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About Zanderaw

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    Protector of Salvus
  • Birthday 12/21/1995

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  1. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP]

    Surya 1508 I got nothing, maybe next week! Just imagine a fine piece of RP here, describing the Suryans as what they are: the greatest people on the planet. I feel only pity for those not born in my island paradise. --------- Economy Expenditure (65,500 Gold + 6,000 Saved) Routine agriculture expansion. [2 farms; 10,000 gold] The Suryan people demand living space, and they forever push the frontier. It is their manifest destiny to control all of Pratyush and Chandra, and so a new settlement arises in the newly-explored territory. [Settlement; 5,000 gold] The riches of half a continent flow through Surya’s gates, and on the capital island a thriving economy blossoms. The sacred city is quickly becoming the center of a wealthy and expansive realm. [7 Factories; 52,500 gold] The governments in the heartlands continue to fund food and supplies for the explorers now living on the slopes of Mount Metar. They are very interested in harvesting the strange stone found there. [Red marble research; 1,000 gold] The government in Seringapatna finally decides it’s time to gather intelligence across the straits. The 3rd Chittori lancers are dispatched to Aros, to land in the last known location of the Red Sun pirates. During their expedition, they will attempt to find out what became of them, and map the area while they’re at it. [Exploration; 1,000 gold] [2,000 gold saved] ---------- Population 6,731,108
  2. Zanderaw

    Guide To Forum Roleplay

    who are you
  3. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP]

    Surya 1507 You are a piece of poop. Imagine your life, if you will. Perhaps you have been born in the Republic of Danwent? A beautiful place to be sure, especially for one of your people. There you will sit baking on the street for months, offending all who pass by, until at last the Senate Subcommittee on Anti-defecation appoints a subchair to organize elections on the post of weekly poo remover. A fine career, to be sure. Perhaps you were extruded in Melda, where you rain from upper windows onto pedestrians on the street below? Equally admirable. Perhaps you’ve been born in the Kingdom of Bourdeleaux, where peasants use you to flavor their wine in protest against the tyrant nobles? Or maybe in Ruhn, where the swarthy natives lay each of your kind on small tables for inspection before you attempt to fertilize their barren countryside? You could even have been born among the fey, where the citizens are so crippled by military taxes that they cannot even afford chamber pots. Even better, you could be dumped into the Well of Eternity, where the Numerians will happily drink you and call it an elixir of life. If you are truly lucky, you could aspire to be born in the Kingdom of Five, where you will be pressed warmly against your parent’s skin for weeks, before they decide to finally clean their one set of clothes. Sadly, none of this has come to pass. You have been born in the worst possible place for one of your kind - Surya. With a plop, you fall past a solid gold toilet seat into a pool of pristine water. Optimistically, you think that perhaps you are on a Galaharian ship, dropped into the bilge to slosh around and spread your scent through all of steerage. Then a valve opens up and you’re being swept away, down an intricate system of pipes to ground level, until at last you reach the sewers and you know the true horror of your fate. Thousands of your brothers surround you, all pushed helplessly into a central stream before they even have a chance to stain the walls. There is no hot sun to draw the flies to you, no bare-footed children to track you inside their homes, there are not even any noses to smell you. Resigned to your doom, you float (for you are a floater) down the stream, under the walls, until at last you emerge into a pool of water hyacinths, whose feathery roots strain the tainted water. A great melancholy falls over you as you look up from your final resting place at the shimmering city in the distance. You’ve been robbed, and the people over those walls barely ever knew you existed. As you slowly disintegrate in the cleansing pond, you think to yourself that if there is such a thing as poo-reincarnation, a merciful god will put you anywhere but here next time. --------- Economy Expenditure (56,000 Gold + 4,500 Saved) In the Joor valley, more and more farms spring up: the promise of fertile and available land draws migrants from the heartlands more each year. [2 farms; 10,000 gold] At the Joor’s headwaters, the discovery of Mount Metar piques the interest of several Rajas, and they organize a permanent settlement in the fringes of the mountain’s jungle. Even at the very base, the new village still has a beautiful view of the valley. [Settlement; 5,000 gold] At the center of a rapidly-expanding realm, Surya is more and more expected to provide supplies for the outer territories. Thriving industries of all types expand throughout the island. [5 Manufactories; 37,500 gold] In an effort to screen the frontier for possible dangers and provide maps for inevitable colonization, the 2nd Chittori Lancers are sent west, to scout the area for future expansion. [Exploration; 1,000 gold] The red marble of Mount Metar is interesting, to say the least. But until it can be harvested without being destroyed, it is entirely useless. Funds are allocated to keep an expedition supplied as they continue to experiment. [Marble Research; 1,000 gold] [6,000 gold saved] ---------- Population 6,290,755
  4. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP]

