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Vahastra: Black Gnosis [RP]


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Year of the Fool

 

Spring dawns in Vahastra once again. As the new year dawns, farmers return to their fields, and the snow melts in typical fashion, though this year a sense of unease settles to replace it. Astral omens confirmed it as under the sign of the Fool, a sign of sudden shift in worldly currents. Change was coming.

 

In the Empire, while the streets begin to bustle again, Anakhton Tarkhos III calls upon His Imperial Council. Rumours regarding the aging emperor’s ill health have begun propagating, though only in hushed tones - as if the living god was hard of hearing. While this of course goes unmentioned, the various governors, archons, kings, and strategoi that are summoned are all aware that it will doubtless be on the agenda, only adding to the pervasive nervousness felt as the year rears its head. The only relief was that the Lightbringer was not among those summoned - His presence being a sure sign of a reign at its end. 

 

Another issue like to crop up were troubling and increasing reports of raids on the empire’s holdings on the vast Akhelkyanos lakes. Though the identity of the raiders is unconfirmed, there are no reservations among all the Empire’s classes about blaming the tribals living among the marshes. Many are eager to see harsh punishment for the insult to the Anakhton, though for now He has not acted, deferring the matter as one for a Council.

 

And elsewhere, the quarrelsome states of the island of Argokon, the heart of the Mesogean, settle back into peace after yet another period of fraternal wars. After attempting to push east and finally assert full hegemony over Argokon, the kingdom of Prodakos is forced to a halt by the Anean League and returned to their borders, where the war stagnated as it has countless times before. As peace returns to the isle, ominous mists are seen by many a merchant travelling by. 

 

Vahastra.png

[Temp Map]

 

E T E S H

The Great Republic - to the world, the height of malfeasance and degeneracy. But, within, the mighty Etesh is a glittering light of civilisation among a dark sea of tyranny and heresy. The ceaseless march continues in to the new year without pause, though within the first couple weeks there is quite the curiosity developing in the capital. [Discord]

 

N Y R E

The jewel at the crest of the Mesogean crown, Nyre’s position affords it a great deal of wealth, and a great deal of control over others’. The ancient city is abuzz, for with the spring comes the return of the alchemists of Guramkos’ potion shipments as they pass through to the Mesogean. [Magical goods source in capital state]

 

A C H E L A G O R A

The sea-faring nomads, having spent their winter in the relatively safe and balmy waters of the Elraic gulf, now prepare to venture forth for the year. As they do, a somewhat naive-seeming but enthusiastic group of merchants’ sons sail out to meet the living fleet, asking that they may join them in their voyages. They come upon a rather embellished pair of triremes, with a full crew and complement of mercenary marines. [Send response in private channel]

 

A M P H I T R Y O N

The mountain kingdom on the Empire’s northern periphery should likely not be as prosperous as it is, what with it being formed long ago by refugees, and trapped between an unforgiving desert and the equally unforgiving Akmagoron mountains. However, their affinity for the earth, and the range’s immense mineral wealth, has allowed the hardy folk to prosper.

 

That mineral wealth once again yields for Amphitryon, as miners bring up the fruits of one of many veins of gemstones from the mountains’ bowels. [Luxury goods source in capital state]

 

A V O S

The melting pot of the north, Avos is a locus for the flow of culture and wealth to and from the Elraic Empire. And since their settling of the grand bones of a civilisation past, a locus for conflict too. It is perhaps no surprise to the Archons, then, that numerous citizens from the outer reaches of the city-state’s hinterlands have petitioned the government about pirate raids on fishermen and coastal villages. 

 

Meanwhile, prospectors of Old Avos return from another expedition into the depths one of the many countryside palaces the precursors built. With them, they bring yet more artefacts, and of course the state gets its cut. Though mostly mundane, a number of carvings of tablets appear to show advanced techniques in the magic of Mehnos, as well as a number of magical theses that seem decidedly less than orthodox. [+1 Lore Fragment, black goods source in capital state]

 

M U A B ‘ D E

The Kingdom of Muab’De is often derided outside its borders for its adherence to the ‘words’ of a stone, but this derision has rarely extended to conflict with the one-time tribal alliance, for superstition abounds about disappearances among those who threaten Muab’de. And so the new year is brought in as peaceful as ever under the august Arichnai. 

 

From the Kingdom’s north-east, an envoy of the large city-state of Agathon would arrive. It is no secret they have been battling with Stygian cultists and corruption in their east, and the man is likely to ask for aid. [Discord]

 

A M B E R    C O N C L A V E

Once internal enemies of the Empire, after proving their worth by both the sword and the boiling flask, the Amber Lords and their conclave now enjoy great prominence and wealth in the Empire. They are among the foremost alchemists of the realm, and it is this reputation that sees a letter arrive from Iekaron, boisterous client king of Germedukon in the Empire’s dry north-west. In it, a query about a contract. [Discord]

 

L U O Y A N G

Strangers in an even stranger land, the kingdom of Luoyang has found no shortage of challenges since their predecessors first arrived on the shores of Taloxatla centuries ago. Nonetheless, a keen aptitude for magic among the kingdom’s peoples has kept them alive and strong, much to the disdain of the less than friendly natives. 

 

At the start of the new year, a merchant of Luoyang returns from a voyage into the heart of the island’s stone forests. He brings with him numerous scrolls of spellcraft he claims he found in some ruins he passed by, and presents them and his knowledge to the Triarch Princes’ court. [+2 Lore Fragments, Discord]


R A T A E 

Ratae, once a promising and ambitious venture by Imperial colonists, now stands as an isolated kingdom on Taloxatla, having instead fallen to necromancy and tyranny. Regardless, through force of will the nascent black stain has solidified its hold over its slice of the untamed island, and is now a potent force on it.

 

What’s more, as Rex Artenian secured his holdings, large groves filled with Cloud Ferns were discovered. While the undead may not have much interest in smoking it, it certainly fetches a healthy price on the markets. [Black goods source on capital state]

 

V R A C H A T I

Even before it joined the Anakhta Elraion, the Kaloreia Vrachation itself was a notable power on the Mesogean coast. Since then, their prosperity has only grown with the Empire’s, and is now one of the foremost provinces outside of the heartlands. Once more, the Kalos of Vrachati is called upon by the Anakhton to make the journey to Mekagetnos and attend His Imperial Council. 

 

Elsewhere, a lone alchemist from the League of Guramkos’ holdings on the Mesnasterios islands to the north-east arrives in the kingdom’s northernmost city, requesting that he be taken to someone in charge. [Discord]

 

E D O N - Y A

A somewhat unusual case in the Elraic Empire, the alchemist-populated city-stated of Edon-ya has nonetheless prospered, perhaps due that very heterodoxy. Though not considered the finest alchemists in the Empire, much less the known world, their position in its holdings on the arid southern Gerakunos coast has allowed the Edon-yans to carve out their own sizable chunk of the alchemical market there and become a boon for the Empire. For this, they have earned their autonomy, and with it an invitation to the Imperial Council the Anakhton has convened.

 

B Y T H A E

Bythae - for long it has been a thorn in the Empire’s side and a stain on their ego. As the Empire encroached into their land during their eastward expansion, their invasions were repeatedly repulsed in the face of the mighty fortress-cities constructed by the Kingdom’s Arch-Masons. After many attempts, the Empire accepted their inability to advance past Bythae, and since relations have slowly thawed, allowing the Bythaeans to get rather rich off of trade trade passing to and from the imperial east. 

 

In the south of Bythae, the new year comes with relatively concerning news. Raids have struck from across the lakes, seemingly by the same as those who had attacked the Empire’s holdings, though like there their identity was unconfirmed. Little was damaged or taken as Bythaean arms quickly threw them back, but many are calling for action to be taken.

 

P A R A J A G H A N D A R

The Kingdom of Parajaghandar occupies a unique position in the world - on the very edge of imperial influence, and equally on the very edge of the little-known civilisations that exist beyond it. Between this and their inclination toward the astral sphere, it is no surprise the kingdom has developed an aura of mystery surrounding it to outsiders. Only adding to this is their native elephants, which have confused and devastated any who have been foolish enough to face them in war. However, many are familiar with the highly sought after ivory that flows from and through the kingdom’s borders. [Luxury goods source in capital state]

 

A X I A N   O R D E R

The city of Axium was once a jewel of the Empire, if somewhat out of the way. However, since the actions of the madman Valis, the Lost City as it is now called by the wider world and its inhabitants have been adrift on the astral tides for many years. Though this is little known by outsiders, the city has prospered despite this, and as the population has developed into to a more regimented militarist regime, it has even begun extending its grasp back in to the physical world. 

 

But in the mean-time, strange changes have taken root in the city. Natural plants and animals seem somewhat altered by the new reality, if it could be called that, and the latent magical energy of the city has been enough that porphirasteria have been consistently blooming, allowing the Axian Order access to its highly valuable dye. [Magical goods source on capital]

K H A R A K   K H A N A T E

A proud and noble people, the Kharak people have prospered on their steppe under the bounty of the Great Sky. As the winds incessantly shift, the Kharak too have followed, migrating across the vast plains of northern Gerakunos for centuries. Recently, they have come to be united under the proclaimed Khan, Jungsai, and overall these nomads have been on an upward trajectory in recent decades. The vast and wild north-west is open to be claimed, and the Kharak are poised to be one of those who may do so.

 

And someone else appears to have realised this, for from the Khanate’s west come reports of potential war. Of the region’s two native Dawekii horsemen, two tribes stand above the rest - the Gelekwos, and the Wedordeiwos to their south-west, and the former appears to be migrating towards the latter’s more hospitable territory.

