GrimBeard

The Valaran Freehold & Order of the Golden Scale Ambiance RACE: The dominant race in the world and Empire, HUMAN. Praise BE to ST. RALEK for ushering our race into the role of master upon Ilhder's landing. MAGIC / SORCERY: The Cult Of The DRAGON LONG DESCRIPTION / HISTORY: This branch of the Sedorvans can trace their lineage as far back as before the horrible shearing. House Valara was once a proud and powerful Kingdom, in close relation to the former Realm. Their coastal cities and rich trade fleets were veins upon which the blood of trade flowed. Perhaps their downfall was their riches, as they lost touch with their might. Heirs were few and far between, Nobles preferring to carouse, and enact their will on consorts or ladies of the night. Very seldom was a legitimate heir proclaimed. In this start and stop progression of state, the Shearing found the Valarans unwanting. It's rumored before the Shearing, echoes of it's coming could be heard from some. One such entity is claimed to have hinted warnings for the Valaran Lord. He never spoke of what was said, or the cost visited upon him for it. Nevertheless, it seems that even with foresight, the Lord quickly passed away. His experience never to be shared. All he left to this decaying world was a single daughter, of unparalleled beauty. A pampered and rich life had left her empty on the inside. But to all appearances she was a trophy worthy of the ages. Seeing this, in his eternal wisdom, was an older relative of St. Ralek. A man of legendary proportions, and closely related to St. Ralek's father himself. House Valara offered a way to bind them to the Sedorvans, but also give this less powerful and notable branch a leg up. As such the first recorded name to survive the shearing, Vindos Sedorva, was wed to Ilyena Valara. The 'Years of False Summer' predating the true start of the Shearing were one of splendor, love, and happiness. And then, The Shearing. Death, Destruction, Loss, Grief, Terror, all fitting words to describe this time. And even though this remains the darkest day for the Valarans, it's also paralleled with a silver lining. For their house was no more. Their child was a true Sedorvan, like his father. The ancient House of Valara had been left to die with The Shearing. And they had left quite the gift to their Sedorvan heirs. For their trade fleets, large navies, and ample resources translated well for the flight. Many of their Ilk and people were able to be loaded onto ships, alongside large portions of wealth, food, and water. As such in the six years of voyage to come, they were as well off as possible on the harrowing trek. Vindos, his bride Ilyena, and their son landed alongside St. Ralek, and many others of their family. They had survived, and entered these strange lands with a small realm's worth of power packed in their ships. Up to 9 AS they helped St. Ralek in his conquest of the plains folk, helping to carve out a beachhead for humanity. They take part in the establishment of the Holiest of Cities, Sendil. However while St. Ralek and his Blades marched to war, Vindos remained behind. He and his wife were administrators, not warriors. They helped the refugees flooding in, planned the cities growth according to St. Raleks wishes, and ensured a stable rule on the annexed lands. It was along this order of law and stability that Vindos's biggest problem arose. For a beast of legends, one to haunt children at bedtime, was terrorizing the Imperial Capital. A Dragon, beast of damnation, eater of holds. Many had tried to slay it, in battle and ambush. None had succeeded. With ever growing tales of St. Ralek's glory returning to the Capital, Vindos, in his pride, sought to match his relative. And so he, his son, and a coterie of their finest warriors set out. Hardened by the Shearing, enduring from the Voyage, and tempered by the years of rule, this brave party sets out for Torian's Peak. Named after the first explorer to crest it upon the Landing, this mountain invoked a sense of awe in the Sedorvans. Their first battle was Torian's Peak itself. A large mountain dominating the woods and plains in all directions. There was no artificial help, simply a rugged cliff face. Never the less after much loss they make it to the top, and the Dragon's lair....... Vindos and his son return to the Capital, alone. Held between them is a Golden scale, off the Dragon they had battled. At grievous loss they had managed to drive the Dragon from it's lair. It was seen by the pair flying far to the east, tail betwixt it's legs. Excited at this victory, Vindos ordered the entire wealth of his Branch to be packed up. Tens of thousands of refugees flooding in from the sea were rounded up to be employed. And so they return to Torian's Peak, at the head of a massive caravan. From here on out the historical tales of the Sedorvan Branch fall into obscurity and rumor. Using their vast wealth, year by year, a path is carved up to the Mountains crest. There a Fort is built, directly over the lair of the Dragon. The workers, vassals, and refugees flocking to Vindos live at the base of the mountain, in various temporary settlements. Every year they grow, in both population, housing, and size. The Sedorvans are often gone, off exploring the corners of the continent. And they do not always return alone.... Vindos, the first Wyvern rider, introduced this power to his people long ago. He and his son returned from an expedition, both mounted on their own Wyverns. A few hatch-lings in tow, they began to form their Retinue of the skies. For decades, a century, the Sedorvans ruled and grow in Isolation. Whenever St. Ralek calls, they would answer with full force. But besides that they simply grew stronger in their slice of the Imperial Core. Until the present day, where man made wonders and true power abound..... The Valaran Freehold. A place of mystery, intrigue, and Imperial power. All are allowed to enter, few allowed to leave. Right by the Imperial Capital, and within the Core, this relatively autonomous land has grown into a jewel on St. Ralek's crown. Ruled by his relatives, currently Rodel Sedorva, they are a bastion of Sedorvan rule. Like their history, very little is known of their day to day life, and composition. Perhaps the Imperial Council will be enough to draw Rodel, The Dragon Prince, from his seat. LEADER / NOTABLE CHARACTERS: The Dragon Prince Rodel Sedorva, Despot of the Freehold, Warden of The Vermilion Citadel, Dai'Shan of The Order of the Golden Scale, Watcher from Torian's Peak. From the line of Vindos Sedorva, First Wyvern Rider, and Ilyena Valara, goldenheart of The Shearing. Rodel Sedorva is a man of curiosity to most outside the Royal Family. His father, Jandos, was never seen by any save the Sedorvans, save for his service during the second Golden War. There Jandos was a force of nature, on-top his Wyvern Haxian, a beast the color of starry midnight. Soon after the war and St. Raleks isolation, Jandos disappeared from all. Rodel however had always been a far more visible Sedorvan. His entire life he has traveled across the Empire on his golden wyvern, Yenaxi. A solemn person, Rodel always had a cold exterior. But those who know him well, see the light and humor that lays underneath. He may never smile or joke, but the twinkle in his eyes shows Rodel's understanding. In recent years Rodel has become far more powerful a legend in the Empire. He has grown to an astounding seven feet, and is covered in golden scales. Rodel represents the Cult of the Dragon to it's full, a steeped Dragon Knight. With long hair the color of moonlight unmarred by cloud, and eyes like shades of the clear blue seas from olden days before this land, Rodel inspires many around him to fear and awe. And when the Empire's foes hear the leathery beat of Yenaxi's wings, and see Rodel riding her, accompanied by his Seekers, many have been known to flee. The only other option is death in glorious St. Ralek's name. Other Sedorvans are far less known about, and include; Tilea Sedorva, the eldest of Jandos's children. Unmarried, bitter, and homely, she lurks in The Vermilion Citadel, acting as headmistress for all the Order's students. She has always been bitter of Rodel's powers within the Cult, his Rule in their home, and his prestige across the Empire. TIlea had never managed to bond a Wyvern, and had only experienced flight from a rear seat. Jandos held her back from marriage as a card to be played, but never quite did find her a suitable match. Rosyena Sedorva, gem of the Sedorvans. A beauty across races and Realms, all can agree. Her golden red hair seems to be a sun rising, with emerald eyes the color of riches beyond material. Though young, she has become the darling of the Freehold with her charismatic nature. Her pet wyvern Savra, a runt who never grew from infancy, is often seen on her shoulder. Rosyena seems to be a living icon of the Freehold's banner. Darmon Valara, bastard half brother to Tilea, Rodel, and Rosyena. The only one of many to be recognized by Jandos, simply because he had no other choice. Darmon's mother was a noble within the Freehold, from a lower branch of the Valarans that managed to eek out survival. Darmon though quite young has bonded a ferocious Wyvern, and travels the Empire on it's back, adventuring. Where ever there's prestige and riches to be gained, he's there, offering his blade. His loyal bard is often seen on his dragon, riding behind Darmon. Agamedes is a silver tongued but odious little man, always sure to spread word of his Liege's glory. NATIONAL IDEA: "The Dragon's Home" Torian's Peak and the Vermilion Citadel within it are the crown jewel of the Valaran Freehold. A basket where all the Dragon's eggs lay so to speak. A testament to human innovation, this City resides completely on top the mountain, amid the clouds themselves. For an entire century the Sedorvans have been building this city, catered to their way of life. It's most easily accessible by air, with dozens of stables, honeycombed caves, and towers accommodated to this. Switch back dirt and stone paths lead up by land, for supplies and commoners. Catered to little real estate, the cities buildings are often stacked on top one another in progressively smaller squares and circles. This way of life has led to careful, and innovative development of the city. (Torian's Peak City changed to unique "Freehold" +Numbers TBD) UNIQUE UNIT: The Seekers The Order of the Golden Scale was perhaps founded as a quiet protest to The Order of the Golden Tongue. Based around the legends of the Golden Dragon Jandos defeated, to this day they keep the Golden Scale harvested from the fight under lock and key. These Wyvern Riders have trained all their lives, and been bonded to their Wyverns for just as long. In heavy armor, wielding elongated Lance and Sword, this deadly combination of Beast and Man is a terror to Land, Sea, and Sky. Besides being Knights of the Sky what makes The Seekers so unique is their magical bond with their mounts. From an early age they select a Wyvern hatching, and are bonded to it in secret rituals. Both beast and man have a heightened sense of awareness for one another and their emotions, lend strength from wyvern to man, and intelligence form man to wyvern. In a battle they act like two halves of one whole, working in perfect tandem to become killing machines. POI: Imperial Blood. Ever since the bonding of House Valara to the Sedorvans, this branch has been of the Imperial Family. In this new Empire they enjoy the recognition and perks of being related to St. Ralek himself. MAP LOCATION (ONLY WITHIN OR NEAR TO ANDUVIA):

