky then that their lush, beautiful home was protected by the great forest, shielded from the outside world that would see them harm, that would want to take what was theirs without giving the same love and appreciation to it..

Siofra may have felt down about her fight with the dreaded medusa, felt something was missing, but to Humphreys mother, there could have been no greater gift. She may have lost a piece of her, but in doing so, she preserved a life and a light in this world. But only she could decide if the cost had been worth it.. A certain dragon would balk at the very idea that anything was worth even the tiniest iota of one such as he.

Life was calm, peaceful.. beautiful, but would it always be so? What else lurked out there, beyond the trees, waiting to come in? Siofra may be 'safe' in the First World [as safe as anyone could be], but could she live knowing what could happen to her friends?

Actions
1. The dark elf, Isadari, is... not the kindest women. She is cold, aloof and more then a little rude, but she has an incredible talent for magic, so much so that it is a wonder she could ever have been trapped in the first place. Golfrax initially wanted to sit in on the lessons, but after a single hour [where Isadari dared to question his towering intellect], he stormed off as her elf magic was 'beneath' his draconic knowledge..

Fire, Water and Earth increase by 1

2. The training ground.. doesn't end well, it ends up just being a large clearing of grass [that gets trampled on to the point it becomes dirt and mud] where the beastkin spar and wrestle.. And get beaten up by Grimtoof. Rather then learn new tricks or interesting tactics... From Grimtoof they learn that RAGE solves most issues. That if one is made enough, and hits something hard enough, it'll probably stop being a problem..

All Beastkin gain Berserker [2]
 
Turn 3 - Amon
In the heart of the tumultuous First City, where chaos had its own rhythm, an old granny decided to make her mark. Granny Eleanor, with a twinkle in her eye and flour on her apron, opened a bakeshop that soon became the talk of the city. Little did she know, her quaint bakeshop was about to become the hub for some unexpected customers.

Granny Eleanor's bakeshop, nestled between alleyways frequented by cutpurses and dimly lit by the flickering neon of dubious establishments, was an oasis of warmth and the aroma of freshly baked bread. It didn't take long for her legendary loaves to capture the hearts (and stomachs) of the locals.

Surprisingly, Granny Eleanor loved her life in the bustling city. She'd hum a merry tune as she kneaded dough and regaled anyone who'd listen with tales of her secret ingredient – a dash of love. The fact that some of her customers get stabbed and robbed 20 steps away from her bakeshop? She's not aware of that! She's too busy kneading bread.

Unbeknownst to her, her little bakeshop quickly turned into a favorite by the nefarious groups of the First City. Criminal lords, blood mages, drug magnates, and even notorious slavers, all queued up for her delectable bread, blissfully unaware that the lady behind the counter was happily living in her own little flour-covered bubble.

Enter the unsuspecting spies, dispatched by various nations to uncover the mysteries of Granny Eleanor's bread empire. They staked out her bakeshop, jaws dropping in disbelief as one notorious character after another stepped out, baguette in hand.

Spy A exclaimed in shock, "Is that Blackbeard buying bread?! He's the notorious slaver, wanted all over the world with a bounty of 250,000 gold coins!"

Spy B, equally stunned, pointed, "And that's Suah the Abominable! He released a massive abomination in one of the cities in Talirus in the past and destroyed the entire city! Its entire population got massacred."

The spies scratched their heads, frantically checking their intel. How could Granny Eleanor, an unassuming old lady with flour in her hair, have all these dangerous and scary characters as her patrons?

Any attempt to investigate Granny Eleanor led to the same mundane result – she was just Granny Eleanor, the lady who made really good bread. Those who dared to cross a line, intending to unveil the mystery, found themselves facing swift, peculiar, and unfortunate fates. Some got handed kidnapped by blood mages, some got ganged up by one of the local mobs, some completely forgetting their life as if their memory was stolen, and some peculiarly got turned into animals.

And so, Granny Eleanor's bakeshop remained the sweetest secret in the First City, a place where notorious figures could munch on croissants and swap stories of daring heists, all under the oblivious nose of the city's most beloved baker.