 

S A L A R I K

Despite being composed of former desert-dwellers, the Kingdom of Salarik is one of the most religiously devoted kingdoms of the Anakhta. This, and the fertile soil of their lake-side highlands, has allowed the the kings of Salarik to enjoy a fair deal of autonomy as Mekagetnos was content to leave them to it, as long as the grain kept flowing. [Double production for farm estates in capital state] 

 

As the Year of the Fool draws in, an unusually large amount of the faithful make the pilgrimage to the Grand Temple of Sehula in Kosan. It seems the sense of unease has encouraged many to seek blessing from the Sun Goddess, would that she protect them from a change in fate for the worse. Scores of young men, eager to use the winds of change to escape their tranquil rural villages, offer their fealty to Omer III as warriors, and the flood of pilgrims also brings with it the flood of gold. [+1,000 Light Throwers, +5,000 Gold]

 

O R C O V A

The Land of Black Iron - a violation of all that is holy to those beyond its reach, and a mortal threat of soul-shattering horror to those within it. Tales of the unholy Imperium's iron demons - the Baneful - and their merciless, disciplined crushing of those who interfere with the righteous course that has been set from the Horned Throne have spread far and perturbed many. Its isolated position has prevented the spread of these legends from encouraging any of the pitiful light-worshipping "powers" to the South from purging the black stain, and so the thunderous iron march of the Orcovan Imperium faces little to stop its endless, glorious advance.

 

Change always benefits those who serve the Boundless Chains, for chaos is a keystone of black dominion. Word arrives from the east, on the border with the pathetic tree-worshippers of Pridano. A bold group of youths, hoping to impress their veteran fathers, crossed over into their land, and seized a shipment of their strange trinkets, medicinal roots, and other goods as it headed from the countryside to the coast. The druids did not dare tempt the wrath of Orcova by pursuing. The tale of their endeavour and minor victory are celebrated throughout the Imperium, resulting in a surge of volunteers. [+5 Magic Goods to storage. -10% recruitment cost for 2 turns]

 

 

Edited by hellfiazz
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The Scourge of the Empire

Lightbringer Arkhelon
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THE RUINED CITY OF AVOS

The Year of the Fool, 1048

Months 1-6(12)

 

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“To Agos nyr to Anakhta eiva ano,

En twyn exo nos,

En wyn exo kativos.

 

Sehula anyos tor nas,

Ka fyr tios antinos,

Aen enkinovos novi to ovynus Sehula.”

 

“The Age of the Empire is over,

From within it has rot,

From outside it will be destroyed.

 

Sehula guide us,

As we bring retribution,

To those who have sullied your name;

 

The Great Trial has begun.”

 


 

So are the words spoken by the Tyrant of Avos to the Archons - this city has found its purpose. No longer will its people lay in the shadows of its ruins, but instead strive to carve out their own destiny. A destiny carved out from the corpse of an Empire - the Anakhta Elraion, from which much of the Avosian population hail from, either in seeking out a better life, or fleeing imperial conquests and subjugations.

 

It is of no surprise then, of how deeply rooted Avosian contempt is regarding the imperial menace. Their ways of life once ruined by this empire, forced to flee to all corners of the earth as their nations were consumed - with only a fortunate few lucky enough to have congregated within Avos. Now the Empire seeks to continue what it did not finish, as their colonies expand ever so closely to the ruined city. 

 

Inaction in the presence of this adversity will be the cause of the end of this new hope. It is the obligation, the duty, of every Avosian to resist imperial advance, to send them back from where they came, and to manifest the Avosian destiny throughout Gerakunos. There is nothing greater in life than to sacrifice one’s self to the greater good.

 


 

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The Varisas-district of Avos,

A largely unexplored and uninhabited portion of Avos situated in its south-east, Varisas is the site of many ancient temple-like structures, and is hypothesized to have been the center of worship for whatever precursor civilization built Avos. 

 

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The Great Trial,

 is a concept forwarded by the Tyrant of Avos that details the need for the destruction of the Anakhta Elraion by the hands of an enlightened Avosian Empire in the future. It is an extremist ideology fueled by hatred brought upon by imperial invasions. It is popular within the Archonites of Avos, but has yet been made mainstream throughout the City-State.

 


ACTIONS

Available Avosian Drakhma: 120,150g

 

Following petitions made by several outlying rural communities regarding pirating activities on the shores of the city-state, the Tyrant formally approves the dispatchment of Avosian troops to secure the national peripheries. The Amentasivos, numbering 4 Regiments at 2000 soldiers capacity, are specifically dispersed to the affected settlements, as well as other potential targets - they are led by the Archon Tyros. Another division is sent out along with the infantry, though they branch out to a different operation; 1 unit of melee cavalry along with an attachment of ranged cavalry are dedicated to monitoring the open stretches of coast lines between settlements. 

 

Working in tandem with local government, central authority in Avos also begins the establishment of Citizen Watch. These organizations enlist the aid of able-bodied citizens in affected areas to work part-time in alerting communities of incoming raids and to assist in their defense alongside state troops. They are paid fair, but still minimum wages, and  are supplied with light, left-over, equipment. Further improvements to the system are expected, but will have to wait till the production of more resources.

 

During this process, resources are dedicated to establishing an intelligence network dedicated to uncovering the source of these pirates and other like-minded vagabonds. Agents of the Archons are sent throughout the neighbouring regions under various identities, interworking with one another as they narrow their leads. These agents are provided any funds they may require, with a portion of the state’s budget afforded to them.

 

And from the decrepit dockyards of the Avosian port-district of Narin, the city-state’s meager fleet of 5 Hemiolias sally forth, as they begin to patrol the northern coastline of the nation on the lookout for any abnormalities. [MOD INTERACTION - RESPONSE TO PIRATES | 4000 Amentasivos, 1000 cavalry, 5 Hemiolias deployed for peacekeeping | Intelligence gathering begins, 10,000g | Citizen’s Watch, 25,000g, 1 iron]

 

An Avosian representative and his entourage are sent to the isle nearest to Avos of which the League of Guramkos controls. Should the League be amiable to the presence of the Avosian diplomat, the individual portrays himself calmly and with cordial behaviourism, though noticeably lacks any sort of grace that may be befitting of Guramkosian cultural interactions. They bring with them a desire for continued peace, along with the proposition of establishing some sort of trade network between the two political entities. [NPC INTERACTION - LEAGUE OF GURAMKOS - CONCLUDED OVER PMs]

 

Following a successful interaction with the League of Guramkos, the Avosian diplomat makes his way along the Gerakunos coastline to the Kingdom of Antekroia, following a recently departed convoy of merchants on route to the Principality of Nyre. He takes in the sights of southern Gerakunos, his artistic abilities being of use as he sketches landscapes and documents the local way of life. He makes neat work of this, compiling all the information gathered into a report to be presented to his respective Archon when he returns to Avos. 

 

Eventually the caravan reaches Antekoria, leading to the diplomat presenting himself to whoever may take him in. Introductions are made, and the diplomat explains his purpose of arrival - the need to facilitate trade between their two nations, especially the purchasing of resource goods to assist in the expansion of Avos. [NPC INTERACTION - KINGDOM OF ANTEKROIA- CONCLUDED OVER PMs | TRADE CARAVAN SENT FROM ANTEKROIA TO AVOS, 8 STONE, 6 IRON, 38,000g COST]

 

With parts of the ruined city now able to commit to the mass production of trading goods, it also begins the distribution of such goods to friendly nations that have had accepted trading rights. It currently takes advantage of imperial leniency to send caravans through its borders as it has been doing so far, but with the Great Trial in its infancy, that being the eventual outcome of total war, conflict may soon embroil the region as the city-state prepares itself to launch a crippling blow to the colonies - effectively cutting Avos off from the rest of the mainland. To ensure the safe arrival of the caravans, a unit of seasoned heavy cavalry are embedded with the merchants. [Caravan sent to the Princedom of Nyre, 24 craftwork goods, 15 blackgoods | Protective detail, 1 unit of seasoned Heavy Melee-Cavalry] 

 

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As the caravans proceeded along the coast to Nyre, it also established a tradepost. Primarily founded to protect Avosian interests in the region, it is also planned to become a site to exert the ruined city’s influence in the region as the tradepost grows in population. [14,100g, 2 stone]

 

Pirate activities are of great concern to the Archons, and therefore, it is of no surprise that the navy must be bolstered to defend against such a threat. Therefore, within a derelict, barely functionable drydock in Avos, a Trireme commences construction. [7500g, 2 lumber]

 

Following recent prospecting success, Archon Kyran organizes a survey corp for the unearthing of Old Avosian history and mysteries. Though the Tyrant has not openly expressed such, they have a palpable desire to uncover the origins, and cause of ruins for Avos, as well as any other notes of importance. And so with the backing of the Tyrant, a sizable portion of the state’s semiannual budget is set aside to establish and organize this government initiative into the ruins. [30,000g to expand and continue prospecting in Old Avos for further lore fragments and other tidbits]

 

An intelligence unit of a national scale is formed under the oversight of Archon Uilos. It currently consists only of a framework, and is still very much in its infancy.

 

5550g left

 


 

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The Archon of War, Kyros,

is the Tyrant’s foremost subordinate, second in authority to the Archon of Order himself in government affairs. To each other, they have been the strongest of companions - with the history between these two going far beyond their flight from the imperial continent.

 

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The Archonites,

is a form of government unique to Avos, in which the city is ruled alike to a dictatorship, led by the Tyrant of Avos, the Archon of Order, Tyran, and his subordinate Archons. Each Archon helms an aspect of government within Avos under the purview of the Tyrant.

 


THE ARCHONS - THE ARCHONITE

 

Archon of War, Kyros

National Focus: Offence

Manpower: 28000

Manpower recovery: 1680

 

Army of Kyros

            4 (2000) Regiments of Super-Heavy, 1-handed seasoned Amentasivos

            2 (1100) Regiments of Heavy, 2-handed seasoned infantry

            2 (1000) Regiments of Heavy, spear infantry regulars

 

            2 (1000) Regiments of Heavy, seasoned melee cavalry

            2 (1000) Regiments of Light, ranged cavalry regulars

 

            1 (500) Regiment of Light, Slinger regulars

            2 (1000) Regiment of Light, Thrower regulars

            2 (1000) Regiment of Medium, Archer regulars

                          Total: 8600 soldiers

 

Ships of Avos

Explorer Ships: 0

Hemiolia: 5

Trireme: 0

Quadrireme: 0

Quinquereme: 0

Hixireme: 0

            Total: 5 ships

 

Recruitment:

1. n/a

2. n/a 

 

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Archon of Order, Tyran

Total Income: 119,950g

Upkeep: 5500g

City-State Government:

- 100g/per 1000 pop 

- May build trade posts in empty tiles. May upgrade trade posts to colony cities with enough in-region trade partners

- Colony cities provide +5 building slots, +1 province cap, 10,000g, and the use of their armies and fleet

- +1 trade good production per building, +10% trade good sale price. Doubled special trade goods building cap per source.