    Surya 1506 The sky was black, yet the sun never truly set on Surya. Flickering light danced on every wall, on every surface. The towers of the mirrored city loomed above, scattering the warmth of their bonfires to every street. The great temple of Mihir, beautiful and awesome, cast no shadow for each wall and column shone with the glory of the Bright One himself. And within its high courtyards, a woman screamed. She screamed as she had screamed for six hours, surrounded by stern priests and worried nurses. She screamed to the sky, to her god, and to the shadowy figures she saw reflected in the mirrors. She screamed without feeling the searing ring of fire which surrounded her mere feet away. No, Arwana Kaur screamed from labor. On a balcony overlooking the courtyard, Kunwar watched with bated breath, for things were not going well. The priests had begun their invocations in earnest, fearing the worst. “Great Mihir, we call to you from our darkness! Do not abandon this woman in her time of need, but drive off the enemy! We call to you, O Mihir, bring new life into your kingdom, and may its path be luminous!” Footsteps approached from behind, and Kunwar turned to see the high sun-seer, his beard long and braided. In silence, he too came to the balcony, and nearly imperceptibly shook his head. “An unfortunate dalliance, Kunwar.” There was regret in the man’s voice, but also acceptance. Kunwar may have taken offense under different circumstances, but now he was far too concerned. “Is this punishment?” The Maharajas looked over to the priest, who only glanced back for a moment, without answering. “The Nameless One is strong tonight, Kunwar,” he said finally. “He knocks on our gates, he worsens our struggles. But he fears the light. He always has, and he always will, for Mihir is stronger.” “...guide us through the night, Mihir! If this woman be impure, let her now be cleansed of her corruption! Let the child within her be…” The sun-seer turned again towards Kunwar. “There is only light in Surya.” And he swept from the balcony, disappearing into the temple. “...for when the night seeks to devour us, we stand unafraid! Our faith is our sword, your light is our shield!” The flames flared suddenly and unexpectedly, bathing the courtyard in blazing light. The priests fell back, taken off guard. From the center of the fire, Arwana let out another, ear-piercing shriek of terror and agony. For a moment, Kunwar thought he saw a face in the fire, a woman with long hair and vengeful eyes. Then there was silence, until the cries of a baby replaced Kunwar’s lover’s. For a moment, no one spoke. One of the nurses stepped over the dying flames, and took the girl into her arms, gazing sadly at the woman who had borne her. Then she handed the child to one of the priests, who turned to Kunwar and held the baby in the air. “Padma Viswan!” Kunwar could barely look at his daughter. He was focused on Arwana, who lay lifeless on a stone table. He nodded in acknowledgment, and turned away. Behind him, the priests had clustered around, and continued their chanting. “Though she now passes on, Mihir, let her not be devoured! Illuminate her path, and steer her to a land of eternal light….” --------- Economy Expenditure (47,500 Gold + 1,500 Saved) Millet, wheat and rice. [2 farms for 10,000 gold] The Sea of Chandra is at last clear of pirates, and the Rajas whose duty it is to safeguard trade do not think too much about the blessing. No doubt they’ve simply moved elsewhere. In anticipation of blossoming commerce through the strait, Seringapatna constructs a full harbor to profit off passing ships. [13,500 gold for port] Smoke rises south of the mirrored city, as the craftsmen of the realm expand their trade. The other cities demand fine metalwork, carpentry, art! [15,000 gold for two manufactories] In order to bring the presumably-fertile soil of the Joor valley under Suryan control, an expedition departs up the river, to establish a settlement in the south. The mountain looms in the distance…. [5,000 gold for settlement] The 2nd Chittori Lancers, previously stationed to guard the fledgling town of Manasur, are recalled. They are now to accompany the settlers south, and beyond. Never ones to resist the wilderness, they set off up the Joor river, to investigate the great mountain. [1,000 gold for supplies/equipment] [4,500 gold saved] ---------- Population 5,879,210
  5. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP]