A summer to shake the foundations of the Ynnish Realms. Just when the Corrector thought he had the situation under control, a bold stroke of history plays out behind his back. To think the non Ilesian conquerors stole a Relic from under the noses of the Ka'Gorans and Freeholders. To this day scholars debate how many were lost that day, while others argue Dahc won the victory himself. -Continued excerpts from Legends and Facts of the Third Age Word travels fast of destruction in the Amichai Kingdom. Having heard reports of the violence and subjugation along their portion of the Ynn, the Ka'Goran have begun to stir. Though they are a pacifist folk, they were not without their tools of defense. For centuries they have collected and stored Relics, and other marvels. In times of strife such as these, the fabled but mysterious Collector is dispatched from the Confederation. All that's known is the position shifts between the Confederated Tribes, and the wielder holds immense power. In their arrogance the Amichai put up a fight, and their army was crushed. In a remarkable deal, order has been restored to their hold on new settlements, with strict laws enacted anywhere Gorans live and trade along the northern Ynn. The Collector now free to act, he begins to look into the very troubling reports about these 'Pilgrims'....... The Knights of Ildan have become locked in a desperate struggle against Flastavio's Flock. Their smaller host utilizes their natural defenses, as they engage the raiders all along the river. True to their calling however, a part of Knights are dispatched south, their mission unknown. The Zorncost and Akim Freeholder trade competition is momentarily stunned into irrelevance, as word of the world pours in. To their west, north, and south, "barbarian" nomads have been running amok. Refugees with tails of death and subjugation pour into the strong northern Realm. Zorncostan Parliament and King issue a decree to all Realms along the Ynn, offering a central location to host ambassadors. The issue of these numerous Hordes must be addressed, lest every Realm suffer these upstarts. Angered at the Knights sent to the Black Army, the Kingdom of Camadacia officially condemns the Kingdom of Hausenberg. Another step up in their increasing race for power and influence. Word of a Camadacian host crossing into Black Army lands spreads, the numbers unknown.... House of Vrizia At long last the Knights and petty lords of Roland's travelling realm have been given the opportunity of their own land. Roland's warband eagerly settle, with very little words of complaint. Though the realm is founded, it perhaps is birthed under the signs of ill omen. Many of their brothers lay dead at the gates of Tamerick, and the crimson blood of Adon's Comet suffuses the very sky as they start building their holdfasts. The trio of villages have no answer to the armored might of Vrizian cavalry. Though the first town puts up a fight, they are swiftly dispatched, the survivors ridden down. Unable to even flee ahead of the light cavalry, all the villages submit one after the other. Though victory came easily, word of Roland's continues aggression is travelling up and down the Ynn. Already diplomats arrive to this new Realm, with letters of complaint. -1 Knight, 5 Light Cavalry The Dominate of Ayan Rus The men, unceremoniously dropped off on the shores by Cayens, well away from Bak-nari patrols, managed to carry with them a blow gun and a bushel of darts. However their journey up the river, filled with Bak-nari outposts and waystations, has been a deadly game of cat and mouse. It seems something had alarmed the Bak-nari in the spring-summer, and their patrols had increased. After several weeks twenty survivors stumble onto the banks, poison and it's weapon in hand. Though dismal in amount of funding, it's the start of what could be a true ring of outposts for the Dominate. For now they can cover a few cheap towers at strategic points, though here the fog partially acts against them. As at it's pinnacle the fickle weather can sometimes obscure the river. League of Serra The Black Stripes men make their way into the Syndicate, easily aided by the Don's experienced smugglers. Over the summer months they begin to legally establish themselves, careful to avoid the ever present Syndicate eyes. This process takes them the entire summer, trying to plant roots in a foreign land. In quite a shocking act, the village just north of Serran lands agrees to join. Most settlements in Camadacia were fiercely independent, or influenced by every Realm around them. This village recently has been suffering harsh rule under the local Town. This Town now turns its ire to Serra, stealing their small jewel. A raid hits the village weeks after they joined, ruining their harvest. -3 F Spirit Seekers The Seekers using their holy relic easily find the best pass through the mountains, making good time. (+1 Caravan Speed Summer Months) Even so their enthusiastic army soon outpaces the slower heart of the Seeker's tribe. The outriders and scouts reach the very edge of Ilesia, as the summer draws to a close. On the last mountain, standing solitary away from the range, lays a wide and beaten path far up into the peaks..... As they rejoice at having been guided to a possible Holy Site, fear is mixed in. The strung out caravan is falling prey to feral Gorans, distant kin to their own Race. This far into the wastes few others had the skills and body to survive. These feral Gorans, who refer to themselves as Ta'Gorans, are primitive, but extremely effective in using the wastes to their advantage. The closer they are to the last mountain, the more the Tribes seem to be present. Amidst all this chaos, raiding, and excitement for relics, it's understandable change was coming rapidly. Some Ta'Goran chiefs even demand to see the Spirit Seekers leader and rumored Wastes hermit. It would seem these greedy Gorans were eager to use any resource that stumbles into the wastes.... -50 Light Infantry, 200 C Diushi Clans And so the siege begins, and ends! Over the course of summer the cunning Clans prepare for a storm of the walls. They are uncertain if the Villages call for help was answered, but no sign of enemies in the distance happens over the summer. In a climactic conclusion, the Clan leaders lead their companies over the walls with ladders, slaughtering the guardsmen. As the Diushi move into the village, who submit at long last, outriders come racing back. With the first days of Spring arrived, so too does an expeditionary force from the Grosslich Reich. It would seem they had answered the call to arms, probably in a move to shame the River Kings, and exert their influence in the nearby Towns. Whatever the reason, a host is now bearing down on the Diushi, who are gorging themselves on the Villages spoils. +5 F, + 1,500 C/-25 Medium Infantry, -75 Light Infantry, -25 Light Archers. -2 B for siege materials. Pilgrim Church Smug rumors abound of a Priest kissing the Amichai Chief of Chief's ring. -1 Prestige The Village meekly submits to the Churchmen, having already been reached by apostles of the creed. They seem to be in line with the radical escapee priest, whos journey from Ill Horde slavery to enlightenment is retold with eagerness to the outriders. Lantan Realm It seems an armed presence has deterred raids over the summer. The harvest is good, the land peaceful. Herzogtum Greifenburg King Alberts journey continues, where he reaches a much colder welcome at the Town and nearby village. It would seem the Rurviche held a much tighter grip here. Armed thugs refused the King himself entrance at the gates, stating a land thief had no rights to enter friends of the Syndicate's home. They says this with fear in their eyes, as if they have no choice. As if to emphasize this point, a gang of street toughs in the recently acquired village make a hit. A local constable is killed and hung as he collects taxes, a clear message. Though of course the Rurviche arrange it so that their hands are clean, but their influence is known. -100 C, -1 Medium Infantry The Pilgrim Legion The Village submits, though rumors of Ka'Gorans and their actions against the Amichai are on everyone's mind. Word comes back of the Ill Horde raiding the edges of their outriders and caravans again. Slaves are taken, and others escape. It would seem the fast horde quickly used up their slaves, and had an aloof attitude to handling them. Some days they would ride escapees down as a game, others they let walk. -3 Light Cavalry THE CACIQUEDOM OF CANEY The raiders encounter a Bak-nari patrol unit, having been alerted of raids the past spring. They intercept the raiders on their way, chasing them off with light casualties on both sides. It was clear the Bak-nari navy was forming a network of routes to deter raiding, as their war fleet is rumored to be growing in the capital. The two villages are found mostly empty of fighting men, and submit to Caneyan rule. It would seem Chief Big Shitta, realizing the unlikely odds of a second victory in the field, had gone to ground. His legend is growing, as more and more tribals flock to his banner.

Accepted!