 

National Focus: 

Foreign Markets,

- +1 to Farm Estate, Workshop, Artisan's Workshop, and Smuggler's Den production

Wisdom,

- +2 Mage Cap. +5 Base Arcane. Access to 1 extra unique spell

 

National Idea: Each general that remains in Avos borders provides +5% trade good sale price and -3% build cost.

Population: 560,000

Provinces: 6

 

The Ruined City of Avos

Population: 150,000

Fortification: Great Stone Wall

Storage Size: 30

 

Commercial District: 1

Manufactory: 10

Workshop: 8

Smuggler’s Den: 5

Warehouse: 2

 

Produces 24 Craftwork Goods

Produces 15 Black Goods

 

Generates 29750g without trade

Generates 97250g with optimal trade

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The Captain

 

They had been running wool to the Empire, and Jebediah Corkstock had owned the ship he had captained, and been quite proud of it as well. It was a strong thing, with large sails and a row of oars on each side. He had used up half a shipment of profit to dye the sails red once, after he was convinced it would ‘draw attention to him’ at port. But the man had scammed him, and the dye had run off like paint in the first rains. 

 

Now, everything was grey. Even his skin felt grey, as if the life had been sucked out of him. Horrible shivers wracked his body as his muscles rebelled in the bitter cold and a cut-glass wind sliced through his tattered cloak. 

 

They had been run aground onto a reef an hour before as they tried to escape the clutches of a mist so thick that a man could barely see his own feet. Now, waves crashed into his fractured ship, making it groan like a wounded beast and Jebediah was too cold to feel its pain.

 

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A few crewmen still survived, clutching at canvas scraps of sail in the cold, their hollow, exhausted eyes like darkened lamps in the night.

 

“Cap’n, it's him, it's him it has to be,” stuttered one through chattering teeth. 

 

“Shut yer dirty trap, Gabon, it ain't but some pissin' mist,” grunted the Bosun, a hardy man from Nyre called Schlomo.

 

“We shall wait for it to pass,” croaked Jebediah. His throat felt crusted with salt. “And we pray to the gods.”

 

And as if summoned, as if his words had called it forth from the murk that surrounded them, conjured it from whorls of mist like a nightmare born of the scrap of a forgotten dream, it appeared. A grey-sailed unfamiliar, carrying at its back a huge and birdless silence that seemed to quell even the waves in their fury. Its oars sliced the waters without sound, and shadow lingered upon its deck like captured souls.

 

The imperial in the crew began muttering a litany to his god-damned dragon, while another whimpered and fell to his knees. “It’s him, it’s him, it’s him,”  he muttered frenetically. 

 

Jebediah felt it in his gut like a ball of lead. That certainty of death one felt when faced with an apocalyptic storm, or a dagger in a dark alley. The myths and legends felt out of reach now, far from the reality of a grey ship in the mist. “The Mistreaver,” he breathed.

 

“Aye,” said a low voice, like a whistle of wind through a cracked window. “It be him.” And suddenly, they were surrounded. Monstrous apparitions born out of a twisted nightmare realm. Humans warped by the darkest curses of the sea, twisted into fish-like monstrosities with flat eyes and scales, with gills and barnacles hooked to their green and blue-veined flesh. The crew recoiled, but Jebediah stood his ground.

 

Looting CG Treasure From 'Dead Man's Chest' — Part 1 | Animation World  Network

 

A fool he may have been, but this was his ship, and these were his men. “T-This ship has nothing for you, let us be, or the Moon shall have its judgement!” If only his voice had not sounded so thin in the darkness.

 

The imperials litany grew louder and louder, his voice ragged with the frantic urgency of the dying. Then something flashed in the darkness. Black steel parting red flesh. A gurgle. Silence.

 

“The Moon cannot judge what it cannot see,” said a far more human voice. The crew parted, and there stood a man, robed in grey and black, his hair dark and a single patch over an eye. His skin was pale, as if the sun had not touched it in many a year, and his features almost aristocratic. A pipe hung from his lips, smoldering in the darkness and releasing a foul scent. But when Jebediah looked into his only eye, he saw more monster than in any of the terrible crew, for there was a demon-sickness in that eye that made him reel back, as if he had stared into the realm of the stygoi itself. “And I,” said the man, stepping forward until he stood before Jebediah. “Find myself in need of crewmen.” 

 

He moved then, swift and sudden, and his black saber now lifted Jebediah's chin until he was staring into the Mistreavers eye, a thing that seemed to spiral on forever into a deep abyss. Jebediah shook now, his whole body torn by tremors, and he could not break the cursed man's gaze. “Do you fear death?” He nodded now, for he did, deep down at his core and his heart froze at the thought of the end. “Do you fear the dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare, all your sins… punished? I can offer you… an escape.”

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Heavenly Kingdom of Luoyang

 

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Roleplay

 

Deep within the City of Luoyi, in the District of Celestial Jade wherein the Tower of Three Dragon sits. The sound of gongs could be heard in the distance as various religious ceremonies from the countless temples and shrines occur daily with many adherents to the faith of the Luoyi seeking favour of ancestor Gods and powerful Spirits. Many young sorcerers can be seen following their masters around the courtyard of the renown magic academy taking notes and listening to their lectures, while others could be seen engaging in practical exercises though carefully overseen by senior instructors at  the tower while commoners watch them with awe. An elderly sorcerer would walk among them heading towards the tower itself lugging a bag with various scrolls readying them to be archived within the tower's vaults so that they may serve the Kingdom when the time comes. 

 

As he reaches his office inside the great tower he takes a moment to withdraw his hand fan and has a breather as he unfurls a blank scroll made from fine vellum, the elderly sorcerer withdraws an ink brush and begins writing “It is the year the barbarians name as 1048 in their numerals, however to us we know it simply as the year of the fool. Our Kingdom has continued to grow steadily over the past few centuries but we are obstructed at every step, the Di peoples to the North continue to try and push us to the sea with their constant raids. Worse still the Rong peoples who summon the dead as puppets draw closer to our borders with each passing season, yet the Omens we see tell us the righteous shall prevail.”

 

Pausing for a moment so that he might take a sip of water and clears his throat before resuming putting brush to vellum. “Merchants traversing the great stone forests to the North of the Grand City of Luoyi have found something, it is all the talk within the Conclave and there is an aura of excitement but also caution coming from the Exorcist Clans. Even still I am personally anxious as the stewardship of Prince Wei Jin while it has been quiet has been stable and prosperous despite all the challenges we have faced, this land is our home now and we have done our best to fight off the darkness inherent to this place. I keep these personal records so that my successors in the future may judge history based on my perspective, I only hope the Triarchy acts with the will of Heaven and that we are able bring the light of the Moon, Sun and Stars and that the people outside our Kingdom can be saved from the evils their so called leaders subject them to on a daily basis.” he’d finish with his final brushstroke before sighing, looking out the window of his office and seeing the symbol of summons in the sky as the next session of court was due to begin. He pushes himself up from his chair and grasps a staff to assist him across the district to the palace, perhaps he can influence the Princes more cautiously. 

 

Actions - Available Coin: 87,860

 

An Expedition to the State to the North of the Capital, the one that takes up half of the island's stone forest. This expedition is launched to begin the process of pacifying and integrating the state. 2,500 Troops, 5 Units of Agri Trade Goods and 3 Stone are used to build a Castrum and begin distributing food among the populace of the State. Prince Wen Ying himself leads the expedition promising the various tribes that inhabit the area the protection of Luoyang, teaching of farming methods and organised land distribution among the populace should they accept the Luoyi and their Lordship. (3 Stone, 5 Agri, 15,000, Mod)

 

Five Quarries are ordered to be constructed in the Provinces. (37,000)

 

Three Workshops are constructed in the City of Chen, to increase the output of crafted goods. (22,500)

 

Two Units of Medium Spearmen are recruited. (8000, 4 Iron)

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ETESH

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1048

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“Vibrant roses bloom

Winding beds of beauteous joy

Beware! The prickly thorns.”

 

Near the shores of the Sea of Ophir - part of what others call the Mesogean Sea - rests a great jewel, built into and around a single, towering hill; resplendent and glorious. Etesh commands the surrounding countryside with a mighty aura, radiated from the miles of grim slums at the foothills, to the majestic palaces of bronze and marble, atop the great heights of the settlement. From peak to base, the city is a tangled warren of rambling streets and avenues, labyrinthine both above and below the ground - where run the endless tunnels of the Catacombs. Countless people live here, most clustered into the cramped and flimsy apartments in the lower parts of the city, living meagre - but not particularly hard - lives. These poor accommodations are not, however, important; in the grand scheme of things. Power, as it always does, resides at the top, amidst the palaces and houses of bronze and marble, surrounded by intricate glass, and dwelled in by the mighty.

 

It is atop this hill, at the pinnacle of Etesh, that Nunamnir - Lord of Dust, the Stargazer - makes his home, in a small (comparatively speaking) residence, surrounded by acres of rambling gardens. It is late in the spring, and the many flower beds roar with boundless colour, as roses of every shade and hue struggle and clash in an endless battle to declare themselves the brightest, the most vibrant, the most beautiful.  Through these garish lanes walks a man - or what would be taken for a man, were it not for the strange crest that sat atop his head, topped by a half dozen little green flames. His stride is purposeful, confident; it is clear he has walked here many, many times. Through the rose beds he weaves until, at last, he reaches a small clearing, where two sit at a small metal table - one clearly human, though a human possessed of strange red eyes, and black veins; and the other a member of the same strange race as the hiker.

 

“The stars in the sky” recites the non-human, as the hiker approaches “Glittering high above the earth, far beyond my reach.” The red-eyed human makes a sound of disgust, as the hiker finally reaches the table, weathered stone face gazing down impassively upon the seated pair. 

“As poetic as ever, Nunamnir.” he greets, a sardonic smile contrasting sharply with the otherwise empty; flat expression “One would think you had better things to do with your time, than tend roses and write verse.”