---

"Granny Eleanor!!!" Amon exclaimed as she enters the bakeshop. Granny Eleanor looked at him with a sweet smile, "Amon! It's great that you've come to visit! I just made fresh croissants. Come! Have a taste. Did you bring that sweet boy Sullivan with you?"

From behind Amon, Sullivan appeared and waved at Granny Eleanor, "H-hello G-granny."

"Sullivan, my dear! Nice to meet you. What's wrong, are you feeling a little sick?" Granny Eleanor asked in concern as she noticed the young blood mage heavily sweating and his breathing irregular.

'A little sick!? Old lady! My soul is about to leave my body. Who the hell do you have in your little bakeshop?!?!' Sullivan exclaimed in his heart. He looked to the left, he saw one of the biggest Drug Lords in the First City casually talking to one of the most notorious blood mages. He looked to the right, he saw an infamous slaver who has captured thousands of innocent young virgins to be used as blood slaves for Blood Mages laughing at a joke made by one of the most wanted serial killer in the world.

Amon chuckled, "He's okay, Granny! He's about to do a big magical experiment later so he's pretty nervous."

"Oh-ho, that's okay, dearie, just have a deep breath. Why don't the two of you take a seat and I'll get you some bread and tea in a moment?" Granny Eleanor gestured to an empty table next to the slaver-serial killer duo. Amon nodded and Sullivan felt like his world is spinning as he reluctantly follows Amon to sit down.

"Yo, what's up Thorne. You're quite relaxed, you hit your monthly quota?" Amon casually greeted the infamous slaver. The slaver looked at him, confused who the hell is this guy when Amon waved his hands and Thorne immediately had a moment of realization as his memory was returned to him.

"Ohh, A-amon, nice to meet you... Yes, I-I did." Thorne responds nervously to which Adam nodded. He waved his hands again and Thorne's face immediately went blank. Erebos, the serial killer sitting across Thorne looked at them nervously. Meanwhile Sullivan looked in shock, his mouth wide agape. This infamous slaver is actually nervous when talking to Amon?

"You should close your mouth before a bug flies in." Granny Eleanor chuckled as she approached pushing a cart with their food and drinks. She laid out their bread in the table and poured them tea. "I hope you boys enjoy."

"Thank you, Granny!" Amon and Sullivan replied with a smile in their face. Sullivan's earlier nervousness disappeared as he looked at the delicious bread. The duo immediately dug into it and enjoyed the very tasty bread of Granny Eleanor.

Order 1: The Ravens Soar High
[Order Details Redacted]

Order 2: The Bloodied Midnight's Maw, "The Crescent Moon"
[Order Details Redacted]

Additional Roll:
Kozan Partnership
Raven Intel
 
Last edited:
Gofrit - Turn 3

Is there something you give?
That you will never receive in return?
Do you know what it is?
Do you wish that you loved me?

Are you trying to live?
Like everything is a lesson to learn?
Can you ever forgive yourself?
Do you wish that you loved me?

My reflection just won't smile back at me like I know it should.
I would turn into a stranger in an instant if I could.
There is something eating me alive I don't know what it is.
Maybe not that you conceal your feelings they just don't exist.

Do you ever believe we can turn into different people?
It's getting harder to be myself.
Do you wish that you loved me?

Could we ever release?
Is it better to just not feel?
Can we hit delete?
Do wish that you loved me?

And it's been so long that I'm forgetting what it feels like.
But I'd rather not remind myself and leave it all behind.
And I try so hard to fix it all but nothing seems to help
But I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself.

Do you wished that you loved me?


In the village center, Gofrit stood with his spear at hand. He was accompanied with Amage and his Angels of the Host as Gofrit wore a giant beaver pelt as a makeshift cape. Today was a special day as Gofrit finally felt like a weight had come off his shoulders. His previous attempts at improving Ditmarsh was met with puzzling failure, yet as he recently discovered... there was an insidious plot just under his own two feet. Sabotage! By the very own animals he sought to seek aid from. Well, said traitors had been fittingly dealt with as Ditmarsh had been inundated with beaver fur. It was a shame that winter never really bothered people too much in the swamps, but no man, woman, or child had to be worried about being cold now. Gofrit greeted the people as he walked by with a skip in his step as he truly believed that this time things would work out.