Adon’s comet continues its inevitable course across the sky, turning the heavens the color of a bleeding wound. Below the comet things are not much better, as Settlements everywhere begin to realize this new age seems no better than the last….. -Continued excerpts from Legends and Facts of the Third Age AMBIANCE FROM THE FIRST AGE [<- Click here] Cogs stream up the mighty Ynn, their eventual destination the Ka’Goran Trade Confederation. Though no [players] seem interested, dozens of petty lords know opportunity when they see it. After the auctions however, the borders are shut down. It would seem a CORRECTOR is being summoned, to address the woe befalling their pocket of northern paradise. Akim’s Freehold emerges the victor of the auction, taking their unknown Relic downriver towards home. The Kingdom of Lanta and Knights of Ildan experience grief, as a local warband [yellowish circle] raids both their lands. Darting in and out to hamper villages, and fisherman in Ildan’s case, they steal off with loot and women. It’s soon learned this warband goes by the name of “Flastavio’s Flock” A ruthless band of hedge knights, ronin, dispossessed lords, mercenaries, and other outcasts, following an immensely charismatic chieftain. -2 F, 200 C for both nations The Kingdom of Zorncost slowly emerges from their Spring council, building the foundations of their Realm. In a very rare form of government, King Dagmand Tus is constitutionally imbued as Zorncost’s head of state. This government follows the ideals of the 2nd age, and more recently, of the Lantan Monarchy, and Lenan Republic. Zorncost patrols are soon seen all over the river, and nearby holds, as they engage in a growing trade competition with Akim’s Freehold. The Ill Horde, smelling blood in the water, raids across the mighty Ynn. They seize multiple foreign cogs in a daring act. The Complacent merchants are not used to such violence here. The Lenan Republic and Petty Kingdom of Tear are hit especially hard, the cream of their armies being away in the field. -500 C, 2 F for Lenan Republic Rumors reach the various nations within the Camadacian region. Two mysterious hordes are slowly marching on the fertile lands, growing every day. Little is known of them besides their inevitable path. Volunteers from Hausenberg flock to the Northern Black Camadacian cause, if they choose to accept them. By and large young second sons and rich merchants, seeking adventure against their Kingdom’s greatest rival. +25 Heavy Cavalry if accepted. Across the oceanic coasts strange rumors and tales of seamen being dragged off to captivity by pale men spread. They are quickly discounted, and it’s acknowledged the rumors were sprung from the Bak-nari slaving ships. The northern city state boldly claiming the name Ilesia announces their vassalization of the recently formed Toran Shire. This single village has been growing a considerable influence, mostly thanks to the rich City funding them. The ties are formalized this year, the City State growing into a proper northern trade power……. Kingdom of Albarias Sebastian and his retinue encounter an overtly hostile Adonian reclamation mission. As the two hosts meet in the foothills of the Albarian mountains, battle is about to commence….. A circular disk flies into the sky, and from it emits the light of god himself. The two armies are locked within a searing grid pattern of pure white light. Any who touch it are burned, and it seems the Adonians have made their message clear. They would fight and die at all cost for whatever they are heading too, and now, Sebastian must do the same. There’s no time to see if the Village will join this Spring, as Sebastian and his host find themselves engaged. The Pilgrim Church/Legion In perhaps a move of over zealotry, the first Village to be approached spits in the Pilgrim’s faces, and is razed for their troubles. The zealots take it a step too far however, burning and killing the entire Village and Populace in an act of faith, securing nothing of value. Hearing word of the grim fate befalling the 1st, the next 3 villages on their path submit without complaint. However as soon as the Host marches, problems arise. Saboteurs have been tampering with food, the wagons, and the Host as a whole. It would seem these villages were far from integrated, and after having blended in with the Pilgrim masses, formed a resistance. -3 Food, 500 C The final two villages refuse to submit, having already lent their Oaths to the Amichai, who are similarly harvesting the Ynnish villages. The two hosts face off, neither having time to make a move, as Spring draws to a close. The first scouts to reach the village had all been immolated with fire balls flying through the sky. The superstitious pilgrims whisper that the Amichai have God's wrath on their side. -25 Light Cavalry The Ill Horde splinter group parallels this advance, eating up villages on their side of Ynn. A man within the Pilgrim cult has been gathering a following to him, after his brave tale. He claims to have escaped the Ill Horde slavery, stating the other scouts with him this Spring were taken too far away to rescue with him. He preaches an entirely new radical tenant of the Church, demanding they exploit and learn the mysteries of God himself in all his ways. The cult is growing around him, hiding him as he moves from caravan to caravan, preaching his tenets. The Spirit Seekers The hermit preaching southern expansion disappears, while the victorious one sticks with the tribe as they advance, smug. For now scouts yield no results of Relics or Knowledge, perhaps too far south. The Spirit Seekers successfully capture the first two villages with no issue in face of their overwhelming numbers. However problems soon begin to proliferate with this new blood. Throats are found slit, food ruined, gold stolen. -3 F, 500 C The remaining two villages are found completely empty, scouts reporting their entire populaces have begun to flee to the City nearby, to ask for safety. They have not yet arrived, fleeing before the Seekers advance. Perhaps one choosing to pursue can catch them before they arrive at the City during the summer, at the risk of going off the path seeking knowledge. Herzogtum Greifenburg The Village Herr Albert visits is ecstatic to have an actual Monarch visit them. For countless decades this village has lived a quiet life under the covert auspices of the Rurviche Syndicate. However that is forgotten in the village's fervor, as they pledge to join Albert’s Kingdom, provided they’re allowed the full rights of citizens in the Realm. A village gained if Albert wants it, perhaps at the cost of angering the Syndicate….. The Diushi Clans Hong Taos expedition in the wastes succeeds with flying colors, the roughshod wastelander village eager to follow him and his promises of a verdant promised land. Hai Yun’s march goes remarkably less well, as Village militia harry his advance at every turn. After a short clash, the first Village falls to the horde. But the second, encased in a wooden palisade, holds out as Spring draws to a close, sending pleas for aid far and wide… -100 Light Infantry THE RIVER-KINGS OF KORYNN The 2 villages and Town happily accept Korynn's gift, alongside that of Zorncost, and the Grosslich Reich. They accept none of the pledges for protection however, clearly enjoying playing the three powers off each other. A small amount of overland trade begins however, the seed of something more? +150 C A grand scheme indeed, few petty Kingdom’s were capable of engineering feats this large. However the confident engineers begin to gather materials, and survey the land. The canal seems possible, but will be a steep price in both labor and resources. After a brief field battle, the two villages town guard is smashed, the settlements submitting. This has caught the eye of local powers however, and the Korynn note a marked increase of Zorncost patrols in the other independent settlements. -50 Light 1 hand, -50 Light Spears, -10 Archers And so the Korynn and Osberht head to THE NESTS….. NORTH CAMADACIAN BLACK ARMY And so the first clash between Camadacian brothers transpires, beneath the blood red gaze of Adon’s Comet. A light rain falls, as the heavens weep to see the promised land of Ilesia soaked in blood. The bold General Grempesh was not expecting such full retaliation, having been playing a game of careful raids himself. The Camadacian millita clash with Grempeshs’s famed Black Winged mercenaries. A band loyal to the general, and ruthless in their raids. They earn their name by their cloaks, flayed skin from captured commune militia. An oversight the wounded pride of the Camadacian King allows, as the Black Wings get results. The ensuing conflict is small regardless, Grempesh sent tail betwixt his leg back over the border. None had expected such a swift and total response. No raids happen this year, though rumors of a proper Camadacian host being raised spread far and wide. +1 prestige for Officer leading. -10 archers, 5 militia, 5 cavalry The cash goes a very small way to restoring this archaic and complex undercroft. But it goes a long way with the refugees, ensuring they feel safe, are cared for, and warm. Refugees eager to explore, having no worries of shelter and food, find a small stockpile of scrap leftover from the second age. +1 M The Dominate of Ayan Rus The letter reaches the Adonians, but no reply is given. -15 C The expedition sent north travels for perhaps a few days, when they get the sense of being stalked. No sooner then did they show alertness, then Bak-nari women descended on all sides. Blow darts volley into the men, paralyzing them. Women clad in tropical animal skins and little else close the gap, fighting with fearsome clubs wrapped in layers of a shiny black stone, that cuts with the edge of a razor. Only 10 spearmen and 3 archers make it back alive. With grim reports of the rest dead, or being dragged off to captivity, paralyzed. It would seem the island is surrounded, the fell mists warding off raids on the island for now. Surveyors are seen again, this time with cloth around their mouths. It would seem they were learning, and studiously recording the effects on what seems to be human hide. League of Serra Some perhaps whisper the aging Don was losing his grip on things in his elderly years. But the actions of the Black Stripes and his orders galvanizing them disproves that. In a bold action they raid the warehouse the Capo is alleged to be at, easily dispatching his armed guard. Having perhaps expected it however, he narrowly avoids their grasp, fleeing to the Rurviche Syndicate with whatever knowledge he seems to hold. Republic of Lena The northern village accepts the Lenan proposition, terrified of the numerous warbands. When Vrizians, Flastavio’s Flock, and the Ill Horde roamed the land, it was more than enough reason to enter the rich Republic. Provided they get the full rights of any Lenan citizen of course, and the Village aldermen is allowed onto the lower council. Ambrosian Republic of Vudoa A brief skirmish ensues, as the villagers refuse to enter this ambitious Republic who asks with an army at their back. What happens next is an astonishing testament to Ambrosian administration. All the dissidents are purged, and their plan of resettlement and occupation is executed flawlessly. A now loyal and eager village joins the fold! -25 cavalry THE CACIQUEDOM OF CANEY The raid goes remarkably well, the majority of Bak-nari ships seemingly away. The village raided is full of women in strange garb, with pens full of cayen, and Dominate men. Rescuing them, they also gain 3k C, 5 F, 2 M. The dominate troops request passage home, though rumors abound of a Bak-nari fleet in the Stygoi river. In a rather embarrassing display of martial power, the two villages band together, and defeat the Caneyan army. After bleeding them for leagues of land, the joint villager force hits the leaderless light infantry host so hard they shatter, running for home. The villagers are led by a man growing in fame; Chief Big Shitta -150 Lights

Accepted!

Both Accepted!