A snort from the human answers this declaration, as if he had argued this case already. The one called Nunamnir says nothing, and instead reaches towards a gameboard upon the table, and slides a metal piece across two squares. “I believe I win again.” he mutters quietly, before turning his full attention to the newcomer “What do you want, Inzak Orator? Can you not see that I have little want nor need of whatever it is you come to offer?”

Inzak blinks and takes a deep breath, attempting to control his rising irritation. He turns his head slightly to look at the human, Lazarus, who grimaces, looking uncomfortable. “Are you not even going to offer a guest the hospitality of your home?” Inzak finally snaps, turning his eyes back to his elder sibling “Or have manners also deserted you, in your long ‘retirement’?”

“You have nothing to say that I wish to hear, so why make offers that will keep you in my house for longer than is necessary?” Bored with the conversation, and unconcerned with his brother’s wrath, Nunamnir stands, scraping his chair across the stone, before wandering away, down a path surrounded by white roses, tinged with blue and black.

 

“Nunamnir!” roars Inzak, at his departing back “You think they will let you live like this forever? You swore to serve Etesh when you took the Binding! Already the Inquisition calls for you to be sealed! What will it take to make you do your duty? Condemnation to the Inkart-?” Inzak chokes back his words, as Nunamnir turns back with thinly veiled fury.

“Do not invoke that name in my home - I believe you have said enough, and I am sure you know the way out.” With a swirl of robes, the Lord of Dust turns and walks away, disappearing within the maze of roses. Finally the Orator turns, his displeasure obvious, to Lazarus.

“And what of you? Will you continue to defy the wishes of the Senate?” The red-eyed human shrugs, muscle bulging beneath his tunic as he makes this simple movement. Fingers with nails like talons tap upon the table, and a twist of Lazarus’ mouth reveals rows of viciously pointed teeth. 

“I go where my masters command, Inzak Orator, but lest there is blood for me to spill, I see little reason to leave this place. I am the Lord of Ash, and I have little interest in anything save blood and war, pillage and rapine, torture and mutiliation.” The creature - who by now is clearly not human - grins, sinisterly “So command me forth is you desire, but expect me not to go, should there not be anything I might enjoy in my duties.”

Inzak stares at the creature, a chill running down his spine at the thought of releasing this barely shackled beast into the world. The quiver of doubt lasts but a moment - he swiftly stills his heart and hardens his resolve. “I will send you forth then, to do your duty to Etesh, and to me.”

 

He turns then, keenly aware of his unwelcome status, and begins to pick his path back through the rose beds. Near the doors, by a patch of particularly radiant flowers, he stops, his eyes picking out the differences in colour, the sharpness of the thorns, the loving care with which the soil has been weeded. He reaches forwards, gently, and picks a single rose. For a while, he considers it, before savagely crushing it in his closed fist. The broken rose turns black as Inzak throws it into the bed with the others. As he turns and storms out the gate, the rose bed wilts and dies, and bright blood drips from his ragged fingers.

 

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The winds howled as they blew through the ruins, producing a chilling melody as they shifted and twisted through the lonely columns and collapsed walls. Once, long ago, a proud fortress once sat there; now it was nothing more than a forgotten pile of rubble. Above the bleak, wind-blasted carcass of the fort, a blanket of black storm clouds seemed as if they would burst at any moment.

 

The eerie tranquility of the scene soon interrupted by the appearance of a lonesome armored figure, an Exalted too no less. Where small plumes of white and gold flames once burned upon the tips of Oris’ many crests, simple streaks of pale blue-green light had taken their place. Slowly, he drifted through the shell of what were once buildings, bony hands running along their surfaces. 

 

“Wake up, you have a new task. Our time has not yet come...”

 

A small pebble shifted and fell out of place, tumbling down onto the earth. Slowly, a mound of rubble began to move as an armored skeleton pulled itself from its earthen tomb. Soon another followed, and another, and another. Before long, the whole site was a hive of activity as long dead warriors clambered to the Exile’s side, compelled to serve he who bore the Pale Crown.

“The Beyond is waiting...”

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It was a calm day in the Sea of Orul, with a humble northwesterly breeze offering a meager amount of force to supplement the labors of the oarsmen. It was just enough to draw the sails of the five Tiremes, each a spitting image of the other per the demands of naval discipline. It presented a superb portrait of seagoing life; something to make the true sailor's heart leap with joy. Though the four captains who presently stood on the after-deck of the flagship were too occupied with their anxiety to appreciate it as this display was subjected to the most intense kind of scrutiny. With anticipation, they awaited the verdict of the figure who, his back turned, could have any kind of hideous expression of displeasure on his face. Looking over the rail, tapping a long finger upon it, the purple-clad Exalted gazed a little longer at the four Tiremes in their perfect line abreast formation. The captains wondered, did their particular arrangement of the rigging match the flagship? Had the gold leaf been neglected? Were the rams polished? Were the rhythms of the oars just right?

 

"You know", said Azlatan, Lord of Salt as he abruptly turned about face bearing an uncharacteristic grin, catching the four captains off guard, "I once spoke to a merchant; a grave-brother of course, who managed to get himself blown four hundred leagues out to sea and had been fitfully making his way back to the coast for weeks. His was a trireme, a shabby old thing really, which our quinquereme had no trouble bringing under our lee in short order." Blank faces stared at the freshly minted Exalted as he leaned on the rail and emoted his tale with vigour. "The merchant's oarsmen were eviscerated with hunger, it was plain to us at a distance, his stores most likely being nearly out. So the captain had us prepare some of our water casks, and we set about rigging a'try in order that we might do our brothers a kindness, as is our duty. As you all know, it is a delicate operation and we had to come up right alongside him in order to do it; barely a man-length between us. We noticed the merchantman and his crew were deeply anxious, observing our conduct as we tried to swing these great heavy objects onto his deck in a heaving cross-sea. Thinking that they were concerned we might let the provisions fall between us, the captain called out - "Don't you worry Grave-Brother, we will see that you will eat and drink to your heart's content until you reach shore." To which the merchantman - " Azlatan paused, his toothy grin widening, ", to which the merchantman replied, 'Never mind that - you'll ding up the paintwork if you don't mind your god damned con." Azlatan's firey eyes narrowed into slits as he let out a disconcerting, growling laughter. Below the deck, the flagship's officers could be heard laughing among themselves, being well acquainted to Azlatan's ways. The captains remained as blank as ever.

 

"You see," said the Exalted commander of the Republican fleet as his face transitioned to something more like the demeanor of the stoic leviathan his underlings feared, "that merchantman and his crew were more concerned with their bearing, their pride than they were with survival. In that moment they put every naval warship afloat to shame, no matter how trim or gaudy. Remember, gentlemen, that what makes a happy fighting ship is not the aesthetic appeal or the quantity of polish employed, but the pride of its crew, and its officers in their work. Do not let any comments about your aesthetics detract your attention from this " The entire after-part of the trireme fell into hushed silence. 

 

"Your commands are in excellent shape, I commend you for your efforts. Come tomorrow, we will have a go at maneuvers. You are all dismissed." And with that, the fleet hove to and the captains departed to their ships in contemplative silence, while the deathless commander paced his afterdeck, contemplating the setting western sun as a favorite Dusii verse floated across his lips:

 

Of sea-captains young and old, and the mates, and of all intrepid sailors, of the few, very choice, taciturn, whom fate can never surprise nor death dismay...

 

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—E C O N O M I C  A C T I O N S—

-- 266,480 Talents 

 

182,000 - Two legions are raised in Besdit [70 Iron] [2 Lumber]

30,000 - Two Akirs are named

20,000 - Hakur is consecrated as a City of Halls
10,000 - Inzak is given agent status
6,000 - The Exile’s ranks swell in number [3 Iron]

12,000 Talents remain unspent
 

Raw resources are sold off in vast quantities. The wealth of Etesh is made abundantly clear. 

-6 Stone overland to the Axian Order in return for 12,000 talents in compensation.

-40 Lumber and 10 Stone overland to the Princedoms of Nyre in return for 80,000 talents.

 

-1 Lumber overland to the northern markets for 250 talents

-12 Iron overland to the northern markets for 3,000 talents

 

-4 Stone is saved

 

—M O D  A C T I O N S—

-Spiders move in the dark [10,000 Talents] [Discord]

Edited by The_Mad_Skylord
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Amphitryon Kingdom

 

          As the sun rises on a new year, the snow begins to melt and winds start to subside. The Amphitryon people come out of their homes, returning to their places of work, worship, and socializing with one another more frequently. As the king of the Stone Throne gazed out onto his city, high above it’s streets, he could see many children playing in an open patch of ground. Some blessed by Artemios, and others not so much. Lysander patiently watched from his palace as they split themselves into two teams and began throwing rocks at one another. Their laughter just distinct enough that it could be pulled out of the sea of noise created by the market stalls and social places. The game Stones is where real men were made. It separated the milk drinkers from the warriors. The weak from the strong. And although it did leave you covered in bruises and cuts, it taught you to be tough and to endure pain all whilst being fun. The watching of his favorite childhood game is cut short however, as a serving girl interrupts him sooner than expected. What a shame. 

 

To him she brings paper and quill, quickly walking back to the large door from hence she came. “A pretty one, that one.” he thought to himself. “Need to get married soon. Have a couple pebbles of my own running about. ” Thoughts for another time though, for as he slid into his finely crafted desk all that filled his mind was politicking and administrative work. With the first few sheets of paper he wrote a series of instruction for new buildings and workshops. All of which would provide a tremendous to the treasures. The latter half of the paper  is used for letters. All of which are being sent west to the Dusii controlled mage states. Apparently, they are mostly stone worshipping people. This is yet to be seen though. No reason things cannot be discussed like civilized people....hopefully they are civilized. (As my hand and fingers become less broken, busted, and swollen, I’ll begin to write more.)

 

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The beauty seen from a mountainside temple of Artemios. The Akmagoran range, Amphitryon territory.
Actions: 

-5 Manufactories. (5 stone, 37,500)

 

-2 Artisan Workshops (4 Stone, 20,000)

 

-2 Quarries are built. (15,000)

 

-Letters are sent to all three Dusii states to the west, Lysander wishes to meet with these supposed stone worshippers.