Now, there was still the concern of the Eater of Worlds threatening to break loose right in his backyard. However, to Gofrit, that was a problem for later. Perhaps, even someone else's problem to deal with. He had done his part by informing the book people of the problem and he wasn't privy to a supply of astral pearls. No reason for him to worry about something he had no control over for now. Indeed, today he only had two things in mind. Well, maybe three if he included that other thing, but he was no philosopher and didn't want to argue the details and semantics of it. Besides, Gofrit was rather confident that the other thing was something he was enjoying after all, and what was more important in life than to be happy and to enjoy it?

Gofrit and his entourage approached his manor. "You may leave us, Amage. Rest well for we have much to do in the coming days." Gofrit solemnly spoke. Silently, the doors opened and Gofrit trotted into the building with heavy, burdensome steps followed by his restless guardians. The dimly lit manor filled with light as Gofrit's spear lit the passages and empty rooms for the briefest moment before Gofrit walked deeper into the manor. Gofrit approached a nondescript door in the middle of the manor, the door to the cellar. Yet, next to the cellar door hung a simple mirror on the wall. Without a sound, Gofrit approached the mirror and gazed upon it for a brief moment; suddenly, Gofrit swept at the mirror with his spear and sent divine, sparkling fragments flying through the air as the mirror shattered.

Silence filled the halls of the manor once more...


N̵͉͇̏͊o̶̟͐ ̷̖̮̈̋a̴̞̗̕m̷͇̭͆̾o̶͉͛̌u̸̖͖͗n̶̺̓̕t̶͐ͅ ̴̖̖̓ǫ̶̐̆f̸̲́̾ ̷̯̓ṣ̸̪̈́̔e̸͎̭͂́l̷̖͕̀̓f̸̧̭̓-̴̥̓s̶̭̼̈́ò̷͇͆ŭ̶̯̻ǧ̸̺̒h̴̹͆̐t̶̟̝̎ ̴̗̪̍f̶̱̝̒ȗ̵̳̼͒r̷͇͠y̶̜͈̐̽.̴͎̚
̷̥̣̃͂
̸͉͖͘̚Ẇ̶̳ḯ̷̺̗l̶̪͔̅l̵̺̘̂ ̷̱̜͋b̷̢͑r̵̻͓̍͝i̷̡̩̋n̶͇͖͐̉g̷̟̔̂ ̸̖̽̈́b̷͈̊͂á̸̼̦ĉ̸͇k̴̫̗̽̈ ̷͕͝t̶̤̠̆ȟ̴̘͇ę̷͍̀ ̷̏͜ğ̴͜l̵̯̃o̴̖͆̈́ͅṙ̷̡̈́y̵̖͋͜ ̷̖̀̃ò̵͕f̸͙̍ ̴̭́͋i̶͙͑̽n̸̥̾̒n̵̡̲͊o̸̘̘̓c̵̞̱̔́e̸̯̐͊͜n̵͓̉̆c̸̲̉e̶͙͚̽.̶̣͇͂͂ ̷̡̄̍



"Do not lecture me while gazing at me with those judging, firey eyes. I am a winged insect bound to a funeral pyre. You come as a blade, a sacred guardian. I am to keep you sharp and test my worth in blood." Gofrit spat with sulfur in his breath. "I do not want your pity. Not from one who was sent from Eden at the whim and wrath of HIM. When we were made it was no accident; We were tangled up like branches in a flood. Then HE held my body, my flesh, and my bones. HE took the skies above and the Earth below. HE turned me into a waking hell and now the gods finally grow tired and have returned to me what is mine. Am I wrong to want to see the other side? To have a taste of the divine? So unless you can show me that which I can not see, even if it hurts me, even if I can't sleep, then stay silent and act out your holy duty to be constantly awake."

Silence filled the halls of the manor once more...

Gofrit fell to his knees before the Angels.