    Surya 1505 Though the founding of Surya is shrouded in legend and mystery, its recent history is less so. For the majority of its existence, the mirrored city has restricted its citizens from leaving its central island, on the grounds that the surrounding world was corrupted beyond repair and anyone who left would return only as a spy for the nameless god. Such isolation was not conducive to the pursuit of knowledge. The years melted away uncounted, and though the city was kept pristine and beautiful the people forgot what they knew of the outside world. Thus, though Surya has stood in place for uncountable centuries, it has been barely more than a hundred years since the first Suryans made their mark on the outside world. In the year 1392, a disgruntled party of Tamas turned their backs on Mihir and crossed Arjun’s channel, striking off into the wilderness in search of a better life. The Sattva within the mirrored city were weak at the time, content to feast off the island’s bounty, and did nothing. No soldiers were sent to stop them. In time, these dissidents founded the city of Chittor on the banks of the Joor river. The settlement grew quickly, worshipping a profane god of the earth and forest. By 1420 Chittor had settled vast swaths of land across Pratyush, and Suryan-descended villages dotted the landscape. Still the Sattva remained oblivious. After another ten years, rumors of the outside world had penetrated into the mirrored city despite the priesthood’s best efforts. Trade between the Tamas on the island and the settlers beyond became difficult to control, while uncontrolled expansion continued throughout Pratyush. A town to the north, Varchas, defied the control of both Surya and Chittor and declared their own realm, in service to yet another profane god of the sea. It was Varchas that finally stirred the mirrored city to action, though it took time. Positioned as it was on valuable straits with connections to the outside world, it grew more quickly than Chittor ever had. While Chittor’s economy was agrarian, Varchas made its profit hauling exotic goods across the sea. While Chittor was peaceful, Varchas quickly amassed a large standing army. Varchaasi ships were seen in the Kumbha strait, menacing the city of cities, though they lacked the strength to assault the walls. In 1439, Varchas invaded the vastly larger Chittori territory. Their disciplined army quickly overran most of the north, and even the recalcitrant Surya could not avoid the news. Still, the city slept as the war escalated. Chittor fought back with swift cavalry, Varchas advanced with stout spearmen. By 1445, a total Varchaasi victory seemed imminent. Soldiers of Varchas march south It was only then that Surya intervened. The lazy, myopic Sattva priests had for too long stood idle while the balance of power changed on the mainland. A coalition of influential Rajas in the city rose up in the earliest known use of violence within the mirrored city. Ostensibly led by a jingoistic Sattva called Rahul Gupta, the Rajas shut the great gate of Surya to prevent anyone from escaping, and then stormed the great temple of Mihir. The realm was changed overnight. Imagine the surprise of Varchas when their undefeated army caught its first sight of Chittor, only to find that the way was blocked. All the Rajas of Surya had been gathered and had ridden hard to join the fight. At the battle of the Joor, Varchas’ legendary spearmen first encountered a match in Surya’s warriors, and Surya used the influence from their victory to demand Chittor’s allegiance. A maharajas was installed, the Elder Soul’s cult was stamped out, and the two cities at last turned their attention north. The Chittori-Suryan invasion force For nearly forty years the war raged, for Varchas had grown strong and large. But Surya had an unyielding leader in Rahul Gupta. Her armies marched through jungles and plains, her ships fought Varchas to a standstill. The city did not fall easily. The battle of Varchas was without contest the bloodiest fight of the conflict, as the worshippers of the Deep One stubbornly resisted through every street, until at last the Maharajas of Chittor finally broke the last regiment with a charge on his elephant. The war of unity came to an end in 1485. It would be years before the unfaithful cults in Varchas were truly suppressed, but for now the fighting is over, and Surya is universally recognized as the greatest city on the continent. Half a century of fighting has left their army weakened, but for the first time in the mirrored city’s immeasurable history, their interests lie abroad. With an expansionist leadership, perhaps the time for Mihir’s ascendance has come again? ---------- Surya’s influence grows, as the new settlement of Manapur erects its buildings on the shores of the Kaitna river. To the south is the largest mountain anyone has ever seen, and many of the colonists wish to go visit it. But the cavalry sent to control the expedition reins them in for now, and the town grows. News of this discovery will not take long to reach the heartlands, in any case…. Arwana Kaur, the maharajas of Varchas, returns to Surya while leaving her post in the capable hands of a deputy. Surprisingly for a woman her age, it seems she’s pregnant! The child will need to be born within the mirrored city to follow in her footsteps as a Rajas. --------- Economy Expenditure (38,000 Treasury) Fields of grain and spices are planted around Chittor, and bees cluster over them making sweet honey. [1 farm for 5,000] Despite frequent pirate raids, the settlement of Seringapatna on the Red Coast has grown significantly. Scindia is raised to a full Maharajas, and the city is recognized as a the center of a province in its own right. [15,000 gold for upgrade to city] As Seringapatna is located so strategically, merchant flock naturally to the city, ready to exploit the commerce that flows through it. [9,000 gold for merchant guild] In the growing urban center just outside Surya’s walls, artisans of every trade work to make goods for the wider realm. [7,500 gold for manufactory] [1,500 gold saved] ---------- Population 5,494,589
  6. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP]