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The Axian Order

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“Let me tell you a story…”

 

My death was not one of self-sacrifice, nor was it the result of my lust for glory, as many had perceived. You will never hear of my story; my deeds, my aspirations, my holdings or  awards. None remember my life, the family I had made from my being, nor the ones I had forged an iron bond with through the crucible of battle and within the most infant council chambers. Such telltale stories are reserved for those that had been taken from this world with honour, courage, and dignity; the redeeming factors and subconscious reassurances that one's passing was not in poor taste. 

 

Though only so many can be fortunate enough to call their death a worthy culmination of their lives. I was not one of them. My life, my body, even the very thoughts in my mind were spent in servitude to the Elriac Empire. In its mere budding stages as a state and tiring woes of growth, I served. In its evolving and all-encompassing role in this ever-changing world, I served. In my final moments, when my breast pounded with resentment of those around me and the fury of revenge coursed through my veins, I served. A word for such a man comes to mind; a pawn. One which follows, a loyal compatriot, a reliable advocate, and eventually a necessary sacrifice. I was undone by my own blindness, for my devout faith in not only those I surrounded myself with and what I had perceived to be an unwavering pursuit of the betterment of my being only shrouded my vision further. It was in my time of greatest need that the veil was taken from my eyes, and only then did I realize those that I had called ally were no longer with me. 

 

As I entered the void, my mind was ravaged. My thoughts no longer became my own as I recalled the tales of my own past, each memory I made slowly vanished to oblivion as a sense of darkness overwhelmed my quickly blankening mind. In a way, it was comforting. No longer did thoughts of my being or worries of mine cloud my judgement, as for an eternity I drifted through an endless sea. In this time I came to know my greatest enemy that I had never before thought possible to exist; myself. Yet in the turbulent nature of my own self-atonement, a singular thought drifted through my cavernous conscience, a hollow reminder of what, and who, I once was. The desire for revenge, the fulfillment of my servitude, and the endless desire for completion of what was once my sole purpose. It drove me beyond my own self-recognition, for what had been an incomprehensible time left to my own devices to decide on what I truly was beyond a mere man was undone, and soon reality had flooded back within my conscience once more. It was then that I was saved.

 

Fueling my revitalized retribution, and seeking a means to fulfill my newfound devotion, a singular call beckoned to my being. An unfamiliar tone, having been on my lonesome for so long, yet a feeling of comfort once more resonated throughout my soul. With vigour, I answered the call, and as the void withered away what was once black began to glow as the words of prophecy rekindled my existence within this world;

 

“For He is First-Born.”

 


 

Expenditures (133k G, 4 Steel, 4 Lumber) -

 

The Order is lucky, unlike some, to find itself in a familiar and dormant situation. Being far from the reaches of the Empire, as well as most other states, the Order suffers little friction along its borders and is in no true immediate threat. However, one may never be too careful in this world, and as such the meager levy of the Order is revitalized. (2 Units of Medium Seasoned Spear Infantry; 13k G, 4 Iron)

 

If the Order is to excel in this new world they have found themselves in then they must adapt. Merely relying on portals for transport, regardless how effective they may be, will not suffice. As such, the establishment and expansion of the Order’s fleet begins, starting with a duo of triremes being launched from the western holding. (2 Triremes; 15k G, 4 Lumber)

 

Sent from the western Astral Holding of Ordo Nalosis, two retinues of caravans are sent north and south; one to the “Republic” of Etesh across the sea, and the other to the emerging Stygoid Empire of Orcovan over land. (Trade; 12k G to Etesh, 33k G to Orcovan)

 

Seeking security for their exchange with Etesh, an escorting flotilla of Order warships is sent along with three hemiolia to safeguard the Order’s newly acquired assets. (3 Hemiolia, 10 Triremes; Trade Escort with Etesh)

 

With a veil of darkness shrouding the Order’s true vision of this newly rediscovered world, the need for information arises and becomes a priority far beyond any other. With this, only the finest must be sent to scour the land in search of truth, and no finer individual the Order has to send than Ilaria Psellos. Though, before she may be used effectively, training is required. (Gatekeeper; 45k G)

 

It is brought up that, although the Axian Order is based on organization akin to other military orders, there is no current field commander that could lead from the front. And such an issue must be addressed. (General; 15k G)

 

Mod (30 Magic Goods, 27 Craftworks) -

 

As goods have been only domestically traded within Axium for nearly a decade, the principles of sale to another nation are, at best, unusual to some members of the Order. Through the initial woes of finding a suitable land to sell their wares, the promises of fair prices and equal treatment in the lands of Orcovan were heard and followed through. A caravan was dispatched immediately from the western Holding and sent north, carrying the products of the Lost City with it. (Trade Goods to Orcovan; 30 Magic Goods, 27 Craftworks)

 

A lone wanderer ventures east to unknown lands in hopes of a meeting. (Diplomacy; Eastern Purple NPC)

 

And no other shall be sent, for one who searches is one who finds sickly intentions that others may hide. (Discord)


With their vessels carousing the open seas with little purpose, each carries with them a formal invitation, one for each nation in hopes of rekindling a once prosperous relationship. The main backing behind this is the Order's need for stone, which said invitations also list as a needed import if any nations have a surplus they are willing to sell. (Trade Request; Surrounding NPCs [Discord])

Edited by Quackers
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“Aegos,

 

I was tremendously gratified that you chose me to review your last report. It has been some time since you submitted work for consideration, (not that I need to tell you that), and we in the foreign office had been starting to grow bored. Know that you are held in the highest esteem and that we often hope (in vain, I suspect), that you would return to Exelixi more often. I know your feelings on this humble keep well, but I also know you would be very interested in the accomplishments being made here.

 

But as glad as I was to hear from you, I found myself shocked at the contents of your missive. That you would speak so frankly of the Lightbringer Arkhelon in writing is an inexcusable breach of security. I say this as part of the foreign office and as a friend - cyphers can be broken. We have determined that you will refrain from sending this work to other enclaves, and will destroy your own copy as we have already securely archived ours.

 

I saw your children yesterday. Their professors say they are performing acceptably, and they seem happy.

 

Best,

Antraxes”

 

THE AMBER CONCLAVE

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Ava awoke on a long cushion atop an iron pedestal. “Dymas’ garden,” she thought instinctively. Few places were green in Exelixi, and the trees around her seemed right. Disoriented, she got to her feet. The first thing she noticed was that she was taller than she was used to. As a master scribe of the Amber Conclave, she had walked this garden many times - branches which had once arched overhead now were at eye level, and she could see the grooves where sap ran along their upper surfaces. Yes, much taller.

 

The second thing she noticed was that her clothes were gone. At least, the ones she was used to. She raised a hand to find it covered in iridescent armor, down to her fingers. She splayed the hand, and a dozen tiny plates rushed in to fill the gaps as if alive. She tried to touch her face, and for the first time realized it too was shielded: a helmet of the same gold-iridescence lifted off in her hands, trailing a vibrant crest of blue feathers. 

 

Only then did she notice the dozens of scribes watching her.

 

“You’re awake,” spoke a stocky one from the center of the group, stepping forward. “Excellent. Sign this, please.” He waved one of the lesser scribes forward with a parchment full of dense scrawl. The younger man looked up at her with reverence. “A missive, to the other keeps. Ava the Plumed has taken the Judgements and is now in supreme command of all Conclave policy.”

 

Supreme command? Ava stared at the decree. This was wrong. Entirely wrong. “But...what about Telon?”

 

“Lord Telon left Exelixi on ‘urgent business’ two days ago. He has not contacted us since, nor has he given any indication as to when he might return.” The scribe’s voice was curt. What division was he from? “Do sign the missive, Lord Ava. You of all people should realize the importance of keeping order.”

 

She signed. The parchment was immediately plucked from her hands and hurried away, and the scribes thinned as several went with it. Ava had worked in the archives long enough to know why - the proclamation would be copied dozens of times, and an announcement of this type would require at least six seals of witness from scribe-demilegates to be official.

 

The short scribe nodded in satisfaction, then almost imperceptibly bowed. “May your reign be fruitful. I have taken the liberty of drafting a transfer to bring your husband back, though of course the decision is yours. Your personal effects have also been transferred within the Inner Wall, and can be installed once you choose new quarters. Do take your time settling in - your decisions are not urgently needed quite yet.” He intoned the words without taking a breath, then gathered his papers and turned to leave.

 

“Legate?” Ava finally said, clearing her throat. “I don’t know you.”

 

“You may call me Myrkes, Lord Ava,” he replied, looking back. “Your secretary, until you see fit to dismiss me.” He smiled at last, with the confidence of a man convinced that would never happen.

 

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One of the Conclave’s Hemiolas is seen on the coast of Avos, and reports say that it carries a legate sent to discuss the organization’s interest in the area. 

 

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Ava the Plumed, former devoted Architect and master scribe of the Conclave, now wields ultimate power over the entire organization, and she has radically different ideas on how it should be run. For too long has the order kept to its citadel, and for too long has it ignored its most sacred ideal - that men may live ever more prosperously. Conclave alchemists will finally be let loose, and from the people of Vrachati and Edon-Ya they will sculpt a shining image of the world to come - a world unchained, prospering on the tide of innovation.

[5 Architect Castella; 37,500 Gold and 5 Stone]

Q80w1enj3bHy_DG65nBzMtQbdPfAjtb9YHV9ArPByp0lPIE7DcSh8_Mb81FFE2vTTT6LYNeeR7Wk6DXhzobex02GTzL024tOe2vlNxuTNGDrSJb9ljCC4eyQUWG8wS-hEXWrqGh0

 

A new alchemist passes his trials, and is allotted a workshop and production team within the walls of Exelixi. [Caeducian Adept, 10,000 Gold]

 

[5,300 Gold is passed on to the next accounting period.]

 

1 unit of lumber is transmuted to magical goods, then promptly sold to the surrounding population in Vrachati.

4 units of golem-mined iron are sold to the market in Vrachati.