"Tell me. Are you in pain like I am? Will we remain stuck in the throat of gods? Will the pain stop if we go deeper?" Gofrit softly asked.

...

"I want to go where nobody else will ever go. So let's get swallowed whole."
With no more words hanging from his lips, Gofrit stood up once more. He opened the plain looking door and stared down the into the dimly lit darkness. With only the mocking, blinding light of the Spear, Gofrit descended into the engulfing darkness.

---

Order 1: With the perfidious beavers now dealt with and unable to sabotage Gofrit's efforts, Gofrit once again attempts to use his magic to help turn the marshes of Ditmarsh into a more friendly environment with his new magical abilities and perhaps assistance from his Angels. After the recent infrastructure project, it becomes more apparent to Gofrit that he cannot fight against nature, but to work with it to enable it to provide and be bountiful with all its natural beauty and grace. Thus, Gofrit and Amage begin to use their respective abilities in nature and astral magic to cause certain helpful native plants and animals (bio-diverse selection of edible and or helpful plants that are bio-fumigants that naturally repel pests, sturdy trees fit for use in construction and have deep roots capable of directing water/retaining water in the soil, animals that are crucial to the health of the ecosystem and etc.) to prosper to encourage and turn the hostile swamps of Ditmarsh into a more hospitable area for both its peoples and animals.

Spells that might be useful: Tune of Growth, Summon Animals, Herd of Buffaloes, Reinvigoration, Blood Fecundity, Necklace of Primal Form to turn into various Animals to attract and speak with, Summon Okami, Rhapsody of Life

Bonus Action: Amage is to use her sigils perk on herself to give herself a tattoo of her own choosing.

Sigils - The Sarmatians are fond of magical tattoos that can be 'awoken' to grant a bonus to a unit. Amagê knows how to do so but she will only do so to people she believes are worthy. As part of a crafting/magic action, you can request Amagê to tattoo any Worthy or Heroic units you have [including herself or Gofrit] to give them a perk or ability.

Order 2: Secret (To be DMed to GM)

Free Action: Explore the Vanir Ruins of Ditmarsh

Additional Rolls:

Refuge of the Unwanted: Every turn, there will be a roll to see who joins the nation of castoffs. Sometimes, it will be nothing important, lepers, mutants, or some of the more undesirable creatures like Bullywugs or Slinks, hardly worth noting down, other times it will be extremely dangerous people and creatures that could prove a boon or a curse upon Ditmarsh while, very rarely, someone or something truly wonderous may show up.
 
Last edited:
Thrassax
Turn 3
CaptainSully CaptainSully

Thrassax had laid low, well, relatively speaking, as some of the hybrids he attempted to create were still out there... somewhere, and perhaps that should have been worrying, but he had more grand ambitions. Chaos, pure unbridled chaos. Perhaps he was moving too soon, too quickly, but the void and its creatures were not known for their strong sanity.. Thrassax and his Illithids, from within their sewers, reached out with their minds to those they had touched and infected before and beckoned them to come to the sewers, to finish the transformation.. Dozens heeded the call and their numbers started to explode, but so great was the exodus that it quickly became noticed by the various Wave Priestess, and Princess in charge, of the investigation.. Thrassax and his fellows had been discovered..

But Thrassax did not plan on laying low, instead, a plan to launch a mass attack on the city, to hit the various guard barracks around the city at the dead of night to try and overwhelm the guards, kill as many as they could, infect many more and burn what they can to the ground before slipping away... But instead of coming to a sleepy barracks, with Valin on alert after Thrassax's discovery, instead forces of Illithids, and some enslaved thralls, met Valin Guard and Wave Priestess all throughout the city. The sounds of battle rose.. But Thrassax still had some elements and perks to call upon.. What did he pick:

Decision Point
1. Set fires around the city to try and cause as much damage as possible
2. Intercept the messengers that were trying to enter the sea to stop reinforcements from the Ryu from arriving
3. Raid an armory so the thralls have some level of equipment

Either way, small parties of Illithids and thralls will be fighting priestess and guards throughout the city.. Hopefully Thrassax planned well, and preforms well, or his ambition will truly die this time.