    Surya 1504 The Maharajas’ palace in Chittor was rudimentary at best. The city was large and vital to supplying the Suryan heartlands, but it had no real wealth, and it showed. The palace was more of a wooden mansion on the river Joor, and every morning Kunwar would stand on its back porch and watch the sunrise across the water. It was a simple life, but one he enjoyed, for he was on the frontier. But that could soon change, for the city was awash with immigrants. Settlers from the banks of the Kumbha Strait had poured into Chittor for weeks, and it was all he could do to hold them back. It wouldn’t be right to claim more land without approval from the capital, but soon enough he might have no choice. They were ambitious people, and they thought they would find riches beyond the river. “Sir?” Kunwar did not turn around, for the golden glow of Mihir on the Joor was too captivating. But he knew it would be Ravi, his most capable underling. “Your guest is at the docks. Should I send an escort?” Kunwar smiled, and turned. “No, I think I’ll go myself. Wonderful morning for a ride in any case.” “Of course, sir.” The burly major looked concerned. “Will you be indisposed all day?” “Most of it, I should think. Is there a problem?” “No, sir. Not yet anyway. It’s just the inlanders are packing their bullocks. They say they’ve hired a barge and they’ll be crossing before no-” He stopped, for Kunwar had slammed his hand down on the verandah railing. “I’ve had far too much of these people, major!” “Yes, sir.” “No patience at all!” “Yes, sir.” “Don’t they understand these things take time?” “Apparently not, sir.” The Maharajas grumbled something about discipline and the rule of law. “Well major, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of dealing with this. When one sends an emergency message to Surya, one expects it to be treated as an emergency. If those people want to cross the river I certainly can’t be held responsible.” The major, still standing at attention, seemed to disapprove, but said nothing. “Of course if they do cross and die,” Kunwar continued, “it’ll be my fault regardless. No, we have to act. Well, you do.” “Sir?” “Someone needs to go east with them. Can’t be me. No, I’ll give you the 2nd Lancers, and you can try to keep them safe.” “Can’t imagine there’s much to be safe from over there,” Ravi replied. “But I’ll go.” “Good. You did well in command here, Ravi. Keep order, make sure the settlers keep performing the proper rites, and try and direct them somewhere suitable. If it’s a success, I’ll see if I can’t have you made Maharajas.” “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.” “Dismissed, major.” “Yes, sir.” Kunwar sighed. Perhaps at last this ordeal would be over. He hadn’t realize how much of a toll it had taken on him, but the thought of being rid of thousands of refugees instantly made him breath easier. With a whistle, he called for a servant to ready his horse. Then he left his meager palace and rode to the docks, where Arwana was waiting for him. ---------- An uneventful year in the grand history of Surya and its colonies. Though vicious raids menace the north, the realm as a whole prospers. Despite the aggression, the settlement of Seringapatna has grown considerably in size, and Surya dispatches an experienced general by the name of Sarjee Scindia to manage its defense and development. With such a responsibility lifted from her shoulders the Maharajas of Varchas is able to travel more, and pays a visit to her friend in Chittor. The steam monsoon hangs particularly heavy this year over the capital, and perhaps that contributes to migration away from the heartlands. A group of settlers strike out this year from the plains between Surya and Chittor, and head east. They hope for fertile soil and unclaimed lands. --------- Economy Expenditure (42,000 Treasury) Accursed pirates. They cannot run forever…. [2,000 gold.] In time, a Suryan army will cross the strait, and Suryan plows will till the soil where pirates now hide. Unfortunately the interior is more pressing for the time being, but the Maharajas have not forgotten the plight of what they call the Red Coast. In the south, the city of Chittor recruits and equips an entirely new unit of lancers, which immediately rides north to reinforce the garrison at Seringapatna. With any luck, increased patrols will lessen the pirate threat. [5,000 gold, T3 light cavalry] It comes through the gates of Surya daily. Chicken, pork, lamb for the priests. Fresh fruit, plucked from the rainforest and cultivated on fertile ground. Millet and rice, in cartloads so big they need teams of elephants to be moved. Fish, dragged from the sea and cooked in ovens as hot as the sun. [6 farms for 30,000 gold] The lush wilderness of Pratyush beckons. Maharajas Kunwar of Chittor gives shelter to a party of settlers passing through his city, and furthermore directs his deputy Ravi Singh to take command of the movement. Together with 500 Chittori lancers, the expedition heads east. [5,000 gold for a new settlement] Population: 5,135,130
  7. Zanderaw