 

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Production:

10 Litadermos produced in Exelixi.

Edited by Zanderaw
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BYTHAE

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Bythae—the land of iron walls and iron wills. Here dwelled the men who defied the greatest empire in history, and stood firm when punishment came. The cities of Bythae were fortresses themselves that blended the civilised and the barbarous, and were famously unyielding to even the strongest of aggressors. At the very western edge of the nation stood the city-state-turned-capital of Argolid, the home city of the legendary hero and unifier Ajax. As decreed by old concordat, in exchange for abandoning the cities in the north and west, Argolid would always and forever be the first line of defense against the Empire. The only bridge across the Midax River passed through the city itself, and the Ajax—a name turned title—would meet the enemy himself. Thus the great Citadel stood defiantly at the very edge of the river’s fork, awaiting the Dragon to rear its head once more.

Of course, trade and relations with the Empire had returned during the lengthy peace, pleasing the river-drinking merchants and peasants. Though the mud men’s opinions had cooled with coin, the blooded ones and old families of Bythae remembered the eternal threat—all the more reason to keep peasants far away from control.

 

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Looming over the city of Argolid, sitting on a massive plateau of shimmering iron plates, stood Ajax Rest. A monolithic citadel, the structure housed dozens of artillery pieces, an armory, barracks, smithy, library, palace, and court. All the defenses were built to ward off invasion from the Elriac Empire, or whatever gibberish they coined for their perfidious kingdom. It was here the various despots of the Bythaen civilisation met, bickered, and saw their needs met by Ajax Celos II.

 

The Hall of Marni was the meeting place for the leaders of Bythae. It was named such for its status as both court and temple, so to keep Gerents from killing one-another over disagreements. Nowadays, most fights remained markedly non-lethal, though older court-goers lamented the loss of such good entertainment. The Gerents and varying nobility dressed as warriors-- mostly armed and armored as both a show of strength and fashion. Their glittering breastplates and gem-encrusted scabbards were mostly for show, but no Bythaen dared to be caught in mere ceremonial armour for fear of mockery and challenges. At the end of the hall atop a rudely-cut stone throne sat perhaps the only unarmed man. He was naked to the waist, and sporting a long, curly black beard. In his right hand he grasped the handle of a beautiful steel greataxe, and his left hand fiddled with a goblet of wine. His lack of armour was a symbolic gesture of trust to his subjects—but no true man was without at least a weapon. The Ajax and the court were all glaring excitedly at the central dais, where two burly, naked men were beating each-other into unconsciousness.

 

It looked, however, that the bout was almost over. One of the fighters was barely able to stand, flapping his fists rather than throwing them as he should. The other, though looking worse for wear, still moved with purpose and speed. The gnarled fist of the bruised and bloodied warrior struck the insensate fighter with a meaty crunch. The stunned man fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, lying still with shallow breaths, and eliciting excited cheers from the onlookers.

 

The ornate chamber was filled with jeers and laughter as the loser of the bout was dragged away to the healing women for care, but a call from the great throne silenced the revelry--

“Irmos of Orchomemnos, and Kardon of Gla, come forth!” Called Ajax Celos, and two armoured men approached the throne. One happily patted the winning fighter on the shoulder with a laugh, and the other shook his head with bitter resentment.

 

“As is tradition, the deed of the town of Kispa and its surrounding lands and subjects are hereby ceded to Gerent Irmos. At the god’s will and Irmos’ strength, I deem this feud over. Should either man act with dishonour, may he be cursed by Marni.” Spoke the Ajax in a practiced and reverential tone.

Irmos grinned at Kardon, the latter spitting on the ground with a grumble.

 

“Furthermore,” Celos continued calmly, “should Kardon’s champion die from his injuries, Irmos will pay double the blood price for his life.”

 

The grin on Irmos’ face was swept away, and he looked to Celos in confusion. “But, Ajax, I must protest! It was a fair bout! Is it my fault that Kardon’s man was a weakling?”

 

The deferential tone left the Ajax as quickly as it came, and he leaned forward to glare at Irmos with greater intensity.

“Don’t give me that flowery bullshit, Irmos. The man was properly beaten for a long while, and I won't have someone die here because your oaf of a champion wanted to hit someone for longer. A breeze could have knocked him over by the end.”

“The **** he could! The man was standing and throwing fists!” Roared Irmos.

 

“I suppose all men of Orchomemnos prefer beating those who cannot strike back?” Jeered Kardon, sneering at his rival impishly.

 

Irmos, without even a first glance, turned to Kardon and struck at his face with his fist. Likely having predicted this action (and likely intending to elicit this action) Kardon stepped quickly out of the way, and struck Irmos in the cheek with a quick jab. It devolved into a brawl soon after, with the nobility quickly gathering around and cheering as they did before. Celos roared at his Holdguard to break the fight up, and the two bruised men were dragged to opposite sides of the crowd. Much laughter was had by the court and calls for more drinks erupted from the gathered throng.

 

Celos eyed a concerned-looking warrior standing at the doorway of the hall, and tapped his goblet on the arm of his throne as a signal to the serving girl. “Wine.” He grunted with a sigh. After she skittered away, Celos gestured to the Warrior at the back, and the Holdguard lead the man towards the throne.

 

The warrior removed his helm, and kneeled before the Ajax respectfully while Celos’ goblet was filled.

 

“Mighty Ajax Celos, second of his name, blood of the first Hero, Gerent of Argolid, master of war, master of men, first of Bythaens, greatest warrior...” Celos took a long drink from his goblet, and gestured to the warrior to move on. “...er... w-we were raided, Great One.” Stammered the warrior. “We fought them off, but we thought you’d want to know.” This quite clearly caught the Ajax attention.

 

“Who, where and when?” Celos leaned forward, his Gerents and nobles mirroring his interest.

 

“Tribesmen from the southern marshes, in the holdings on the southern mashes and er... a few days ago, now?” The man shifted uncomfortably on his knees.

 

Celos leaned back on his throne, relief quickly passing over his features. After a moment of silence, his stood from his throne and strode towards the warrior. “Those savages have not dared attack us before.” He mused as he walked around the chamber.

“Punishment! They must be punished!” Called a nobleman in the back. Many yelled support, and clattered their swords against the pillars of the hall.

 

“We cannot be seen as weak!” Roared Gerent Irmos, still nursing his busted lip. “The Dragon will sense it!”

 

“Slaughter them! Bathe in the blood of their men, and take their wives and children as slaves! The Gods will punish us for anything less!” Roared Kardon.

 

“Then, brothers, I will deal with them myself. As any Ajax should! Rally your fighting men! These cowards will pay the blood price, one way or the other!” The Ajax raised his greataxe above his head, and roars of support and clattering swords echoed through the chamber. They continued still as Celos left the hall and made his way towards his personal quarters.

 

As he began ascending the great staircase towards the palace proper, a wild-bearded, hooded man called to him, and scurried up behind.

 

“Great One! Celos! I heard of a raid! Was it-...”

 

“No, Cephalon.” Grunted the Ajax as he marched up the stairs. “The Dragon still sleeps for now.”

 

Cephalon’s shoulders sagged as he breathed a sigh of relief. The old Magi had been a close confidant of Celos since his youth, and the Ajax counted on him for his wisdom and the support of the Arch-Masons. His long white beard reached to his stomach, but no-one was quite sure just how old he was. He moved with youthful vigor and had a stubbornness rivaling that of a Corebreaker.

 

“Thank goodness.” Cephalon whispered hoarsely. “I assumed they had begun a war when you were leaving.  It was the tribes to the south, then?”

 

“Probably. It needs to be dealt with quickly, and before the Empire acts.” Celos took a quick turn, and pushed open the doors of his personal armory. Mail, plate, and weapons in varying states littered the room, and the Ajax grasped a long-sleeved shirt of chain-mail. “If these idiots are the same ones raiding the Empire, it’s only a matter of time before the Elraics march. We need to secure a foothold in those marshes and keep the Dragon out of the lakes. We can’t risk them bypassing Argolid.”

 

“Then why didn’t we do this sooner?” Cephalon said as he handed Celos his helm.

 

“Because it would look like we were expanding aggressively in their direction. Now it just looks like us fighting some mud-brained tribesmen. Perfect excuse for their frilly nobles to not bother with it. Provided that we begin dealing with it first.”

 

“I’ll fetch Grum, Great One.” Cephalon bowed. “I hear he’s bored, I’m sure he’s pining to hit something.”

 

Celos nodded, and hefted his axe onto his now armoured shoulder. He would not be the one to allow Bythae to be threatened. For it's continued safety it needed a small sacrifice to Aganon, and these raiders would suffice.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The great Champion, Grum the Grim (who is actually quite friendly despite the name) is sent out ahead of the gathering army in order to convince the locals to the south to willingly become subjects of Bythae. Though he will no doubt tell of the strength, protection, and peace Bythae could offer, he is not above threats or personal combat to gain the assent of the proto-savages. Should he fail, Bythae's warriors will see that the unwilling submit by the axe.
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(tl;dr: Grum will approach each area marked in red in order to convince the population there to join Bythae. Upon failure, the troops will come in and deal with the problem head on)
-3000 medium OH infantry, 1000 slingers, and 1000 heavy spearmen will be the 'compliance enforcers' lead by Ajax Celos II (L:12, M:5, A:2, C:3) Grum will personally lead a force of 500 heavy spearmen to impress the local grugs.
(Grum Stats: L:5, M:12, A:4, C:7)


An envoy is sent to the Kingdom of Parajaghandar @Z3r05t4r to the north, for the purposes of diplomacy.

 

Total Spenderinos: 77,680 gold

Bythaens have great respect for stone, and thus more must be gathered for the many cities, fortresses and temples.
-15,000g on two quarries.

The horn is sounded, and Bythae calls forth its most brutal and savage warriors. Barely considered civilised, the Beserkers of Bythae represent the most ancient of Bythaen warrior traditions. It is said they perform blood sacrifices to Zok the Man-eater, vicious god of the untamed wilds, in order to gain his favour and strength. Frightening to many commanders, they are still a welcome addition to any warband.
-12000g on four units of Bezerkers. 

The accumulation of resources far exceeds what Bythae is able to use, and four vast warehouses are commissioned by the 'Iron Authority' to house iron and stone surplus.
-20,000g and 4 stone on four warehouses.

Local trade is prized far higher than the foreign equivalent, and local industries flourish when few buy outlander baubles.
-30,000g and 4 stone on four manufactories.