Action 2
Secret​
 
Throne of Heaven

Turn 3
Inziim


Inziim read the reports and gave a large sigh as he lightly pet one of the many cats that like to roam the castle halls. Even though physically, he felt nothing, it still had a calming effect on him when dealing with matters such as these.

A new drug within his lands. He had no idea how this managed to get smuggled in and while under normal circumstances, he might try to track down the source, he had other much more pressing issues to deal with.

Instead, an idea had bubbled up within him. If he couldn’t spare the resources to try to stomp out something that was allowing the undead to feel the best of mortality, he would instead provide a safe space to do so under controlled circumstances and make sure that any ingestion of the drug outside these safe and controlled spaces would be dealt with harshly.

Fines and imprisonment should be enough to encourage any use of this ugly drug in spaces where they can limit the damage they do to themselves and others.

This way, the drug can be controlled, and those that wish to be weaned off of it can also do so safely.

He was sure that this strange and magical drug must have come from The First City, though to what end, he did not know.

What he did know was that this was the best way to deal with it as just trying to stamp it out completely will just make the criminal elements just that much more difficult to eliminate.

A task force would be created to help assist with this endeavor. And Inziim knew just the Wight to do so. A man known as Marty Malone, a hard boiled skeleton that would always get his man or woman. He was “retired”, but the Lich knew that this would draw him back out into the light.

The Lich Lord ran a Clean Ship and would like to try to keep it that way……

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

The Giant’s Corpse lay on the table before him. All that was left of the creature that had killed many of his troops. He was just one of many. But perhaps now he could use that strength to bolster his own and help protect his people.

The people of The Shielded Kingdom of Ysrendelle. They were his responsibility and he would keep them safe. Safe and sound from the dangers that lurked from without.

The Lich placed his hands behind his back as he looked over the Giant.

“You could possibly be the First of many new Heavy Defenders that can protect my people.

In life, you were a Terror to behold. But in Death, you shall be a Defender of those that you terrified in life.

Quite poetic if you ask me. And something that the Gods would smile upon to see the irony. But we shall see if my actions will come to fruition.”

Inziim soon enough got to work. It would be a Long Night if he was to manage to succeed. But his time was worth it.
—------------------------------------------------------------




Action1. Use the Giant’s Corpse to Create A Bone Golem

Action 2: Provide a Shelter to safely house those who ingest Crimson Salts in a safe and controlled environment. Crack down hard on those who will take the drug outside of these Crimson Salt Shelters. Fines and Imprisonment. Create a Task Force to enforce this.
 
1703165276280.png
Ryx Oryon - The Oryon Word - Turn 3
Money Isn't Enough “You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia


  • 1703166917415.png
    1703167837415.png
    1703457142327.png
    1703563429582.png
    1703774132044.png
    [Post Theme] - [Abandoned Warehouse]

    1703169310460.png

    Dusk. Just as many entered their beds and whisked into sleep, others rise to move. Darkness is useful, concealing and obscuring information. As the bugs buzz to life, feeding and mating in the respite from birds. An abandoned structure covered in leaves, shattered glass, and dirt laid monument to a recent bygone era. The still and quiet amongst the expansive brush and redwoods shatters as a party of twelve figures descend from the shadows and leaves of the redwood canopy. Wisps of shadows leave their feet as they safely land unharmed onto the ground. They spread over the building, leaving no stone unturned before the center of attention amongst the squad lowered his hood. At the door, Kaladin held up his hand. His cloak faded into nothing, revealing its nature as ethereal shadow. A leather jacket, t-shirt, and dark grieves appeared, a sign of alienness in this world. Modern clothing, a sign of the Word. As Ryx's culture imparted onto the children. And they endeavored to replicate it. Kaladin sighed, turning the knob into the warehouse. The others stand firm, hiding behind trees with their heads moving often. Their daggers, bows, and shadowed hands ready for threats. Eerily quiet as the area surrounding a destitute warehouse would. Broken support beams, cracked foundations, cobwebs; completely abandoned and unstable as it would lend itself. Though, not everything is as it seems.