    [RP] Dawn of Divinity

    ”Come to my embrace, O mortals, Make right what the gods have made wrong. Drink deep of my wisdom and strength, For lonely is your path, and long.” -The Eleventh Column At last, Sylvaniel’s ambition spurs her to achievements worthy of her vast ability. The Nightweaver gazes approvingly at his servant. She knows the nature of the universe better than anyone, and he can think of no one capable of standing up to her. Though they do not directly speak often since her return to the surface, she can feel his presence when she sleeps, and understands his approval. Soon, of course, Wol-Kot and all the other gods will once more go dormant. If she is still alive when he wakes, he may have another gift for her. For now though, the dreamer rests. Almost. Perhaps it is an aftershock of his massive activity in recent times. Perhaps he is simply amusing himself. But in a shallow cavern of the Underpath, there is a strange taste to the water. Some of the insects there drink it, and grow larger than before....much larger. Over time, some get to be well over twice the height of the average Nyrnen, and it is only then that one lays a large silk-wrapped egg. For months the egg sits in place, dormant and slowly growing. But at last, a pincer cuts its way out from the inside, and then another. And from the egg emerges a giant ant-like creature, and she cries out to the cavern, christening herself Xunkiira, First Queen of the Khepri. Within moments she finds food, snatching a giant beetle in mantis-like claws. Within hours, she has laid not only her first egg, but her first five. Within days, the eggs begin to hatch, spawning mindless drones enslaved to her will. Within weeks, they swarm over the caverns, carving new burrows to house hundreds of eggs, hauling back prey to feed the brood. Their rate of growth seems only to be increasing with the resources available, and seems unstoppable until at the end of the year Xunkiira lays an egg too large to be one of the usual drones. When it hatches it becomes clear what has happened, for the newborn emerges fully aware and names herself Kerkhakrexik. At first, the two queens get along, each curious about the other. But there is something instinctual in both to prevent the friendship from lasting. Soon enough, the new queen and her children begin to challenge the old. She covets her mother’s space, her resources, her hive, and the two attack each other viciously, their minions spilling each other’s blood in a useless, petty war. At last, the younger queen retreats into exile, forming a new hive some distance away where she can live in peace....until one of them runs out of room to expand. Yet Kerkhakrexik, too, soon lays a queen egg, and the cycle repeats. And below it all, the dreaming god chuckles. ---------- The Khepri are a race of few minds and many bodies. Like anything which has felt the touch of Wol-Kot, the sentient queens are born with a strong affinity for the dream dimension, and it is through that link that they are able to communicate with their mindless children. Though each queen is physically formidable, the metabolic demands of producing hundreds of eggs mean that they generally remain sedentary, sending their drones to gather resources. Resources are usually the limiting factor in their expansion, for the Khepri are extraordinarily rapid breeders. Even so, the reality of exponential growth would soon see them cover the earth, were it not for one simple fact: there is more than one queen, and each is instinctively driven to expand even against her sisters. Soon enough, of course, the more ruthless queens learn to kill every queen egg they lay, lest their domain be torn apart upon its hatching. But this comes in tandem with another piece of instinctive knowledge: that each queen can be something more. Indeed, a newborn queen is merely the first stage of the Khepri life cycle. Should a hive grow large enough, with enough resources stored, its queen can enter an intensely-demanding metamorphosis. Though still in contact with her drones, she will be unable to produce more, locked away inside a cocoon and fed pre-digested food by her children. After lying dormant for one to two years, she emerges larger and deadlier than before. More importantly, a second-stage queen is both exceptionally long-lived and more psionically potent. If she is able to capture another queen alive, (or birth one), she will be able to compel its loyalty, rendering an unruly rival into an unquestioning vassal. Thus a hive may include many queens, though only one is truly in charge. But there is a third stage, one which is significantly more difficult to reach. A second-stage queen of a truly massive hive can enter metamorphosis again. If she were to do so, the ripples across Wol-Kot’s dimension would quickly make it known to all other queens, and the immense metabolic needs of the metamorphosis would make compelling the loyalty of any other queens impossible. Almost certainly, the combined might of the Khepri queens would be put to work putting a stop to it, and well it should: at the third stage, after ten years of metamorphosis, a queen’s reach would stretch across the world-sphere, and all her sisters would find themselves instantly subordinated under her will. May the other races pray this never happens, for the emergence of a third-stage queen would see the Khepri become a plague on the world, an unstoppable, unified swarm controlled by a deathless single consciousness. For now though, they rapidly expand and bicker among themselves. There is nothing to fear here. [CREATE RACE: 10 AP] – Wol-Kot creates the insectoid Khepri, in a hex somewhere near Lavrat-Es’ continent. [0 AP SAVED]
  8. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP]