Adon’s Comet rules their sky, a fiery red orb dominating the heavens. A herald for what we know now, but the rulers of that time could only guess. Some think the end of days still continue, while others hope the first spring blooms bring the life of a new age…… -Excerpt from legends and facts of the third age The First Year of the Third Age Music From The 1st Age [Ambiance] Across the lands collectively known as Illesia, fragments of once great lands persist. Humanity may have proven they’re their own greatest threat, their own folly. The shattering of the second age was proof enough of that to most. But one thing no one could predict is just how strong they are.. The Holy Adonian Order, though secluded, remains busy year round in Illesia. Expeditions heading from their fabled city go far and wide. It’s not uncommon to see their priest in villages, towns, cities, preaching the good word of Adon, their fabled profit from the 2nd age. Adon was a legend of old, a “President” which was a title of great power in the 2nd age. A man whose ideals were so powerful they echo through time itself. Far more deadly parties roam the wastes, seeking out the words and creations of Adon… The Bak-nari Republic ships can be seen by any nation on the oceanic coast. The Republic is sealed shut, never admitting or sending diplomatic and trade missions. Little is known of them, and it’s the same for them of Illesia. Their sleek and agile ships prowl the coast, whilst strangely garbed women are seen onboard, observing.. Nothing good comes from those near the Ill Horde. Already rumors are spreading across the locale. Tales of enslaved merchants, adventurers, even farmers on the frontiers of some lands. This quiet horde has been slowly expanding for centuries from a central point, eating up the leagues in precise moves orchestrated with expert effect. Primarily men on horse make up their army, always seen patrolling their borders and beyond. Now touching even the great river, raids on boats are not unheard of either, with the kidnapping of sailors becoming a common theme. The Kingdom of Camadacia, with competitors on all sides, has been remarkably tight-lipped about events within their realm. Their infamous King Odilon Langlois Descoteaux has reportedly been touring his lands, visiting each of his Great Lords in turn. Ever since losing close to half the realm’s size to a peasant’s revolt, the Kingdom has suffered a severe loss of prestige. It does not change the fact they remain Illesia’s strongest Kingdom. The Kingdom of Hausenberg, always the bitter #2 in the region, and Camadacia’s rival, has been hard at work improving their land for decades. The highly militarized and hostile society stands in stark contrast to the Camadacians. These crude, and brutal men seek only power in the new age. Anything in their way is trampled, and all within are subjugated. The Rurviche Syndicate has long prospered off this rivalry. This oligarchy of rich merchants dominates coastal trade in the areas, and is known to lend heavily to both Kingdoms. These no nonsense businessmen forsake war like the Ideals of old. But the corrupting influence their gold has, and drives men to do, is nearly as bad. Akim’s Freehold is the last true bastion of the second age. A massive complex wall dominates the majority of the island, made out of a reinforced material none can identify. A small but thriving harbor lays on the island just outside the wall's protection, where all can come to trade. Within the walls are various compounds, divided by more curtain walls with various buildings and farms. A central complex the size of some cities is condensed in dozens of layers of boxes. Known now for its original purpose, but it’s now regarded as the safest spot in Illesia. The Freehold itself is a multi-ethic society of priests, scholars, healers, and all the other professions idealized in the 2nd age. Any are allowed to enter, though under the knowledge they may never leave without strict permission. One can only imagine the troves of 2nd Age relics and knowledge these clever humans must be hoarding. More recently the Freehold has become a prison for some of Illesia’s worst criminals. Mad men who wielded relics to cause mass destruction, evil king’s shipped off by their realm, murderers who roamed city streets for years, the list goes on…. The Kingdom of Zorncost was founded as Adon’s Comet entered the starry skies for it’s first time in the third age. The Lords all agreed it was the mark of their King’s true power. Power they in reality wield, they all agree, as they place the crown on his head. He’s swiftly shooed away as the powerful Lords convene to discuss the impact of their new Realm on this age. Rich river lords, who had squabbled for centuries. But with such dire odds on all sides, they had slowly been growing tighter knit over the years. With reports of Adon’s Comet pouring in, it was seen as the perfect time to coronate the weakest of them. Zorncost’s foreing policy has yet to be announced, as the Kingdom binds itself together. The Amichai are a recently established horde, intent on nothing less than world dominance. Descending from the brutal northern wastes, they emerged poor in men, but rich in power. This exhausted Kingdom has stumbled out of the wastes, to find Adon’s Comet greeting them. Deciding right then and there to set roots, the Amichai was formed. A title given to their leader, and Kingdom. One symbolizing the power in them all, and in their influence. They openly flaunt 2nd Age relics discovered in the northern wastes, perhaps as a distraction from how little of them remain. The Ka’Goran Trade Confederation announces they have a big shipment coming from further north the great river. They invite any who can to sail or march north to attend one of their infamous auctions in a grand bazaar. They are unsure what’s arriving, nations from further afield usually sending the leavings of their scavenging missions. The peaceful Ambrosian Republic enters the 3rd age in a way that could make many jealous. Their grand bombard keeps the waterways safe, and their people grow fat and rich in safety. The governments well oiled administration ensures taxes are collected, and placed back to grow the Realm. Slightly worrying is the myriad of reports, all claiming Bak-nari ships spotted observing them in turn. The Spirit-Seekers are perhaps the only Gorans who’s name will strike immediate fear into the hearts of mankind. These pernicious and crafty smaller humans retain the savage tradition like the Gorans of old. A tribe to make Shermani himself proud, they lay at the very gates to the Northern wastes. The Great Hierophant of the Spirit-Seekers, Utu Gruug, is visited by two hermit Gorans still holding to the olden ways. One claims riches of the mind lay to their north, while other promises material riches to their south. The Pilgrimage has at long last arrived in the fabled lands of Illesia. Was Adon’s Comet not a sign their cause was not only righteous, but inevitable? The Ka’Gorans nervously let them through their land, citizens ahead of the army running indoors and shuttering the windows. But silence does not march with the Pilgrims, as they sing hymns and chants. Upon reaching unclaimed lands, the host sets camp to appraise their situation. Scouts soon report two potential threats nearby. The recently established Amichai are already sending contingents closer and closer to the river, eager to stake their claims. Secondly, a horde seems to be paralleling their advance, on the other side of the River Ynn. They offer no diplomacy or word, and indeed have already enslaved a few Pilgrim outriders. Those that survived claim it to be a splinter group from the Ill Horde. A horde whose reputation precedes them, no doubt. Refugees flood into the interior of the Black Camadacian’s freeland. Shattered hamlets, holdfasts, and farmsteads, all burned to crisps. A single name is on everyone’s lips. Adrian De Grempesh, a notorious Camadacian general. It would seem the Camadacian crown was too honorable to simply march their army out and crush the Black Army. Or so they claim. Instead they have opted for the usual way of conflict nowadays. Careful border raids permeate the border, as the Camadacians test the Black Armies defenses and resolve. It was not outright war, or a declaration of one. No it was far more subtle, men garbed as bandits, enacting wanton destruction. Of course both sides know what’s happening, but this delicate balance of power, honor, and ambition swirls deeper and deeper. Word soon reaches the Don of Serra’s ears, of egregious wrongs done against him. It would seem a particular capone in his chief maritime port was holding back on something. Be it gold or knowledge, it was clear he was outright refusing orders by now. The rest of Don Corrado’s flock are hanging back, eager to see how their leader handles the situation. Rumors indicate none other than the Rurviche Syndicate is backing him, perhaps an explanation for why he’s so bold. The Kingdom of Albarias has boldly planted their new Kingdom in the harsh wastes. A settled kingdom, they represent an entirely unique way of life to most others in Illesia. Little of value or sustenance is found in their land, a dirt poor place. But the spirits of the humans living here are the deepest of vibrant colors. They bear the righteous fury of god in their hearts, and eye the Wastes as their own. It would seem they had contenders for their own version of paradise, as a Holy Adonian reclamation party has reportedly entered their southern lands without permission. Herzogtum Greifenburg experienced their entrance to the new age with a stability lasting decades. King Albert in his steadfast way has ensured the Realm prospers, and thrives with every passing year. This year is marked with the arrival of several caravans, all eager to trade in the stable land. [+5k C] Lanta perhaps did not truly know how powerful a color could be, but Purple has ascended them almost overnight into an important trade stop. Already some of the richest merchants from Realms far and wide have sent envoys, all clamoring for their dyed clothes. It’s quickly becoming a fad among Nobility, and they’re willing to pay large amounts for it. [+7k C] The House of Vrizia has experienced perhaps the most tumultuous and thrilling saga for adventurers. Their constant rises and falls have led to an experienced and savvy band. Illesia perhaps doesn't know what it’s in for, as these Knights and their retinue flood into greener land. They find themselves with rich and open land on all sides, little of note transpiring to them. Troubling reports from the east however indicate many Realms are under threat to the Ill Horde. THE GREAT CACIQUEDOM OF CANEY experiences a taste of their own medicine on the coasts as Adon's Comet enters the sky. A ruthless war party of Bak-nari descend on one of their more far flung western hamlets. The entire settlement is razed to the ground, and not a single male Caney makes it out alive. None truly know what this Republic intends, but it's clear they view the Caneymen with hostility, being so close to their lands. Curiously, all the Caney women are allowed to live. None actually make it back though, the women being carried off into the ships reportedly. The River Kings of Korynn have experienced decades of peace, prosperity, and growth. Various Kings and their retinues dot the river in populated groups, engaging in fishing and their games of war. But darker undertones have begun to wrap around this people's lands. Like hidden currents in a river, trouble is knocking on their door. It was first noticed perhaps a few weeks ago, as the sky was growing red from Adon's Comets inevitable return. The water level of the river itself was lowering. The bottom begging to silt up, the banks becoming further and further away from the actual river. At this rather they were under threat of losing it entirely, the land being reclaimed by the northern wastes. It would seem the very source of their River was drying up, deep in the Davor mountain range. Worse yet, nothing but fell rumors circulate about the mountains, a place any river fearing King would not dare tred. The Diusi have emerged from the wastes hardened and ruthless. One does not last long in their ranks, unless they wield true power. Their current leader is one such man, and perhaps he realizes the massive nature of the task at hand. Their promised land could be over the next rise, or a world away. Though they reside in the northern wastes for now, there seemed to be promise of greater lands to the south. All agreed the north was inhospitable, but surprisingly, many argued they should continue roving the northern wastes for now. Some argue they should acquire wonders of the 2nd age to combat the settled Greenlands, while others want to set out immediately for the promised land. High Chief Tao has a difficult balancing act ahead, the paths both alluring, and dangerous..... The Tarnished are used to being the watchers, the shadows on the wall. But one of their newest initiates, bathing in the toxic waters, and emerging alive, comes running with a bold tale. They claim while they were swimming, they stumbled into a party of ungarbed women also swimming. They were clearly suffering, but powering through the pain, had attacked the initiate. Only through their training did they survive to report the incident, the women having swum away after being bested. Just days later, Bak-nari sails are reported, sleek scouting ships heading upstream. Women with rudimentary surveying gear are seen along the banks, taking notes, as others collect bottles of the mist, bringing them back to ship. They are gone almost as quickly as they come. But for the rest of the spring, their ships remain ever present, observing, ready to flee at the first sign of sails. The Republic of Lena's bustling trade capital is by and large noted as the first major stop going upstream, and the last down. Though some other small nations occupy the Ynn as they do, none have the utility and prestige of the Lenan port. For decades the merchants have ruled a stable insular realm, growing fat of tariffs collected on trade. Various pirates, foreign merchants, local war ships, and independent ships dot the large dockside, sailors pouring in and out. This porous Port is known with affection across all of Ilesia. However the 'golden age' of the Lenan merchant class is possibly under threat. Radical Captains of the Guard have been building on the militarist support that's been growing for years. They clamor for war, seeking to expand the Nation's power beyond trade. Perhaps even more concerning is the Ill horde just over the river Ynn to their east. Already reports of raided ships, and disrupted trade have begun to filter in. With potential threats on all sides, will this Mercantile republic hold true to their ideals, and keep the flame alive? [+4k C] Osberht awakens for the first time in this new Age, the Third Age. For now memories of his past life are uncertain, shrouded in blood and misery during the final collapse of the Second Age. He finds himself in a strange land, once fertile. But the river he wakes nearby is a shadow of it's former self, and villagers are seen grimly fishing what's left. Few catch anything, and soon to be starving children run over to him, curious. Osberht soon realizes he's in the River Kingdom of Korynn, but darkness has it's grip on this once stable realm. [+4 Prestige]

Both accepted with flying colors!

Accepted! <3

Accepted.

Accepted

Accepted. However POI wise I'm imposing a restriction. Can only look through the window once per day. Avoids abuse of it during battles, encounters, etc. Take any objections up in your Private Channel on discord. Accepted. However I'm imposing some restrictions. Zealot Fervor seems a bit too powerful considering that applies to every sort of military unit. I'd be willing to have it apply to solely Heavy Units, and a greater morale for all others. Take any objections to discord private channel.

Accepted! Though can I get your discord? Wanna go over a few things with you, and introduce you to our FRP community.