    Time tickled down as his feet entered the warehouse. A drop off point for the Redwood Traders and in it laid various goods. Legal and illegal in most places of the world. It would not be long before they arrived. And it would be best to leave before they learn anything more than what they knew. Kaladin passed through the rubble and debris, entering into the second room. There a shadow lingers, gazing at an apple. Kaladin eases, his muscles relax.

    "Father, I sense you have an interesting plan."

    "As the summer rain quenches the ground. We need only place the shadows precisely. A simple thing to do." Kaladin approached the shadow, making a hug.
    [A town in Flaustan] - [The Whistle]

    1703445045975.png
    1703465791268.png

    Silent, dark cobblestone streets with not a soul in sight. Ghost towns springing to existence as the townsfolk shelter in their homes, trembling in the shadow's encroaching advance. In a submissive population such as Flaustan, it takes little for them to cower in their homes. A whistle echoes throughout the streets, the homes as a young, blonde teen walks through. Without a care. Without a thought for the crackdowns Flaustan are known for. Criminals have been driven or killed from the nameless town. And why deal with something that augments Kornith's control? Thus, the teen meanders the streets, searching or looking. His eyes wandering, checking houses and buildings. A small town, not seemingly important. Few goods travel, few soldiers train, few of anything happens here. But, just that. A fallacy. Ill consideration. For potential is not within its current state, but what it could be. So, as the teen whistles through the streets, a cloaked figure land from above, lowering his hood. His face concealed by a veil of shadow. His hands wielding balls of shadow. The whistling boy meanders until his stops at a house. A rustle in the trees, then a group of men exited the house. A ringleader in leather armor and a fur coat. Five men behind him. Holding lanterns.

    "The devil are you? Shut it kid or I'll gut you!" The ringleader crossed his arms, wielding a façade of bravery. The others trembled.

    "Boss, didn't this kid get gutted last week by the Lily gang?"

    "No, clearly he had a twin. Nothing of that walks amongst us!" The ringleader unsheathed his sword. Beads of sweat forming down his forehead, his hands sweaty. The teen continued his whistle as they clamored over themselves. Shoving one another as they weakly attempted to find a solution to this teen's presence. On the roof, the figure silently looks over them from the roof. His hands slowly forming blades of shadow, sharp and ineffable.

    The Whistle, the teen, giggles before he a whimsical twirl flows through his body, "And yet, you do not understand. Nor does it matter." A series of men form from shadows, becoming like mirrors to the ringleader's minions. Their expressions stoic and plain. "The Shadow seeks your demise. This place, Haddonfield, will serve the Shadow's interests. So, it is written, so it shall be." The Whistle stepped back as the reflections of the goons approach. The Ringleader held up his sword.

    "So, your shadow not strong enough to show me too?"

    Whistle giggled, "No, you are rather... undesirable." The ringleader raises his sword, then blood flies through the air as a spear, a sword of shadow pierces through his heart as the figure leaps down with the blade piercing through the shoulder. A backflip leap with a surgical plunge into the ringleader. The tackle sends the ringleader to the ground and with another blade to the head. He is dispatched.

    In the gasping horror, the reflections, the copies seize the minion's breathless moments. And soon, they too fall in pools of their own blood. Their bodies wisping away, fortifying the reflections. Once the bodies, the blood has be dispersed. Whistle waves his hand.

    "Go, into the shadows. The Shadow shall assign you to your next task. So it is written, so it shall be."

    They repeat, "So it is written, so it shall be." They run out of town into the forest and in short time, silence returns to just a whistle. Whistle steps up the stairs, pushing the corpse of the ringleader aside. His hand tenderly presses on the door. Giving a creak, a wail as it opens. Musky air, of rotten wood and terrible hygiene habits. The figure follows behind Whistle. Their shadowed face scanning the building. Whistle sits down on a chair in the main room, calmly waiting. Closing his eyes in an eerie serene calm. The figure kicks down a door, leading to a room filled with tied up teens and young adults. No-Marks. Bound, gagged, naked; some of the scratch marks and dried blood around their waists and tender areas reveal a mystery rather not solved. Sex trafficking, through and through. The figure clenches his fist, relaxing softly as he kneels down, shaking them. They all scream into the cloths digging into their mouths. Their skin dry and rough. Their eyes widened to him, desperately trying to move away. Then, as the figure waited patiently, they calmed down. Confused and curious. The figure's shadow cover faded, letting his face be known.