 

680 gold is sent to the mad coin-hoarder Gabaras deep beneath Ajax Rest, where he sleeps soundly upon it each night, and counts each coin every day. 
 

Edited by Catostrophy
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Turn I

 

Kingdom of Ratae

- Music -

 

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Upon his throne in Atran Rex Saleric stirred, his aged form slowly shifting as the King woke from his most recent slumber. Having failed to feel well-rested for decades, Saleric’s eyes opened to gaze upon the court in front of him, readily assembled as the pre-appointed time had arrived. The Lich King noted the various Ducēs, Magi and other sycophants awaited his attention. “Perhaps now is the time…” He mused, before he nodded to his consul.

 

“We have performed as last ordered your Majesty, the infrastructure is in place and the rioting ended years ago. We believe we have finally reached stability and peace.” he intoned, the man equally as ancient as the Rex himself. The report continued into the minutiae, as Saleric continued to listen to the man. A vision of the kingdom slowly started to form within his head, the people and the borders, the land still to conquer. Internally he began to feel a ***** form of pleasure, alien to any mortal man.

 

“It is time, my fellows.” Saleric spoke, as he raised himself from the throne as his powers returned to him, “It is time for Ratae to finally seek out its future outside of the colonies… Send them out.” He added.

 


 

Forests were cleared for new industrial suburbia, the undead work teams driven by their living overseers. Deep in the outer reaches of the colonies, land was cleared for more industrial development, the raw earth itself cloven to feed the growing need for stone in the days to come.

 

The small fleet of Ratae itself busied itself, ships being pressed into selling excess horses and iron, while two small groups of ships readied themselves for a long voyage into the sound, travelling explore far shores. A small band of men, living at that, travelled to the border city of Solarius, preparing to breach the jungle into the wilderness inside the continent.

 


 

Actions

 

Construction of 5 Boneworks [1 Adjacent to Atran, 4 adjacent to Itona].

Construction of 4 Quarries [2 in Corcius, 1 in Partium, 1 in Pergius].

Recruitment of 500 Light Slingers, 500 Heavy OH Infantry and 550 Light 2H Infantry to Legion I Ratae

 

The movement of the Legion II Lunius to the North-East of the Kingdom.

A caravan is sent north through the jungle with 2 units of warhorses and 20 units of iron to sell to the marketplace and Nictlacachi respectively.

 

[Mod] Rimor Aurius Siusutia explores to the north-east of Ratae, heading out with a small cadre of men, in order to pierce the depths of the jungle and survey the land for future expansion.

 

[Mod] Two pairs of exploration ships travel east and west from Ratae, following the coastline of the continent, with the aim of establishing formal diplomatic missions with the Kingdom of Luoyang to the east and the Nations of the northern tip of the continent.

 

Spoiler

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Red - Rimor Aurius Siusutia (Start point is Legion II Lunius)

Blue - Exploration Ships

 

 

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Turn 1

 

The Muab'De


In the 'kingdom' of the Muab'De, the capital city of Reveba was well-known.
For it was at the very heart of the essence of their soceity. The center of political intrigues and power. The culmination of centuries of  architectural work and generations of families and clans making secret tunnels and Labyrinths. To an outsider, it would be a very confusing city. One in which it was easy to get lost, as each clan and organization held information close to their chest. Amongst which were the various maps of the city and secret tunnels spread around it.
This often becomes a great issue, when two people digging secret tunnels come across ones already dug, or ones in the process of digging. Which often leads to a surprising amount of friendly banter and awkward sealing of the tunnel. Or alternatively it could result in a whole lot of people suddenly 'disappearing'.

 

This was why, one could easily move from the capital building to the rest of the city without being seen or noticed. Thus, one would not notice two figures sitting in a shadowy alcove,  both drinking from two big, rough glasses. Both filled nearly to the brim with low-quality wine. Which showed their trust to each other, if one did not trust another person they would drink water. Since then one could taste the poison. But then that would be extremely undiplomatic because you made the gesture that you did not trust the other person so you still drank wine.

But the point was, they were meeting together and drinking.
One of them spoke up, a smooth and honey-like voice, though with a slightly rough edge on it. One gained from age and a large amount of use. "The outlook is good. The envoy of the city state is desperate. You could probaply get almost anything you wanted from that and they would thank you whilst begging on their knees. Just at a few regiments." The apparently older figure (though this was hard to make out in the shadowed alcove) then looked directly into the eyes of his companion. "They truly are on the edge, I know you want war bu-"


Another voice suddenly interjected. One only a tiny bit louder than the diplomat's voice, but one that resounded far further. It felt..... high-strung. Full of tension, as if at any moment it could explode into full blown shouting or a rant. And yet this disconnect, between the quiet voice and the full blown shout was odd. Discomforting. It put people on the edge, made them sweat. Made them on an instinctual level not wish to anger her. 

It was certainly a factor that helped her with intimidating those she wanted.
One amongst many, which led the Arichnai to often bend to her wims. 
"Do not worry dear diplomat,  I will not exploit the poor city state too much. Some compensation is neccesary of course, for the blood of our men that will be spilled on their grounds. But nothing too drastic, at least not yet. For now, they will be a useful ally. One quite useful for future expansion to the East, the unexplored frontier. "

The little light that there was in the alcove, then lightly reflected of her teeth. Which were certainly not set in a friendly expression.

Then with a hint of doubt the elder man responded."All right..... in any case, I think we have discussed the most essential business away from prying eyes. I have got to go, much work to do and only so little time to do it. Whilst walking quite a bit."

 

The woman's grin only got wider. "Alright then, good luck old man. Make sure that the envoy is charmed and will do as we say, all for the greater good of course"


The older man did not respond, he just turned his back and walked away.

 

Actions

 

A commercial district is established in the capital [2 stone & 12,5k Dira]
In the provinces, several quarries are established for future growth [2 quarries made, 15k Dira (gold)]

In the capital, more investments are made into developing it's craftwork industry. [2 workshops are made ; 2 stone & 15k Dira]

To facilitate trade in the future, 8 hemolias are made. [8 Lumber & 20k Dira]

1kC is stored this year.

 

 

Edited by DoomedDM
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THE ORCOVAN IMPERIUM

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Turn 1

music

 


 

The world beyond their borders may as well have been the desolate and lawless place that the uncivilized masses decried the Imperium to be. The Orcovans knew it for what it was, despite the rumors, a bastion of discipline and order. Demons were nothing more than a tool, and like a tool they were not fearsome in the hands of those who understood their purpose and applied them appropriately. For three generations the Bram lineage had served upon the Horned Throne, and still the Baneful served, and the Imperium flourished.

 

There were always agents of the outside who sought to disturb the progress and unity established under the Horned Throne. Those who could be found stepping out of line, who spoke out against the conscription, who did not know their place. These were not true Orcovans, no sons or daughters of the Imperium would falter in such ways. Like all threats, they were dealt with appropriately.

 

When Ghyrald looked out from his window, all he could see was the order that his family had achieved for his people. Beyond the roofs lied the horizons promised to him in the whispers of the Throne. There was still work to be done.

 


The world belonged to the Orcovan Imperium, whether willingly or by steel. But expansion was not cheap, and goods were plentiful. There would always be those who knew the value of Orcovan crafts, despite the hearsay of nations fearful of its potential. A caravan was loaded and set out upon trails to the south-west, to the Astral Holding of the enigmatic Axians. It traveled with the sound of thundering iron footsteps, as ten Baneful left from reserves to accompany the cargo on its journey. [Trade Resources To Axians: 10 Stone, 8 Lumber to Axian Order. 10 Baneful guards.]

 

But there was more to give, youth following the righteous inclinations instilled in them by the Imperial Scholars plundered the neighboring and feral druids. These magic goods would be better in the hands of those interested in such mundane and inferior pathways. Likewise they were boarded up and sent to the friendly merchants of the Axians with surplus harvests and stallions, guarded too by ten more Baneful wrought in steel. [Trade Goods To Axians : 2 warhorses, 2 agricultural goods, 3 craftworks, 1 luxury good, 5 magical goods. 10 Baneful guards.]


 

 


4b6R6gmoLLVnOICGK0bTxUrFubpH9fpdhoXn8sAHNzd-J5RIf_Fc6idowE0EFY1MehPCd_OvzMREt8mzuLAkQyVDXsRrs3ils5bAtLFGaPiOLvtwfsIFkIKvHzeeYKupWSLq9DG1

Anard Folte - Agent Adeptus

Those who knew the rightful place of the Imperium were welcome to join it, but should they resist the march of progress and order, they were to be met with steel - by blade or shackle. Anard Folte was one of the best among his class. The missive arrived in the night, he was to head to the lands east of Tirna and offer to extend the security of the Imperium to the natives in exchange for their land. [Sent to try to diplomatically recruit provinces to the East. Stats : L3 C5 M6 A13 ]

 

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Elazar Hylfad - Magus General

Elazar likewise received his orders. Should those uncivilized tribes refuse to gratefully accept the invitation of the Imperium, he was to enact the culling of savages until only the obedient remained. For this purpose he lead his, The First Imperial Legion.  [Sent with 3,000 conscripts, 30 Baneful, 500 Archers - if peace is not an option. Stats : L15 C5 M5 A8]


 

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[Areas in question marked in Orange]


 

 


Imperial Coffers :

100,300 Orcovan Marters

2 Stone, 18 Iron

 

The Empire requires ever more goods, ever more commerce, to fuel its righteous works. The westernmost city of Kyrsel has been deemed worthy of expansion. The bricks are accounted for and sent to it, the artisans will be put to task. [-2 Stone, Artisan Workshop under construction]

 

The Third Legion Reserves are almost ready to be led, though their current allotment of Baneful have been sent out on caravan protection duty. By imperial decree, more conscripts are to be raised. More Stygians are called forth and cast into their Black Iron suits. [-8 Iron, -32,400 Marters. + 1,000 Conscripts, 500 Archers, 20 Baneful]

 

Someone must lead. The class lead of one of the Imperial Black Institutes is fitted for his own Black Irons, ready to take the reins of the Third Legion. [-2 Iron, -6,750. +1 Magus General]

 

The Horned Throne whispers in his ear, the people and the earth both must serve. There is always more work to be done, more bricks to lay. Or else those visions he sees may come to pass. The hand writes as fast as it can while maintaining legibility, the missives send out. Come morning four quarries will be prospected and set to begin hewing. [-30,000. +4 Quarries]


After expenditures : 31,350 Marters remain in the coffers, 10 Iron.