I write to you in the year 1090, in what some may call the fourth age. An age that has already come, one that has already passed, and is one I find myself in now. My university has always been intrigued by Adon’s Comet, and the time spent under its bloody gaze. Over one thousand years ago and still its history haunts my pages. I endeavored to document the world as they knew it. A book for people of our age to get a feel for just how grim the Third Age had been for humanity. Below is an excerpt from the first few chapters, detailing some of what’s known; -Jerrah Barak, scholar at Tzon University. A CD is attached to the book [Ambiance] The world as we know it in the years leading to the third age; All can agree the end of times was marked by the first appearance of Adon’s Comet. Humanity had been thriving in the second age, building wonders we can barely comprehend. Buildings clawed their way to the sky, and carriages flitted amongst them, unshackled to the land. War as we know it was a foreign concept, ruled out as an outdated way of accomplishing things, and long forgotten. Ambassadors and Government officials ruled, beholden to their people.Trade, migration, innovation, tenets that dominated their philosophy. For centuries the cities and rural tracts of humanity thrived, grew, and merged under this system. This ‘Age of Peace’ as scholars now label it, is in stark contrast to the time this book addresses. However it’s an important part of the history leading up to what we have come to discover. As the years passed by in their hundreds, things eventually began to reach a state of stagnation, even regression. This unrivaled era of peace was beginning to show cracks. No single event can be labeled as the true reason the age ended, and Adon’s Comet is only credited as the herald. But upon close inspection one can see a variety of reasons festering for centuries has slowly knocked out the foundations of society, bit by bit. Global trade networks began to shatter after plague on a scale never seen before ravage the world. Corrupt and autocratic politicians seized power, wielding massive nations who previously never even had an army. The world itself was changing, tectonic plates shifting at unprecedented levels, seas rising to flood entire continents. As the world itself and the nations began to break down, war was reintroduced to the world, in small increments. At first it was only militias, and insurgents, wielding whatever they could scrap together. But as more and more battles happened, deadlier inventions meant to kill were being churned out. It wasn't long before entire armies were pitched against one another, fighting across massive cities spanning entire countries. The scale of destruction outpaced anything the citizens of this time could conceive. Their technologies were beyond that of our modern era, surpassing the need for ballistics by the end. So though all can agree Adon’s Comet marks the end of the second age, in truth, it was dying for a long time. For a full year the red comet blazed in the sky, and under it, the world crumbled. The foundations of society had been corrupted to the point of blowing away as dust. Morals and Reasoning abandoned for profit and power. Nations of innovation and prestige traded for dying states, squabbling over everything. By the time Adon’s Comet departed back to the void, the Great Nations of the second age had ceased to exist. Their successor states, though vast and powerful, were temporary things, lacking the prestige gained from centuries of rule and tradition. Powerful minds sculpted these new nations, molding them to their fleeting images and ambitions. Hundreds of years have passed since that glorious time in humanity’s chapter, and much has been lost on the way. For war has never truly stopped ever since the shattering of the second age. The bloated successor states of old fought and died, and fought again. Over and over, year after year, piece by piece they lost the very things they were fighting to preserve. Armies marching over entire countries, leaving a wake of destruction. None other than the infamous Warlord Shermani himself was the prime purveyor of this inane and wanton slaughter. His infamous march shattered an entire continent, in his quest to scavenge and preserve technology from the second age. Billions owe their deaths to him and his army, and the dozens like him over these years. The world as we know it in the first year of the Third Age [FRP Start]; With such a heavy burden to bear, we now look even further ahead to the start of the third age. Ominously marked by the return of Adon’s Comet, people at that time didn’t even know what it was, or that it had a name. We look at a world so completely different, it seems unrecognizable. In terms of actual geography, and humanity as a whole. Entire nations, concepts, peoples, lost to the passage of history, and the fiery destruction of human war. Technology burnt up in the fires of mass extinction, architecture swallowed to the changing of the world. History for the people of this time is tenuous at best, the bold ones claiming to be successor states to the ancient empires, having no idea their autocratic rule is a vicious mockery of the old ideals. Human loss up to this date can’t be stressed enough, an extinction event worse than even the archaic dinosaurs of the first age. What remains are not even worthy of titles like ‘Nations’ or ‘Governments’. Petty Kings by and large rule in the husks of once great empires. Monarchs descended from families who gained power under a variety of circumstances. Some were just raised this day as the Comet appears, Warlords leading bands of entrepreneuring mercenaries and Lords. Others descend from somewhat ancient blood lines, Kings of old who held their people together through the ruining of an age and came through to see the third. Perhaps others even hold the republic ideals of old, forming small pockets of idealism in an otherwise grim world. For this was not a world anymore where peace and prosperity acted as a rocket for humanity to soar. In fact those very same humans can be blamed for the state it’s now in. Resources were depleted, especially for the primitive extraction methods of this third age. Rivers and lakes dried up into flatbeds, oceans offering a daunting challenge to any on its coast, and no promise of land beyond. Populations scattered across the entire landmass, eking out an existence in the few verdant spots, or perhaps even adapting to survive in this new age of scarcity and inhospitable environs. And of course all these reasons bred far more reason and justification for war. However this was far different to the second age, which rapidly experienced the height of artificial destruction before flatlining again. Humans of the third age could rarely pick up the pieces, or even comprehend them. Instead we find something far more organic, and naturally evolving over time. By now states were no longer reduced to fighting with bronze and stone weapons, after the technology of old had been exhausted and lost to knowledge. Steel and Flesh rule this time, organized and orientated to the feudal societies growing in the wastes. Gallant knights riding expensive horses thunder over the beaten dust of the continent, men-at-arms following behind in blocks of sword and spear. Prized archers string their bows and unleash volleys of arrows into ranks. Far more crazy or perhaps inventive kingdoms use unorthodox methods, primarily those adapted to the harsh realities of the world. Whilst more developed Kingdoms tend to rely on the levy system. Armies as they knew them were mostly very small, cores of veterans, knights, and unique units relying on larger levys to augment them. Perhaps a few thousand could be mustered by a single Kingdom, and would be considered a large army for this time. Gone were the days where millions clashed over massive targets spanning for leagues. Now war was much smaller, based on careful skirmishing, positioning, and of course decisive battles. Kings generally oversaw a variety of powerful and influential vassals under their throne. The Kingdoms were so small, struggling so hard to survive, that they were usually all a tight knit and intricate system. All this leads to a delicate power play for monarchs, trying to survive, even prosper, in this new age. There are few if any “Empires” or powerful Monarchs. Most find themselves just emerging from centuries of horrible endurance. Suffering war, famine, disease, infighting, disasters of unknown proportions. Smaller Kingdoms, petty states, and tribes of people generally dominate the makeup of the continent’s humans. The people as we know them in the first year of the Third Age; By and large a far more unintelligent and debased lot then we’ve ever seen in history before. Their ancestors reportedly surpassed the limits of the planet itself in the search for knowledge. But these people stare up at Adon’s Comet, scratching their heads and squinting in confusion. Literacy was few and far between, knowledge a rare commodity. Though it’s true some fragments of history have come with them into this age, most of what these people know is fire and blood. However scholars of their time were able to piece together some knowledge of the past. Though looking at it through the lens of study, we can see most of it is highly mythicised. In particular the ‘Empire of Illian’, a republic of massive proportions in the second age. One of the biggest supporters of the age’s ideals, they spread peace and stability throughout the entire world. At their height ambassadors could travel with impunity, considered a worthy addition to any Government. Their technology, libraries, and impact are what led to their name being unforgettable as it echos down the tracts of time. Illian is almost like a new ideal, that people clung to as the world tore itself apart. An ideal some may aspire to now, as the dream of brighter days, while surrounded by inhospitable wastes. Though we could dive further into this illustrious Nation, it can’t be said any of the Third Age truly know much about Illian. One faction we do know much about however is the ‘Gorans’ , a relatively new faction with ancient roots. They entered the scene some hundred years before the beginning of the Third Age. They were a people of ruthless and blood thirsty dominance in the days of old. A nation of warmongers who helped hasten the demise of the Second Age. A group so terrible they are partially responsible for the breaking of the world. Shermani himself hailed from this nation. Ironically, they have no records or knowledge of this grim past in their current state. After so long losing so much, their people had regressed to the point of a migratory tribe. With little knowledge of their past, and uncertainty in the future, these people renounced violence, and most civilization. Most had been scarred by the centuries of war, genetically as well as mentally/physically. There were people suited to the harsh realities of the wastes in between pockets of life. They grew smaller, far more skinny and agile, relying on very little water to keep them going. They grew into tribes, and continued the policy of migration. However they soon learned to pick up the tactic of trade caravans, heading from city to city. Few dare to brave the wastes, and these mercantile peoples were eager to seize that opportunity. The Gorans are now synonymous with wealth and trade. They can be found most anywhere, and one can consider himself lucky if one of their caravans finds them on the wastes. Pacifist in nature, they don’t carry weapons, or much in the way of defense. Their wagons are all brightly painted, led along by some of the finest horses the wastes has to offer. The people themselves dress in a panoply of bright colors, in a variety of intricate or simple designs. Most carry an instrument or good walking stick, and any are invited to their camps to sing and dance. The Ka'Goran Trade Confederation is their most famous achievement, a vastly rich amalgamation of Goran tribes dominating trade heading beyond and to their region of the continent. The Kingdom of Camadacia is what all regard as the bastion of Chivalry, Knightls, and Lords. A veritable paradise of densely populated land, thriving on one of the last true pockets of paradise on this barren world. Their King, Odilon Langlois Descoteaux, is a man of unrivalled prestige. At just the age of fourteen he bested the regency dominating his Kingdom, uplifting his citizens based off merit to form an effective administration of the realm. With such massive populations centers to rely on, this Kingdom has little to worry in the way of survival. This has led to a flurry of innovations, expeditions for lost knowledge, and powerful martial might. The Bak-nari Republic is a land and people of mystery. They have only arrived in the past century, considered new blood among the established petty Kings. Their ideals certainly aren't new, as the Republic preaches the ideals of Illian itself. They have engaged in no diplomacy, or trade. Any on the coast can see their scout ships however, always observing, always where they don't think to look. The HOLY Adonian Order is similarity shrouded in mystery. Their entire city is built around a relic of the second age. A massive building with a long funnel like contraption pointing to the heavens, on their highest peak. The Order has sects all around the continent, praising their messiah, Adon of Illian. A mythical deity like figure, Adon is worshipped as the best leader of men to have ever lived. His tenants are adhered to without exception, and the Order is always looking to expand, and collect relics. They almost live in a different age, secluded in their oasis lake...... Technology as we know it in the first year of the Third Age; By and large the majority of Kingdom’s in this time rely on very primitive forging and mining techniques. A mine for instance relies almost entirely on human power, with pickaxe and shovel. A forge could range from a backyard urn, to a more refined armorer with all the tools of his trade in a city. What this means is almost all armies are equipped with the simple tools of war. Sword, Lance, Spear, Bow, Crossbow, Javelin, Shield, Leather, Chain, Plate armor. The standard array of war in what we record as the ‘feudal’ times in the mysterious first age. Architecture and domestic society follow the same feudal lines, castles usually being pure utility. Towns popping up mostly are made of wood, and very rarely more than two stories. Horses, Oxen, and Mules are still the primary method of transportation, hauling wagons and rickshaws with them. Currency is by and large coin based, relying on gold and other rare metals. Bartering is not uncommon however, a valuable tool in the wastes. Though most of the world follows this lack of knowledge from the past, there are still relics of Power within this new world. Hidden away, jealously guarded, or for a number of reasons they still persist. Objects of intense power and human innovation that most of this Age can hardly comprehend. But occasionally they will figure out how to work it, and the benefits are vast. Most famously known is the HOLY SUIT which lies within the Adonian Order’s grasp. A set of armor similar to plate, however it fully encompasses its user, lending them superb strength and unrivaled protection. The suit however swiftly kills most wearers, the Order deeming them unworthy of its power. They seek a champion who can wield the suit without suffering it’s effects. Though Relics of Power are highly sought after, perhaps equally as important is the Architecture of the second age. The world had swallowed most of it, humanity destroying the majority of the rest. But every once in a while the stars aligned to preserve a piece of the past. Perhaps an old skyscraper, now a massive insular Kingdom. Or a decaying dam, holding an oasis for any bold enough to find. ----------------------------------------------------- APPLICATIONS Discord Name (If I don't already have it): Nation Name: Nation Government/Leader Rank: Description of National/Provincial History & Culture: Notable Characters; [VERY Important to have flushed out RP for vassals, politicians, w.e your government type is. Due to small scale of nations, characters with RP and Lore behind them will have much more impactful actions, will get events, boons, etc: Unique Military Units (One): National Idea (nothing strictly mechanical): Player POI;

Chapter Awakening [LXIX] Fell drums boom in the darkness Clink Several grunts follow the solid crash of steel on rock. Hardly able to see, cries of pain blend with the sounds of labor. In the darkness, only fog and rats preside. Columns of skulls can be seen in the faded corners of the vault, alongside hundreds of plaques. Where once there had been trophy skulls of Irik warlords, only dust remained. Clink But the human remains were much more numerous, and harder to destroy. Holokai, lifted to the position of an Order's priest, helped by swinging a pick axe himself. They were deep in the sacred catacombs of the Matareka family. It was here Holokai had plotted with his fellow visionaries. Standing over the graves of dead Lords, they plotted the downfall of their Stellarchy. With the coup complete, he had the privileged of coming back down here. Staring at the empty grave for Mokihi Matareka, he snarls, and begins hacking it to rubble for the factories. Clink The last of the graves have been defiled, the skulls pulled down. Men drop their tools, and then drop to their knees. Holokai stands before them, panting with exertion from the labors. His fellow brothers and revolutionaries kneel before him, as well as brothers from other Chapters. Their purpose was one, and this vanguard was but the ember. Once they ascended to the surface, the fire of The Great Purge will begin in earnest. The rasp of steel on leather can be heard slowly Holokai examines the knife, appreciating it's craftsmanship. Wickedly curved, the blade was clearly razor sharp. In laser etched script so tiny as to be almost imperceptible, is teachings of the Order. As drums begin to beat in the darkness, Holokai raises the dagger held high, pointed towards him. No words need to be spoken, the Chapter letting his actions speak for him. In two swift motions, Holokai blinds himself with the blade, screaming out his devotion to the shattered skulls and graves of faded Nobility. Quickly two priest pool his weeping sockets blood into small jars, and daub the Red Eye onto a silken banner of pure white. Raising the banner high, the procession leads their Priest to the surface, to awakening and vision.