    "Calm down, I am not here to hurt you. Your captors are dead." Mavysk kneeled down and untied each one. He held his finger to his mouth. Eventually, he came to one last one. The oldest of the group. Near Kaladin's age. Mavysk could tell by his youthful skin with a fine beginning of a beard. His skin of a darker, olive tone. Eyebrows raised, mostly on how he got into Flaustan, but Mavysk cared not. Those questions could be answered by the Shadow. He released him from the bounds and he sat up, looking with weary eyes at Mavysk. They stare for some time, simply looking at one another. Then, Mavysk broke the silence, "How are you here? Not easily does one enter into these forests."

    "Not my choice. First City..." Mavysk held up his hand as the man spoke. Then, a skiff of shadow exited his hand.

    "That is enough. Name?"

    He coughed, his arms and legs failing, crashing him to the ground, "Zaiden. It's Zaiden." Shuffling on the ground, his feet constantly slip as his muscles contract and flutter to failure. Zaiden panted, desperately trying to stand. Panting, with a hacking sound. Dry mouth.

    1703485971532.png

    Various other figures marched through the building. They kneeled down, one passed Mavysk a skin of water which Mavysk swiftly offered to Zaiden. "Water?" Zaiden reached immediately, but Mavysk placed his hand on his chest. "You have lost almost all of your strength. Let me." His hand shifts to underneath Zaiden's back supporting him. Slowly, Mavysk waterfalls water into Zaiden's mouth. Gulping... sighing, letting each drop flow through his throat. Mavysk relented, and Zaiden breathed, huffing as his whole body oscillated. Zaiden let out a cry of relief, pressing himself against Mavysk. Mavysk held Zaiden's head in his elbow, slowly lowering onto his chest. Fingers ruffling through hair. Zaiden began to sob, whining in pain, yelping in fear.

    "I don't trust you. Who the fuck are you?" Yet, despite his words, Zaiden leaned into Mavysk. His muscles tired but tense. His eyes glaring, yet his head leaning on Mavysk's breast.

    Mavysk softly held him, not saying a word. Simply reassuring him with a warm embrace, slow movements, and a loaf of bread. A piece broken in a satisfying crunch, lowered to Zaiden's mouth. Without a sound, Zaiden's body leaned up, an arm pressing his shoulders. Zaiden's eyes dart across the room and a flood of panic rushes like an orchestra through a crescendo. They were alone.

    "What happened to the others?"

    Mavysk checked his finger, noticing the dirt, grime, and musk of Zaiden's now curled section of hair, "They are okay." A coat floated over Zaiden's shoulders. His arms tugged into the sleeves. "Pants?" Zaiden's eyebrows narrowed and the duo stared at one another for almost ten minutes. Utter silence with only gentle rubs of Zaiden's hair. Then, a sigh and pants covered the marred and bare skin. As if he weighed nothing, Zaiden found himself across Mavysk's arms, under the knees and shoulders. His eyes gazing briefly at the roof of the building before the starry sky and leaves surround his vision. Zaiden rolled his head to look over Mavysk, his face hidden under shadow once more. Wisps of shadow slowly envelope Zaiden and he loses vision of everything. Minutes, hours, days? Nothing too long, but Zaiden couldn't tell. His eyes slamming shut, his will struggling to stretch them open again. All his ears hear is a beating heart in the silence. A warmth of another. And the feeling of going up.
 
Last edited:
Han Liuyang, TURN 3
There are the speeches, the public healings, the work of calming a people panicked and wary after the violence that gripped the city.

And there was also the quiet work.

Han has shed his silk for simple laborers' clothing- his radiant aura of divinity dampened to nothing. And, along with hundreds of others across the city, he is scouring through the wreckage of a building. Working with one of the many teams of salvagers.