    Surya Nobody knows when the Mirrored City was built. Over the years its influence and wealth has grown, and there is no one still alive who can recall it not being there, but the story of the city’s founding is told only in legend. It is a legend which children hear before they can fully speak, and which each of the faithful never once doubts, for they can feel its truthfulness in their bones. And through all the stories that make up the myth of founding, one name is always remembered most: Arjun, the Chosen. The scriptures differ on who he was in his early life: some say he was the greatest general of a mighty kingdom, others that he was a mere farmer. It is of little consequence, for Arjun was a humble man with a great love for his family and home. A great archer and warrior, the stories of his deeds before the dark times are as varied as they are unreliable. It is said that those who would one day become Suryans lived in the north long ago, as part of some great empire. There they prospered, and the hero who would later save them grew strong and wise. But all was not well, for though they were the beloved of Mihir they were menaced by dark forces. Though they did not know it yet, the good ruler of their realm had been toppled, replaced by the malevolent Taamas, a servant of the nameless god of night. Taamas wasted no time in fulfilling his dark master’s wishes, and calamity struck the empire. Wild magic ran free, ruining harvests and twisting men into hideous beasts. But the people who would be Suryan were devoted to their god, and they defied the orders to tear down their temples. Taamas was swift in his vengeance, and smashed the rebellion. Though they fought bravely led by their future savior, he was but a man, and the cause was hopeless. Most were enslaved. Some escaped into exile, and among these were Arjun and his wife, Panchali. Over sea and desert they fled, mountain and forest, and still they were pursued. Nobody can say for sure why Taamas seemed so intent on capturing the young Arjun, but in games of gods mortals can only choose a side and obey. The god of night had won, and every sunset Arjun wished he could simply lay down and rest. Yet every dusk Taamas’ servants would appear on the horizon with murder in their eyes. So Arjun fled, and fled without rest, until he was forced to carry his wife on his shoulders. It was only then, when he surrendered his last bit of hope, that Mihir spoke to him. In the wilderness, with demons closing in, Mihir’s light suddenly cut through blackest night. His command was simple: that Arjun do his duty, destroy his pursuers and free his people. And Arjun felt a terrible shame at having run from battle, and he turned to fight. And as he turned, golden bands wrapped around his arms, and his bow burst into cleansing flames. And his pursuers fled before him and died by the dozens, and he set out for home as Arjun the Chosen, with a great vengeance in his heart. On the ashes of the empire’s capital, a great battle was fought. Arjun freed his people from slavery and led them against Taamas, and though they were hopelessly outnumbered the power of Mihir coursed through his veins. The faithful fought for three days and three nights, until at last the Chosen reached his foe. With a final burst of energy, Arjun slew Taamas, but in the effort took grievous injuries. The realm was lost. The nameless god of night had secured its victory, and Arjun found only collapse and decay where once there was prosperity. He found his strength fading, the wounds of war festering. But guided by their god, he and his people turned south and fled across the sea. The servants of Taamas were wary, but were soon spurred forward, and again Arjun’s people were pursued, until at last Mihir led them to the island that would be their home. It was here that the Chosen spoke to his people for the last time. Mihir’s light was fading across the world, he said, and with no one to fight for it. They would build a city here, a shining city in which the sun would never set. Only then could they weather the storm that was coming, for the servants of night drew ever closer. And when the time was right and this city could again carry the Bright One’s will out into the world, he would return. Mihir would choose a champion, and Arjun would be reincarnated to finally banish the night forever. He never lived to see his city completed. But the channel to Surya’s east has borne his name ever since, however long that may have been. Every Suryan knows the story. Every Suryan believes it. It is destiny, and when Arjun returns to the world to lead them to victory, they wish him to be impressed with what he sees. --------- Economy Expenditure (34,000 Treasury) The peace of the earth. The warmth of the sun. Mihir’s land grows bountiful and rich, and His people dream of everlasting light. [6 farms for 30,000 gold] [4,000 gold saved]
  9. Zanderaw

    Onwards [Sci-Fi Nation FRP - RP]