Edited by Garbage
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Kingdom of Parajaghandar

 

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1048 - Year of the Fool

Queen Geetika Sandijat's Ascension to the Throne

 

As King Monji Sandijat passed away in 1047, leaving behind no heirs but his sole daughter Geetika, the fate of Parajaghandar was uncertain. The people were uneasy, restless. The castes scheming and plotting, clearly without faith that this Queen might suceed in fulfilling the duties of the burden she has been given. Ruling the ancient and ominous realm known as the Kingdom of Parajaghandar.

 

Through the past decades, it has quietly grown on the Eastern bank of the Midax River, undisturbed by the world, for now. The Empire never held prolonged interest in investing resources in the realm that adorns the plains and hills East of its Eastern territories. Foes were few and overwhelmed with ease thanks to the beasts of nature that have been tamed by the Parajaghandari throughout the years.

 

But all this peace brings complacency and much of the Kingdom has fallen into disrepair. The Queen, young, inexperienced, unwed, but eager to make things right. With the aid of her loyal General and uncle Sojit Adiwal, currently appointed Royal chamber representative of the Warrior caste, as well as the wise mystic Duduit Gajawal, who represents the Mystic caste of the Kingdom, she was ready to bring her home to new prosperity. And with a tiny speck of ambition at her heart, perhaps even to great power.

 

---

 

Treasury:

 

77,650 Rupiah

5 Iron, 6 Stone, 5 Lumber

 

Actions:

 

Six Manufactories are constructed in the cities of the Kingdom in order to bolster the economic output of the regions of the Kingdom. (-6 stone, -40,500 Rupiah)

 

The ranks of the ranged combatants of the Kingdom grow notably this year. Training proceeds for 1,000 archers and 500 throwers. (-5 iron, -13,500 Rupiah)

 

Three quarries are built in various regions in order to prepare ahead for the increased infrastructural investments of the Kingdom. Parajaghandar is a growing realm. (-20,250 Rupiah)

 

The remainder is being kept safe in the vaults of the palace of Parajaghandar. (3,400 Rupiah)

 

 

 

 

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THE PRINCEDOMS OF NYRE

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YEAR OF THE FOOL: 1048 ACP

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In Susandars District, inside the Conch Palace.

The suns penetrating rays are what pries Amran’s eyes open, stirring him from his slumber. Evidently, he has some sort of intoxicating substance in his body still remaining from the previous night,  as do those who lay strewn in very similar chaotic positions as he was. Semi-broken glasses lay in their hands, half and quarters of porcelain plates on the tables, the place reeks of a putrid stench of wine, sweat, and incense. Curiously, there seem to be very lax rules on clothing in the scene, as even Amran’s olive-toned skin is void of his garments. 

 

He rises from his slumber, stumbling and releasing an exhausted groan as he foolishly uses a glass table to break his fall, his hand going straight through it, casting a blanket of glass shards on three women who lay on the ground in close proximity of the table. Finally, he rises to his feet, and carefully steps over slumbering bodies, glass shards, and an assortment of exotic powders which spilled in the heat of the night, towards the balcony, which presents him with an astonishing view of the Nyrene Sound. From his vantage point, he can see the crew members unloading crates of goods originating from workhouses thousands of miles away, the tiny sticks of rows rhythmically dipping in and out of the ocean. On this early morning, he was particularly fortunate enough to see the rare pod of whales breaching the tranquility of the surface. The fortunate ones to have escaped the predatory Imperial whalers, he thought. Not by luck, but he was also able to spectate the gradual mobilization of the hospitality industry. Housekeepers, cooks, maids, servants, climbing the steps, distancing themselves from the shared misery of their coworkers, and entering a world of opulence, bliss, and luxury. 

 

Amran gaze catches the eye of his favorite maid, an aged lady who been serving him since he was reared. “Gemekka!” He shouts, as the lady fumbles through her leather satchel for the key to the gate to enter the complex. The old woman looks up, squinting her eyes, and manifesting a warm smile on her face as she realizes who it is. “Amran! I hope your dreams have been more than pleasant! Ill rise in just a minute, let me just….” She continues talking, yet Amran, too exhausted to hear rambling, interrupts her. “Yes yes, you awaken the rest now.” He turns around, looking behind him. “A majority of the guests have decided to lodge in my complex tonight, and many of them from less-than mentionable backgrounds.” “Oh no! Do not worry, we will get them up soon, wonder why they decided too…” “Gemekka, today Adrahasis’ is coming in the evening. I will not be embarrassed.” He looks down upon her, sternly,  scratching his bare scrotum. Gemekka, holding her dress up as she stumbles across the garden, nods, continuing on a tangent, too herself, as Amran has left his post, retreating back into his palace. He bends down, taking a half drunken glass from atop a table, and letting it fall on the ground, the shards causing several to startle of his guests, who quickly let their head fall on the mosaic on the ground once more, returning to their sleep. 

 

Amran enters his own room, finding his bed occupied by a very fair woman and her companion. Amrans brow furrows, and he claps twice. From within the shadows, two men stand forward. “Get those two wastrels out of my bed. They nod, and grab the leg of the couple on the bed and yank them out from the sheets. The woman lets out a frigid yell and slaps the arm of the servant. The man frantically looks around, fazed, and realizes where he is after his gaze meets that of naked Amran’s, his eyes fixating on him over the cusp of his wine glass, as he takes a drink from it. The woman frantically leans over before Amran, and begins begging, before his feet, in almost pure desperation. Amrans feet do not move, as he lifts his empty glass up in the air, and a servant quickly takes it away from him, his liberated arm dropping to his side.  “Rise, who do you take me for, Aristun across the way?” He says, chuckling. “Both of you may go in peace.” He says, fumbling around his closet, and dropping a silk robe on the woman’s head, and he tosses another one to the man, halfway on the bed, halfway on the bed, halfway on the granite tiles on the floor. “Petition Gemekka on your way out if you would like any food or drink, I express gratitude to both of you for coming. By the way, the robe is from a mountain province in the northern realms, made by a Druidic monk, if it is of any importance” He says, leaning back against the wall, waiting for the two to vacate. The man briskly runs out, and the woman rises slowly, meeting his eyes, “You, I will expect to see soon.” He says, winking, as he enters his wardrobe, forsaking her, and flipping through the fabric after fabric, attempting to find something that can impress his visitor today. “Luoyang silk? Tacky”, he thinks.  “This, with Antekroian gems, perhaps? No, this is no brunch…Ah, this! A refurbished tunic made from silk found in the Avosian bathhouse, this will do.” He smiles, satisfied with his choice. 

 

He exits his room dressed, perfumed, and ready to conduct transactions. The palace is swarming with servants, scrubbing walls, collecting glass shards, refilling wine containers, etc. “Is the jade still scheduled to arrive today, Gemekka?” He asks, entering the lobby, adjusting his garments. “Amran! Yes, it is being unloaded from the ship as we stand here idle. I am very excited- “ “Good, Gemekka, I trust you to make the place look exquisite!” He says, leaving her presence, going out the gates to waiting steed, dressed in a purple and gold saddle. “If you impress me, Gemekka, Ill pay you an extra day’s wages!” He shouts, from within the chariot, smiling. She begins her response, yet Amran already nudged his horse, and it lurches forward, trotting away. Today, was a day where money was to be made. 

---------------------------------------------

-The Trade Fleet sets sail southwards, carrying nearly 50 craftworks to sell in the southern markets. (Mod)

-30 magic goods are sold to the western markets, on overland trade routes. (Mod)

 

- Adrahasis, of Adrahasis’ Laborial and Agircultural Goods LLC., has negotiated a deal with the neighboring nation of Etesh: in exchange for 80,000 Nyrene Gerahs, the company shall receive 40 Lumber and 10 stone.(-80k)

 

-15 Lumber is purchased from the Kingdom of Anteroika(-60k)

 

-Amran sends a finely written letter to the Imperial Viceroy of Guramkos, requesting a business meeting regarding trade prices. 

 

-Money begins to missing, inexplicably, from the receipts and checkbooks. (-20,000) (Mod)

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Kharak Khanate

The Great Sky spreads far and wide across the Steppes and grasslands of the North West, so too shall it’s people or so the shaman’s claim. How or who will be that guiding force none can truly say, but many a whisper across the steppes of Jungsai Khan. Some claim his lineage will be that which unites the Tribes of the Steppes, others openly see him as nothing more than an upstart. Simply another Warlord that will rise and fall with passing of time.

Whether either is true is of little concern to Jungsai Khan himself. He seeks only to expand the Kingdom of the Great Sky and secure a future for the families of his fellow tribesmen, seeing his neighbours as either allies or threats to the Khanates continued existence. Such as the Necromancers to the south, his Shaman’s claim angrily that their existence and abuse of the dead is an abomination and spits upon the honored dead. What he will do with them is something he will have to decide when he arrives there.

For now however the Kharak Realm needs his attention, for grazing lands and access to more resources are the truest and most immediate needs of the Khan. The mountains to the Khanates west held the most promise for their needs, so that is where they would expand. Turning away foreign emissaries for their ‘trade’ offers, he has no interest in the games of foreigners until the Khanate can exert its own will in the trade of goods and coin.

No matter the distance, their horses would carry them, no matter the enemy they would face them, and wherever they would find allies they would welcome them. For the Kingdom of the Great Sky was vast..

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Treasury/Incomes
Start Leftover: 15,000g
Base Income: 28,750g
Upkeep: -14,000g
Total: 29,750g

Stables (1): 1 War Horse
Mining Camp (3): 3 Iron
Quarries (2): 2 Stone
Usages:

Storage: Warhorse (1), Iron (3), Stone(2)

Actions

An expeditionary force of 3,000 Light Ranged Cavalry is led by Jungsai into the western state to explore the bordering provinces for resistance or native populace. (Will Post in Map Updates)

Choosing from amongst some of his loyal and proven warriors, the Khanate sees a new General arise in the ranks. (+1 General, -15,000g)

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