It's a strange thing, how none recognize him like this. Remove the well-groomed hair, slather your face in soot, place bags underneath your eyes from sleepless nights- Don clothes anew, and suddenly Han is unrecognizable.

They go through buildings, digging corpses out of the wreckage of the collapsed, demolishing compromised structures. And occasionally, they even find the living wounded- unconscious and bloody, teetering on the brink of life and death.

And every time, Han surreptitiously places his hands over them, and circulates his Ki- and they live.

And then the crew moves on to the next ruin.

There was always more to do.



Action 1: Use the resources of the Library to search for a lost temple or other forgotten training ground of note in the region, and train Ki arts/martial arts within utilizing any lore or other things they find there, along with some of the more promising junior monks.

Action 2: Begin work on reassuring the populace of the Silver City, and rebuild after the riots- Building up Hospitals to take care of the injured and have better facilities for handling illnesses and battlefield injuries afterward,, as well as having Han make public appearances and funding rebuilding efforts. Use Akthubiyet Gold to help fund these efforts.

Free Action: Develop armor-piercing weaponry for the Guards of the Silver City, utilizing the dormant Jade Warriors within the Tiger Lord's tomb as testing targets to develop weapons that will effectively deal with such foes... as well as, secretly, the coming threat of the Knights.
 
Nomolos of Kozan
Turn 03

Prices Paid

1103 M - Janto 20th - Common Year
Year 0 - Octos 20th - Godfall

Life has a way of humbling even those who feel the taste of power. The Sovereign was humbled by Darkness that I cannot begin to fathom. I was humbled for daring to look upon their face even in just vision. My eyes were taken as the terrible price for my own hubris, my own insatiable curiosity. It was a worthy price to know that something deeper and darker is at play. If the Darkness I saw is out there even now, are we doomed? Is Creation to be taken and consumed by something from another realm? The Gate is open in spite of countless forged hands binding it. I know not what to even tell the others who play out aspiring Godhood. Are we simply to be the appetizers of this Darkness? Will even the Dragon King merely be a snack to it, or perhaps he is a pawn of it?

So many questions. So many threats and troubles. To know is to bear the weight of the world. I have accepted the burden, perhaps foolishly, but I still accept it even now as I try to adjust to this strange artifice in my own socket allowing me to see. I seek a twin to it, so that my vision will be fully restored to some level. I hope there is something, or I will be forced to commission something instead from our Dwarven neighbors so intent on riding their race into extinction. Perhaps their way isn't so unwise, knowing what may be coming. To savor the last gasp of existence before we are all taken or consumed by that which has broken through.

The world is turning. The Dragon King will wake soon. I must provide all the knowledge I can to those souls who would resist such a vile figure. Perhaps this Darkness is more than just physical. The things in the world are stirring but I must move carefully. Kozan must grow and I feel oddly the need to let others do the talking. Bards. Knowledge isn't just stuffy books and dusty shelves guarded by loyal Watchers. Knowledge is stories. Joy and sadness. Victory and defeat. Folly and genius. Explicators lecture but perhaps it is time the Order expanded to produce bards. To spread wisdom in tale and song as much as through the books those very things reside within. I will commence work to form a Bardic College to expand our reach. Perhaps by making people laugh and sing, the messages and lores will spread that are needed. Perhaps hope will survive if I give the world stories to lift their hearts. We need hope. The Darkness is coming. Hope is all we may have in the end to stand against that which is out there.

Along with that, my ongoing studies into the Terra Cotta and runes has created fascinating new leads. I have already dispatched orders to begin preparing various pieces to experiment. I only hope my vision will be sufficient, if not, I will rely upon touch and memory of flesh until I repair my vision more. If you are reading this... Please do not lose hope. It is all any of us can have in the bitter end. It is the last light even when shadow engulfs us.


Actions 1: Archivum Kozan will commence contruction and recruitment for a grand Bardic College.

Action 2: Nomolos will pursue deeper research into the Dragon Emperor's generals in the hopes of locating them or gaining more insights.
 
Last edited:

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top