    The Han Dominion Autumn, HSC 11 Year of the Dog Yimu was never a man to feel guilty. But these days, he was beginning to feel tired. Yuguo floated in the space before him, and for a long moment he considered going home. Perhaps if he decloaked now and presented himself, the Lithruans would be merciful. But Yuguo was ruled by Dai Hanying now, and in truth he knew he would most likely be killed on sight. No, he could never go home. Still, he stared at the planet. The traffic around its atmosphere was busy, busier than it had ever been under the Dominion. Even today, it held more Han than anywhere else in the universe. Yimu’s father had led them there, and then died there himself. His brother had died there, by Yimu’s own hand. His wife had died there too, murdered by bloodthirsty clones who targeted schools and hospitals. His son….was alive and well, but the last time they spoke had been here. Nearly all those relationships were victims of his own ambition. And ever since the war, that ambition had robbed him of the planet itself. He would not bow to an alien dictator, and so he could never return. Such a high price, and for what? The Han shook his head, and had the Black Fleet’s destroyer turn to leave the system. He would return to Hanguo, where a thousand ongoing operations required his attention. All of them would lead to more deaths. Few would yield results. But still, Yimu would give the orders, and when those plots came up against dead ends, he would dream up new ones. It was an endless cycle that had killed billions without their knowledge and gained Yimu nothing, but he would never stop. It was his nature. ---------- The galaxy quakes with fear as they learn what Shi Yimu has already discovered: that the Ar’gakari never captured their own guardian, that in fact a guardian cannot be captured, that these invaders have been sent by their gods as nothing more than tools. As they mobilize to fight the outsiders, Yimu returns to his own domain to rest and brood. The Han want nothing of this war, indeed can do nothing, and they turn their attention inward. A vast sense of ennui seems to take the upper ranks of government, centered around one man who is tired of losing. In this atmosphere, Shi Feng is a refreshing source of energy. Still barely on speaking terms with his father, Feng makes inroads with the Dominion government and quickly gains responsibility expanding the state’s military capabilities. Unless the Jinyiwei becomes suddenly more willing to exercise its influence, there may soon be a resurgence of factional politics.... ---------- Han Stats Link: Summary: Apotheosis. [25 AP] The Dominion’s shipyards are full to capacity, producing more light freighters. [38 AP] The shipyard already in expansion is expanded more. [3 AP, it needs another 2 for SL4] With Indian refugees flooding into the Dominion, the old colony ship being kept in reserve is sent south. As the Dominion lacks itoron and refuses to trade for it, the ship has particular instructions to survey all potential systems for resources. [0 AP, founding colony.]
  10. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP]

    Surya “They were not receptive.” Kunwar chuckled and sipped from a cup of creamy, spiced tea. “Dirty pirates.” “What else could you expect?” His host replied. “They’re Tamas, and criminals already. They don’t understand anything but force.” Kunwar looked up skeptically at the woman. Arwana Kaur had been a beautiful woman in her youth - he should know, since the two had grown up together. These days her age was beginning to show, and her face was marred by a near-permanent scowl. The realities of governorship had taken their toll, but still she was his friend. Now the two sat on a sun-baked terrace in her city, Varchas. Ships came and went, whether to sea or into the Kumbha strait, where the mirrored city waited. To the north, they would be sailing through the Sea of Chandra, where the Red Suns would hunt them. Perhaps, though, they would hunt them a little less now that Kunwar had thrown them from the Suryan coast. “They’ll be back, you know.” Arwana’s tone was more distasteful than concerned. “And while you’re back in Chittor getting fat, I’m stuck defending a coastline twice as long.” “You did ask for this posting.” She grumbled. “It’s fine. Maybe this means something will finally happen around here. I wasn’t built for managing tax policy, Kunwar.” “In that case, you’re welcome.” Kunwar grinned. Arwana may have disliked being a bureaucrat, but she wasn’t bad at it. When a Suryan army had taken this city fifteen years prior it had been poor and disgusting, with the residents openly defecating in the streets. Now it was the gateway to Pratyush and Chandra, nearly as rich as Surya itself, and the streets were pristine. It put his own work in Chittor to shame. She looked at him, and smiled for the first time that day. “Why don’t you stay longer? A few days can’t hurt.” And he truly wanted to. It had been almost a decade since the two had last had time together. Instead Kunwar shook his head. He’d been away from his post for too long already. He had a ship booked for the next morning. Surya would want his report. There were a hundred reasons he had to go. Even so, as he left he realized just how remote Chittor really was. He really must come home more often. ---------- Even as their soldiers strike out against pirates in the north, Mihir’s faithful turn their attention inward. On the coasts of the Sea of Surya, more and more citizens take advantage of the Sattva’s land grants, and farms spring up to supply the mirrored city. Not just rice is raised here but fruit, livestock, spices gathered from every corner of the realm. And why not? There is little to threaten the city, not yet. So the three castes work in peace, and savor the Bright One’s sweet bounty. --------- Economy Expenditure (36,500 Treasury) Settlers from the core territories are recruited and sent north, where they claim an outpost on the eastern peninsula of the former pirate lands. [5,000 gold for an outpost on PoC] As soldiers will be needed to defend the new territory, the city of Varchas recruits a new regiment of light spearmen, to help keep order over their stretch of coast. [1,000 gold, basic light infantry] Most of the realm’s income goes to further developing agriculture on the coasts surrounding the mirrored city. Mihir’s chosen will prosper. [30,000 gold for 6 farm districts] [500 gold saved.]
  11. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP]