House Matareka Actions Lord Matareka calls upon the 4th Empire to aid him in ending the House of Bones. After numerous victories both sides are readying for the final confrontation. The Irik have been successfully drawn away from the Empire's borders, and lay deep within their land. If the Empire strikes now in tandem with Lord Matareka, they could hit them from both flanks. He stresses to his Emperor this opportunity will soon pass, and be wasted. At long last the massive battlefield left over from the Civil War will be thoroughly scouted and inventoried. Salvage operations will begin at once when possible, the priority being battleship hulls. Furthermore the 3 ruined tech worlds will be surveyed, in the hopes of finding old blueprints to Arc Lances leftover from when Matarekan smiths made them. At the very least they will also see if the worlds can ever be repaired. The House of Suns is offered a non aggression pact to avoid further bloodshed. House Matareka states "An enemy of Erasmis is a friend of mine" Financial Actions [WIP]

House Matareka "Technology and Martial Might" Mokihi Matareka stares up, at the shimmering array of the planetary shields. It could be mesmerizing if one looked, even more so when under bombardment. Thankfully this world was not under threat, they lived in peace. But the Imperial Squire knew there was always a price to pay for such stability. Skyscrapers soar all around him, full of neon lighting, and teeming with life. These people thought their finances kept them safe, never giving a second thought to who protects them. Even on the border, the Matarekas had endeavored to shelter their jewel. Many wondered why money even had any meaning, besieged as they were. But the Capitalist market executives had a good way of clamping down such talk. Though the shield was all he could see, Mokihi was truly gazing up at something greater. Battlefleet Roko's Legacy hung in orbit above, marshaling for the past two years. While Lord Matareka was away on unexplained ventures, he had tasked his banner-men to rally the standing navy. From across the Stellarchy Captains answered the call to arms. It was true, House Matareka has been lucky not to be attacked for years now. But it was not Mokihi's way to sit idly by and hope to not be remembered. No, he would take the fight to them, to let them know the Third Empire still resist them. At long last, Roko's Legacy has marshaled in full. These men and officers were some of the finest the Empire has to offer, and have been tempered even further by 50 years of constant war. Just like their leader, they're not one to sit idly by. Morale is soaring as the fleet enters the hyper-lanes, finally, humanity is bringing the war to the Irik again. Mod Actions Mokihi Matareka sends a psionic message to loudly resonate throughout the entire galaxy. "House Matareka survives, and brings fire and blood to the Irik. WE WILL NOT PASS QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT" It is a call to arms, and also a way to grant factions the knowledge needed to communicate with Mokihi Matareka if they desire. Financial Actions [From turn 2] Building 10 Transports -25k C, 10 M, 20 NP 1 Destroyer -10k C, 2 M, 4 NP 1 AS -5k C, 2 M, 1 NP 500k Imperial Standard Infantry -25,000 C, 6 AP, 6 M 500k Militia 5,000 C 1 AP 2 M 5 I into House of Bones [Current Turn] Building 1 CL -30k C, 20 NP, 6 M 1 Destroyer -10k C, 2 M, 4 NP 1 AS 1 AS -5k C, 2 M, 1 NP 500k Imperial Standard Infantry -25,000 C, 6 AP, 6 M 500k Militia 5,000 C 1 AP 2 M 10 I into House of Bones

Grimbeard kills all the elves talking here, it's now canon.

House Matareka "Technology and Martial Might" His very essence melds with the stars at speeds most couldn't fathom. The inky void of space was lost to human concepts of time, or distance. Ever shooting forward, past glistening stars, and barren worlds. Searching for a single spark, lost to all. A slight tingling changes the direction of his consciousness, honing in on the spark. What was once a distant speck now becomes the flaming brand of a human mind. Brushing up against it, his consciousness conveys feelings of satisfaction, enhancing what was already there. With a gasp, Mokihi Matareka comes out of his trance. He is surrounded by aides and squires, dutifully recording the test. "Col reports they made contact, even with the distance increased" one mutters, the rest scribbling notes. "Let's try again, but far-" "Enough" Mokihi snaps tiredly. Sighing, he puts his fingers to the bridge of his nose as a migraine comes on. "We have done enough" He says again, this time more amicably. With a groan he gets to his feet, waving off offered help. "We should be there by now" He idly mutters as he heads out of his meditation rooms. They were nestled in the heart of Redemption, the Capital ship to Lord Roko's legacy as the fleet is now called. For once the Irik houses lay quiet, focused on other far greater wars. With the reprieve for at least this year, Mokihi was determined to get to the bottom of odd reports. They originated from a derelict mining world, one of many. But the rumors and tales were nothing but ordinary. The Imperial Squire himself has taken it upon himself to investigate, and who knows what he'll find.... - Mod Actions POI 13 is explored by Mokihi Matareka onboard his Capital Ship Redemption. They will follow the leads to whatever point of interest has been causing so much speculation. When not busy with the investigation, Mokihi continues practicing his Psionic ability as he has for all his life. He continually tires to reach farther and farther across the void to his Captain acting as a test subject on a separate ship. The goal being to hone his abilities to the point he can actually reach other minds on ships across the void, for combat or otherwise. 5 Influence is invested into the House of Suns. 5 Influence is invested into Erasmis's Domain Financial Actions Building Crown Ship CA 60,000C + 25NP + 9M + 2A +2T Recruiting 10k Artillery -10kC, 5AP, 4M, 3A Recruiting 1 Million Infantry [Militia] 10kC, 2 AP, 4M

House Matareka "Technology and Martial Might" A brief description of National/Provincial History & Culture: Once they almost considered themselves a part of the core. Safe, sheltered from the true brutality of the Galaxy. A pillar of technology and learning. Where any can come, to study, to innovate. Such wonders like the Arc Lance spawned from their minds. Sure every generation some Matarekan lord would lead men to battle with the Irik. But that was far away, on some nameless world. A far cry from the past, when they were the frontier against the xeno. When Warrior-Kings led their crude star ships into battle with an even cruder foe. When the Imperials of Kaumai were alive and endorsing them. Many reminisce for that time, that Kingdom. Regardless of the recent or far past, now is only war and death. When Erasmis first decided to return from the dead, none could stand in his path. With Lord Regent Ihorangi recently dead, all sense of order fractured in his realm. Though retainers and nobles tried to stand, they were trodden over. The entirety of Matarekan space was subdued, they became a conduit for millions of Xenos to pour through into the Core. For years every world became a personal hell, and struggle for survival. Every noble left to fend for himself on his private estates. It all soon changed with the arrival of a new contender. Mokihi Matareka, bearing the Emperor's Blade, and at the head of Lord Roko's former fleet, has returned. He gave battle to the various Irik clans, challenging many to Krull Vatok in his anger at Ran-Ji's passing. The Imperial Squire and his Noble fleet became a rallying cry for worlds sector wide. Soon the scattered nobles and their people became more and more unified. Matarekan space truly became solidified with the arrival of a mysterious figure some time ago. "The Bastard of Buath" Holokai Matareka arrived in the cargo hold of a smuggler's ship. Between the Squire and Bastard, they have managed to bring their sector into an actual bloc of resistance against the various Irik warlords. A carefully preserved pocket of Third Imperial rule and government, surrounded on all sides by foe. Notable Characters: Mokihi Matareka, Imperial Knight, Lord of House Matareka, Kavan Te of the Imperial Armies From a young age it was clear he was a psionic of note for the family. He was groomed for an Imperial life, diving into the layers of Matarekan schooling from an early age. Soon enough though Mokihi was whisked away for life on the Imperial Capital of Kaumai. It was there Lord Ihorangi hopes his nephew could truly come into his own within the Third Empire. Emperor Ran-Ji took a personal interest in Mokihi, at Lord Matareka's insistence. When he became old enough, Mokihi became Squire for the Emperor, and was brought under his wing. Schooled as both a Psionic and Warrior, Mokihi was something of a silent busy body. An Imperial Shade many jokingly called him, but he always as watching, and learning. The turning point of his life culminated in the infamous Krull Vatok between Ran-Ji and Erasmis. Bearing his Lord's blade, Mokihi attended the party back to Kaumai. There he stood by his unconscious Lord day an night, praying. In the final days, Lord Ihorangi's betrayal reached even Mokihi. The foul serpent wanted his Psionic family member as an asset for his evacuation. The Imperial Squire was misled, ordered to a remote world on the edge of the Core to attend Admiral Sorin. In reality Lord Ihorangi just wanted him somewhere safe for retrieval, as the Core falls. What came next was the death of his Emperor, a death Mokihi gladly would of shared had he been there. In the blinding rage that followed he was given a single ship from Sorin as a nod of respect. From there Mokihifound Roko's leaderless fleet, floundering. The rest is history, as a Squire became Knight, leading the best of the Imperial Navy on a quest for redemption. Holokai Matareka, The Bastard of Buath, Tanu Kavan of Imperial politics. A mysterious figure originating from Buath, he has taken it upon himself to launch a personal crusade. His ruthless rule as Tanu Kavan has all been to atone for the sins of his family and cursed mother. Every action is just in his eyes, and the means justify the ends. While his cousin plays at war, the Bastard remains at home to run an entire isolated society. It is because of him none starve, and the factories churn. Few know his true history. Unique Military Units (Two): Ahorangi Pikes [Elite Heavy Infantry]; Ever since even the steel age the Pikemen have been a useful military arm of House Matareka. They still proudly bear the name of their Ancestors when they march to war. These Heavy Infantry are brutal shock units, catering to close range styles of war. They prefer Arc Blades and Power Armor, a costly but effective armament for their tactics. As well as shot guns, smgs, and other close range projectiles. They excel in boarding, orbital deployment into hot zones, and acting as shock infantry on the front lines of large scale wars. These men are professional Irik killers, having fought them for centuries. In more recent years it has been their only enemy, their sole focus. These men do best when deployed against Irik. Overhauled Heavy Cruisers 'Crown Ships'; Matareka's own line of Heavy Cruisers, evolved entirely around the harsh demands of their survival. These ships unique trait comes from the Matarekan Arc weapons of the past, giving this ship a far heavier punch. Besides their unique main weapons, these ships fully lean into the role of budget capital ships. Usually having to act as the main heavy ship of a Matarekan fleet, boasting far more health. National Idea (nothing strictly mechanical): "The Imperial Knight and Squire" Mokihi is a [3] Psionic after a lifetime of war, and former tutelage under Emperor Ran-Ji. He has been called a Mind-Bender ironically, but not after the style of Erasmis. For his powers have developed into far more subtle twisting of the mind. Even Ran-Ji may have struggled to rival the power of emotional manipulation Mokihi can achieve. His soldiers reach fever levels of zeal in battle, politicians find themselves amicably agreeing with their Lord. In battle enemies find themselves confused, shooting at targets only they see, or even turning on one another. It's clear his life has crystallized his powers into something special, and it only seems to be growing. Under Mokihi's tutelage he has taken a new squire. A fledgling [1?] psionic, recently rushed into the ranks of the army in it's desperation. On the battlefield Mokihi recognized this child's potential, taking him under his wing. In a repetition of history, the once squire now has his own charge to care for. A letter: H

Daichi Clans Imperial Court Musicians Trouble stirs within the Sacred Forest, unsettling all it's denizens. The Emperor in his infinite mercy had tried to ensure sanctuary for all. Unfortunately the Sky Beast were not all so willing, and the bloodshed has continued. With the races over, the Administration has had a moment to finally relax. With Iwamoto no longer blocking the way, full action will be taken. The Daichi banners are raised as the fleets take to the skies to fight! Mod Actions The wonderful discovery within the Sacred Tree of Life has led to furious activity. Around the clock crews will begin to excavate the more buried segments. In areas already uncovered, scientist, engineers, and other great minds will join together to survey the lab from top to bottom. No stone will go unturned as they bisect the lab and record their findings. Linguist will focus on the ancient scripts, as their combined efforts lead to more discovery. The Emperor's tour of the Archduchy of Tyrel was one of memorable occasion. The Emperor's tour culminated in him meeting as many Tyrellan Lords and Ministers as he could find. He spends the time well, trying to gain friends. The House of Commons in particular captures his heart, he is known to spend many days there studying. So completely satisfied, Emperor Iwamoto Katsumore proposes to the Tyrel House of Commons and their Arch-Duke Kassadan for a personal Imperial marriage to the Duchy's heir. He warmly invites the House of Commons to send a delegation to his own land to begin forming a government modeled after their own moderate one, should they accept the marriage. It's clear Iwamoto Katusmore wishes to join the houses in marriage, and the lands in alliance, by taking a Tyrel bride as Empress. The entire Navy takes to the skies to confront the Sky Beast threat! Every Draker within reach is given the opportunity for another round of contracts. It's clear this time they can have far more leniency hunting, provided they pay up. The combined efforts will focus on culling the aggressive Sky Beast populations to levels manageable by local communities. The fleet sticks close together, protecting the carrier, and using their superior tactics to herd and eliminate Sky beast. The Emperor still reserves some hope that passive ones will come to enjoy living here. [1 Carrier, 2 CL, 9 DD, 200 Unique Akiko Air Superiority Planes + Nat Idea Augmentation] A new monastery is soon to be built dedicated to The Ways. It shall be nestled amidst the roots of the Sacred Tree, and dedicated to students pursuing Nirvana. In truth this will be the first Imperial sponsored school, for potential Psionic disciples. Agents will search the land to bring potentials back here, to be taught and trained by priests. [7k Cash invested to help] The 'Kempeitai' is formed by a direct response of the Mitsukiki labs and Oilgarchs. Powerful lobbyist, they offered to fund a Imperial Secret Police. Officers and men will be selected from the best of the Specialist Infantry, to be trained in covert counter intelligence. This 1st class begins recruitment and training! [7k Cash invested to help] A Freighter carrying a team of explorers departs for the POI on the western isles near the end of the continents peninsula. An area that has been a vested interest of the Daichi clans, they will finally officially explore it. Financial Actions Income; 75,950 C, 2 S, 1 G, 2 V, 2 L, 3 TP Selling 3 Steel. 3 Grain, 3 Vitriol to Global Market. 10k Infantry -1 AP, 5k C 6 Destroyers -2 NP, 15k C 1 Freighter -1 NP, 2.5k C 1 Trade Depot -2 M, 12.5k C 1 Civilian District -1 M, 10k C 2 Material Industry 20k C Treasury; 15,950 C

Daichi Clans Akira Branch "Those of the Light" More Duels, More Deaths Iwamoto grunts in surprise as he barely deflects the bite of a Katana to his throat. An audible clang fills the air, as he raises his own blade just in time. Around them a small crowd mutters in shock or appreciation. Though this was the most powerful assembly of Daimyo in the Empire, they too are dwarfed by the surroundings. For they sit and lounge amidst the Great Tree, reduced to little more than ants. A suitable place, for an Emperor to train. And that was something Iwamoto ensured was done every day. "You have something on your mind today" Tengre bluntly states with a chuckle as he back peddles from his failed strike. Ignoring the spectators who are at a respectful distance, he continues. "Is it because the Drakers have come to do the necessary?" In response Iwamoto grunted angrily, going on the offensive. Tengre always had a way of cutting to the heart of things. Ever since he had stumbled up to the Citadels gates, from the wastelands. "You know it is." Iwamoto calls out as he strikes once, twice. "They have almost been hunted to extinction. What if our forest was treated the same? Should we allow outsiders to come and wantonly kill what is possibly the last of a breed?" Tengre replies with a sharp laugh, parrying the blade, and shouldering into the Emperor. He staggers back, shaking his head in surprise, as Tengre calls out; "They ravage the land and people, it's with good reason we do my Majesty." Giving the young man some time to recover, Tengre regains the momentum and attacks, lashing out lightning quick. As Iwamoto backpedals and parries, he replies heatedly. "Just because man has taken to the skies, we do not earn the right to slaughter animals who have always been there. I will find a way as this lands Keeper. The Ways work mysteriously, we shall not be one to slaughter a part of it" The Emperor stops, realizing he was shouting by the end. Tengre, ever the stalwart, lay on one knee, sword sunk in rich soil. The spectators whisper among one another, opinions wildly varying. "If that is your will" Tengre mutters, still kneeling until Iwamoto gestures sharply for him to rise. "It's the will of The Ways, remember that Tengre." The Emperor says hefting his katana on a shoulder, striding back to the Palace...... -- MOD ACTIONS The Emperor dispatches a party of Imperial Samurai to investigate the mysterious entryway into the Great Tree. Several scientist, botanist, and one particularly good Bonsai sculptor accompany them to provide possible insight. A party of reputable Daimyo acting as envoys travel to the Arch-Duchy of Tyrel. They thank the Nation for it's proffered support, and warmly agree. More importantly the Emperor Iwamoto Katsumore expresses he has had a long vested interest in their way of Government. The new model blend of classes in Government, and dispersed power was something his own 'Empire' heavily endorsed. In Summary he implores the Arch-Duke to allow him to personally study and tour the land. Furthermore a formal Pact of Non Aggression is offered, and the Empire expresses it's willingness to evolve it into an alliance of mutual defense if the Emperor's visit goes well for both parties. Until the Arch-Duke agrees, the Emperor spends his time training with local blade masters and Samurai. It is made known around the land any aspiring Blademasters wishing to teach can apply at the palace. In response to the Sky Beast, the Emperor issues a proclamation via priest of The Ways. Being an almost extinct race, they are given sanctuary within the Sacred Forest. Any foreign Drakers must stop to be processed at the 'Northern' Citadel to obtain permits to hunt any aggressive beast. Priest and Hermits rumored to be steeped in Pskyer powers and The Ways are implored by the Katsumore to reach out to the beast with the powers of the Sacred Forest and Tree. To show the Sky Beasts there's a chance to live in harmony with mankind within the forest. Regrettably any aggressive Sky Beast will be met with the full response of the Katsumore Home Fleet, Drakers, and Tyrel aid. Though it is hoped it will not come to that for all of them. While the Home Fleet potentially has it's hand's full, the newly branded Colonial 1st set out! Their operation will be two fold, requiring two separate groups. The 1st leg of the journey includes the Empire claiming new land, on southern islands that were until now unobtainable. The land shall be scouted, in anticipation of a city. [Numbers TBA] The 2nd group shall travel even further, on the first ever state sanctioned mission of exploration in the New World. Their duty for now is to simply map the best routes, and observe the coast of never before seen lands. Far smaller and agile than the settlement group, these men are ready for the hardships of extended flight in unknown skies.[Numbers TBA] A team of civilian hikers, and climbers have been contracted for a state mission. They shall travel up the Asahi river, all the way to it's source. A mostly mysterious area, none have ever really bothered to follow the river all the way up. This ambitious mission will map the last of the unknown parts in the entire Sacred Forest. The Western Diachians are invited to send a hiking team for the sake of equality. [Exploring Northern River POI] Research Actions [Conducted within Mitskukiki POI Lab] Slot 1; Not to be outdone my mere Varnyan armorers, the sterling RnD team from Mitsukiki vow to unleash their own line of personal combat armor. Dubbed "KOMODO" suits they shall protect soldiers from even the bite of a bullet in combat situations. The suit shall of course be stylized to fit a Samurai's needs, and rigorous enough for both the trials of boarding and trench combat. Slot 2; REDACTED Financial Actions Income; 42,850 C, 1 S, 2 M, 2 G, 1 V, 1 L Selling 3 Steel to Global market 1 Light Cruiser -15k C, 3 NP 1 Military Industry -7.5k C, 1 M 1 Civilian District -10k C, 1 M 1 Material Industry -10k C Treasury 350 C

Nation Customization Imperial Musicians Fill the halls with a tune Nation Name: Daichi Clans ["Akira" Branch of Katsumore Clan] Iwamoto's Personal Symbol: Culture: The Daichian peoples populate two separate realms. Daichians typically are pale to white skinned, with darker hair and eye coloring. Though they tend to be on the small side in stature and build, this is not always the case. These people are as zealous and as fevered as it gets, making excellent soldiers. The Daichian's are no strangers to hardship and have been tempered by centuries of conflict and warfare. Despite hard lives, the people have a reputation of living incredible amounts of time, much longer than an average person. Honor and bringing further prestige to ones family is all an average Daichian can hope to accomplish in their lifetime. History: Inouye 'Akira' Katsumore was an honorable, and unyielding man. It's true many accredit more prestige to his Father, the great Uniter. Before his father's death, he and his brother, Takahashi, never could quite find even ground to stand on. Inouye spent his time adventuring with sons of Daimyo, even Merchants to all's disgust. Takahashi would watch from his Imperial studies as his wild brother chased loose horses, or conducted mischief on the guards. As the two grew, so too did the divide between them. It all culminated with the death of their father, the great Sagara-Moto Katsumore, the Dragon Emperor and uniter of the Daichi Clans. The Civil War bored Inouye for a long time, and he focused little of his writings on it. What was important to him was what he was building; For the Akira Branch of the Katsumore Family is a blend of old and new. Though Inouye claimed to be Emperor like his brother, he never truly filled the role with as much zeal. He and his extremely reputable coterie of Daimyo tended to share the power and responsibility of state. Champions, legendary lords, wealthy merchants, reputable Samurai, they all flocked to Inouye's banner, for he offered equal treatment and opportunity. By the time the final duel of the Brothers came to be, the Akira Branch is a wealthy, yet de-centralized state. With Inouye's death, the mantel now falls on Iwamoto Katsumore. Only twenty one years of age, he strength relies on clan holdings, and his Father's powerful array of Daimyo lords. Some saw the death as opportunity, and Iwamoto's first years of rule revolved around reigning in his disloyal lords. Now only time will tell if this 'Emperor' and his council of Daimyo can adapt and survive. Unique Military Units (Max 3): Battle Carriers [Unique "Support" Carrier]; The Daichi always believe in getting as much use as one can out of their tools, slaves, and women. Battle Carriers are an entirely new, and unique breed of Airship that solely the Daichi can claim. Though classified as Support Carriers, these airships are also outfitted for Ship to Ship engagements. Massively Up-armored, Battle Carriers are designed to join in on the fighting and deploy strategic fighters/bombers, all the while engaging with their main guns at relatively close range. This ensures it is a very short trip for the air wings launching into battle, able to scramble right into the fight. In the colonial game these ships also excel. Requiring very little supporting wings, these ships can police large spans of colonial territory. Able to carry aerial wings and a marine compliment. But also carry it's own weight in a fight, these ships make the ideal aggressive Airship the Clans need. Mitsukiki 0-A1 Aeroplanes. [Unique Air Superiority Fighter]; The Mitsukiki industries outdid themselves with the launch of this new line of Aeroplanes. The Dragons or 0's as they're being called are built for the purpose of dominating the skies in Fighter Vs Fighter engagements. The frames themselves are designed with the intention of evolution as Aerial technology rapidly unfolds. Alongside adaptability, what makes theses planes so special is their complex Vitriol engines and 'Dragon Lances'. Taking what's meant for entire Airships and downsizing it to an Aeroplane was no easy task. But these engines offer incredible burst of speed, and climbing for the 0's. Some have even used these incredible burst of speed as a final action, sparking the first hints of a 'Kamikaze' Pilot. While dedicated to dogfights primarily, every 0's frame is outfitted to hold one long specially designed torpedo. It's weight, size, and all other specs are heavily reduced to allow the planes to still perform optimally. Alone one Lance couldn't do too much damage against an Airship unless expertly placed. But entire flights of 0's trained to unleash volleys can result in devastating effects for an Airship underestimating these fighters. Imperial Ronin [Unique Specialist Infantry]; Soldiers similar to their Western Daichi counterpart, yet also different. These elite Ronin Samurai are the finest in the all of Iwamoto's holdings. These men are fanatic zealots, typically wielding close range weapons for increased shock. Most famously, they are known for the deadly Katana, versions modified for trench warfare easily shearing through flesh and armor alike. Excelling in trench warfare as shock infantry, these soldiers have also expanded their operations with the advent of Aerial war. Now it is rumored some classes teach operations conducted not on land, but in the skies themselves. A true Samurai now finds his blade will be best used in the clouds, high above the mud and guts of regular war. National Idea: "Vitriol Airsmith Masters" Airships of the Clan are unlike any other line or model thanks to the expert Aerial craftsmen of the Empire. Quite like the Airsmiths of The Bound Constellation, these airships are structurally overhauled and dedicated. Where some revere stealth, the Empire has opted for straight forward power and armor. Clan ships engines and frames are uniquely made to handle far larger amounts of armor, some of it even sloped craftily to deflect, and bigger engines specifically designed to power these ships for long terms, or short burst of speed in battle. This also allows for boarding to be much easier at the close ranges for the legions of trained Ronin Samurai. Point of Interest: Mitsukiki R&D Factory With the explosion of technology, the Diachian's find themselves nearly at the forefront of innovation, evolution, and development. Already their Airships can be qualified as a breed on it's own. Truly a Beacon of Innovation, Mitsukiki Motors is the crown jewel of that claim. A nation spanning Company they make everything from toy cars to engines capable of lifting an Up-Armored Dreadnought. Their newest line of Fighters is quite possibly the envy of the world. To Accommodate all this progress they have gradually built up a Factorial Lab custom tailored to go hand in hand with their researching needs. This state of the art lab is where all the new motors are designed, tested, and implemented. From this Factory and Lab knowledge pours out into the entire land, enriching them all. National Traits: Naval Focus Agrarian State Beacon of Innovation Deficiency; Grain Air Power Carrier Doctrine Colonial Economic Focus Map Location:

Maritime Federal Commonwealth New Prospect, city of dreams! Any hour of the day come experience a city that doesn't rest. The people live cheek and jowl, in a host of state of the art housing. Stunning vistas along the coast, witness the dockside hoors perform daring maneuvers right in port. The bazaars and restaurants on the docks not to your fancy? Well head further into this jungle, and see what you find! A Westmarkian con man sneezing over some Tsarinas? A ritzy Munzenberger, singing in his home language as he drunkenly shimmies down the street. Come to the swing clubs, and find any number of exotic women waiting to serve YOU! The church says it's the city of sin, we say it's the city of wins. -Traveler's Guide to The Commonwealth; Pg 4 part III "Unsavory Savoring of The Capital!" Not far from the capital, there lies a less traveled section of the Great Road. On it’s side is a ramshackle little wooden fort. Not even worthy of palisades, it has simple earthen ramparts. Hardly a glorious posting for a general, but someone had to keep an eye on the roads. For it’s here Brigadier General Charlie Sullivan finds himself. With hardly a fight to go around, it seems the Commonwealth is struggling to find it’s Officer cadre postings. He was resolute not to take the duty lightly, no matter how boring. Making the most of it Sullivan brings his entire command staff, and some Rangers. They made the camp as orderly as they could, cracking the garrison into shape. There were even a few sharp skirmishes, the sounds echoing back to the fort. Just a few highwaymen, easy prey for Redding Rangers. Unusual long range missions head out, wagons in tow full of supplies for the men. This pattern has played out most of the winter, the Roads iced over. With the arrival of Spring, travel has picked up significantly. One of the first arrivals is a messenger thundering up to the Fort. Dismounting, he lets some privates lead the lathered horse away. He pauses, straightening his jacket and breathing deep. Then with a nod from the sentry’s he’s allowed into Sullivan's headquarters after being led past the palisades. “Get me another damn barrel! I don’t care how m-” The voice cuts off as they notice the new arrival. Corporal Sam Mays gulps nervously, taking in the sight. A red faced General Charles was looming over a poor beleaguered Quartermaster. Behind them were several barrels of wine, stacked up neatly. “Leave” The General barks at the Quartermaster, noticing Sam’s Federal Courier Insignia. A lofty position for up and coming recruits, younger men are given the honor before they properly enter the Army. Sullivan pulls out his chair and sits, motioning for Sam to do the same. He picks it up, from where the Quartermaster knocked it over on his flight out. “Made me bust my ass an entire winter out here.” Sullivan grumbles. Corporal Mays looks from the general to the wine, skeptical. However he ignores the comment, and clears his throat before saying. “Erhm Sir, I don’t know what General you expected to hear from. But I bring word from the Prime Minister himself.” Sam pauses. As if the message confused him. Grumbling, Sullivan plows over whatever question he’s about to ask. “Just tell me what he wants me to drink” “The Wine, Sir” He says with a sigh as General Sullivan cackles. “You know what I see, Cooke?” said President Harriman, a smoldering cigar snatched between two fingers as he stood atop the marble, third floor balcony of his island manor. “The mainland, Mister President?” asked Cooke skeptically. Cooke had long been majordome of Harriman’s household, serving two generations before him. Harriman valued the old man’s wisdom, knowing more about his father than he, sometimes. His father too was a politician, serving a respectable tenure as governor of New Vernon. Though, Harriman Jr.’s ascent to the presidency had been unprecedented, as he captivated crowds of young men and women, with promises of a better tomorrow. Though, how about today? Harriman wondered. Sure, he could steer clear of conflict and leverage the Commonwealth’s markets to forge strong ties to the Broken Coast- but no President had ever been remembered for preventing wars, rather the wars they executed. This has always lingered on Harriman’s mind, as he turned towards Cooke. “I see potential, Mister Cooke. I see lands who have been too long shackled to the whims of the few. I see many souls barred from participation in government, by nature of their lowly birth.” “The status quo for countless centuries, Mister President. The Broken Coast is a cruel place.” “Cruel, yes.” Harriman contemplates, gazing towards the sound. “Lost? No. I cannot give the people of the Broken Coast freedom. But I can certainly provide an environment in which they aspire.” “You there!” screams the foreman at a lone worker. His face is stained a charcoal gray, along with the faces of all of the rest of the workers scrambling through grinding conveyor belts and raging infernos within furnaces. “Don’t just stand there, grab a broom!” He says, pointing at a decrepit, stale broom which looked as if it had been years since it merely touched. “And clean your face, look a bit presentable for the big boss will ya?” The worker gets tossed a towel, that in its prime had been a woolly white, its fibers now ever-more permeated with the gray-scale particulates of the steel industry. He buries his face in the rag, as an escape from the chaotic reality around him. His shift had started only 2 hours ago. By now, he ought to be pouring the molten alloys into their molds, for the next godforsaken man in the chain. Now, Joseph Winthrop is visiting? Why this mill, out of all the rest? “The hell are you doing, sleeping? I told you to get the broom!” The serenity he created within the towel abruptly ends, as it's yanked from his hand, and then it's used to berate him in the direction of the broom. Foreman has never been like this, his consciousness retorts. Nonetheless, his hands grip the cracked wooden shaft of the broom, and he begins maneuvering the small depositions of ash and dirt that are commonplace on the stone floor of the mill. That is until the orchestral harmony of hammer swinging, grunting, and the metallic cringe of saws penetrating sheets of iron stop. The hums of voices decrescendos into silence, and the unstill, soiled heads of the employees stop moving, turning, and bobbing. The only thing audible is the growls of the famished furnace, and the whir of the machinery around them. At the entrance of the mill, a group of people. Well dressed, and groomed, a stark contrast between the men in the mill. They all have on expensive dress suits from Barkum and Brothers, a prestigious tailor operating only in the capitol, providing the suits for many of the politicians of the Republic. Some have flimsy monocles they prop up to their eyes with soft, delicate hands. Others, long top hats, made with furs caught in the countryside. Some, bear elaborate mustaches, gelled up and maintained. The man of the hour, though, lies in the center of the group, flanked by the rest. He is a stout man, with a long defining beard. He has a hat, which he promptly removes as he enters the mill, exposing a balding head. His eyes briefly survey the cimmerian faces of those before him. The white of their eyes, and the resplendent blue and green glows of their pupils, being the brightest and most noticeable features in the bleak factory. The employees wait for something to happen. Beady eyed, this is the closest experience many of them will ever have with true wealth. Will he speak? Will he smile? The richest man in the nation, before us. Perhaps he will give us the day off? The men at the entrance murmur amongst themselves, but Winthrop continues to glare, seemingly judging the men. Disgust overtakes his face, as he procures a silk, gold engraved handkerchief from one of his pockets, and covers his nose and mouth with it. He turns heel, and trots out of sight of the entrance, and the workers. And with that, life returns to the mill, and the music of the industrial symphony begins to fill the air once again, as it always had, for the last 17 years the mill has been in operation. Research; The Commonwealth seems invigorated by the possibility the Westerveld "Train" offers. They seek to emulate it's splendor, heading to the boards. Dedicated teams guided by a Development and Research Committee crack their knuckles and dive right in. Westerveld itself is asked if they will hep their democratic cousin in this innovation! A generous favor would certainly be owed to them after. Mod Actions Concordat Envoys are invited to the Capital of New Prospect by Prime Minister Issac Edwards. The Church is asked if they wish the rights to build a museum/chapel within the Capital of New prospect. A city where real estate is prime, it's a high honor. The city planners hope it can be accessible to all members of the public, to pray, and witness the history of The Outsiders. It's made clear this is a more private venture, not Federally endorsed or funded. Instead petitioned by dozens of City representatives, Ministers in the city, wealthy faithful, and hundreds of common citizens. It's hoped eventually a Federal grant would also be issued to further fund whatever the Church invest. The first ever Global Fair is announced, to be hosted by the bustling Commonwealth! In a years time nations across the world are invited to attend. Within the fair nations are asked to show off their latest technology, gadgets, artifacts, anything they deem useful enough to show off for prestige. There will be festivals, a grand prize for the winner of the Fair's best invention, and even hints of a Race and contest of sports! Any citizens fleeing from the Kemp civil war's aftermath are allowed into The Commonwealth on strict protocols. Soldiers will detain refugees at the border, for a week long screening process. Any deemed safe to live in The Commonwealth are allowed the chance to earn citizenship provided they work. Any Nobles fleeing will be far more discreetly taken, and held in safe houses for the President to review. Finance Actions Boosting M production. 58,900 total income -11,000 C, 4 M (x2 Foundry) -28,000 C, 14 M (x14 Manufactory) -4,500 C (x3 Transports) -5,000 C, 10 S (x5 Medium Infantry) 400 C, 16 S, 22 GP, 8 F treasury

Application to Join Group Name: 'Lost Platoon' Starting Point allocation; Manpower: 3 Supplies: 4 Weapons: 3 Starting Location: Jamestown Island, off the city of Newport. [Don't have map editor atm.] The Lost Platoon is the 30 survivors of Platoon D, 2nd Company, 401st Special Forces Response Regiment. The S.F.R.R for short was a patch work of any highly trained and available military member lumped together. In the later months of the infection they were all that was left of the U.S Spec ops. While the regular army fought and died in massive battles with infected hordes, the 401st worked behind the scenes. They were the ones forced to deal with wiping out entire populaces as containment. All that is in the past now, D Platoon is simply trying to survive. They comprise several special forces members, and a large amount of marines, naval officers, and red cross liaisons. The Platoon finds itself trapped on Jamestown island, after a failed attempt to find proper vessles.