    Surya Kunwar Viswan, Maharajas of Chittor, wiped sweat from his brow. The steam monsoon was at its most intense, and so the air was chokingly hot, the humid heat that made a man feel he was being boiled alive. Yet to Kunwar, it signalled that he was almost home. A year he had spent in the darkness, serving Mihir at the cost of his own purity, and though he tried to rule Chittor with his best judgment he knew that the longer he stayed away from Surya the more that judgement would be tainted. “When was the last time you were sanctified, Ravi?” He asked his second suddenly, turning to face the man who rode beside him. Ravi was burly for a cavalry officer, with a large waxed mustache that now repelled drops of the man’s sweat. Ravi thought. “Five years, maybe? Not easy making the trip. Chittor’s so busy these days.” Kunwar shook his head disapprovingly. “Dangerous, captain. Dangerous. At least you’re here now.” The air was hazy courtesy of the monsoon, but even so the hot sun blazed down on his skin. Further east, he knew, it would meet cooler winds and the steam would condense into rain, watering the plains around Chittor. When he returned to his post, there would be a bountiful harvest in the making. “Nearly there, I think,” he commented, and as if in answer the haze cleared for a moment, and light glinted into his eyes. The glittering Kumbha strait lay before him, and on the other side, the greatest city in the world. Walls of Surya, eastern water gate Surya could not be missed even from this distance, for it was the mirrored city, where the light of Mihir never faded. Each tower and house within the walls was covered from top to bottom with mirrors of the finest quality, strategically angled to spread the light of bonfires across the city at night. In that way one city on the earth was sheltered from the night, its people untainted. But in the day, the mirrors reflected the sun outward, warning all that they were approaching a wonder of the world. Kunwar, like all Rajas, had grown up inside the walls, but he was in awe nevertheless whenever he returned. “You see, Ravi! Mihir reaches out to us!” He spurred his horse forward, while Ravi followed slightly less enthusiastically. ---------- It was another two hours before they reached the strait, and another hour after that before they could take a ferry to the city docks, but when they finally stepped through the shining gates Kunwar was no less enthusiastic. He yearned to step through the fire unharmed, to be sanctified as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he had barely stepped foot inside the mirrored city before a bearded Sattva approached him. Purification would have to wait, for the highest of the priests wished to speak to him. In a stone-carved room illuminated with fires and more mirrors, he found the man. Chanda Mazumdar had not been high sun-seer for long, but he was in his position for a reason. Kunwar had not met the man since his ascension, but he knew better than to underestimate him. “We have not seen you in some time, Maharajas.” The Sun-Seer was at prayer before a large open window, and did not turn. Kunwar bowed his turbaned head nonetheless. “Chittor is demanding, Holiness. Surya needs its supplies. I try to return each year.” “I see Arwana nearly every month.” Kunwar suppressed his annoyance. “Varchas is up the strait. It is not such a difficult trip.” But knowing the Sattva would not accept such an answer, he went on. “I have no excuse, Holiness. But my loyalty is to Mihir, as always.” “Good.” The priest nodded, and got to his feet. When he turned, Kunwar saw an old and stern man with a painted forehead, and a long white beard. “It is good that you are here now, Kunwar,” Mazumdar called him by his first name. “After you are purified, I have a job for you.” “In the city?” “No, north.” The sun-seer stepped closer. “Pirates.” Kunwar frowned. “I would think,” he replied, “that the maharajas of Varchas would be better suited to such a task.” The priest responded with a full-bellied laugh. “Have you met Arwana? No, she’s not suitable. We don’t have the men to waste on the kind of assault she’d try, and besides...these thieves are an opportunity.” “You want me to make a deal?” “I want you to demand a deal, Kunwar. Mihir does not barter with criminals.” Kunwar was silent. “You will take an expedition north, and you will tell them that Mihir’s protection falls upon them. Henceforth, they will be guarded from any who might menace them on land. But in exchange…” He smiled. “A tithe of their loot must be sent to Surya each year. And of course, any of them who attack our ships must be turned over, in the future.” “Steep terms, Holiness.” “The thousand spears behind you should prove persuasive. But try not to need them.” Kunwar raised an eyebrow, but nodded. The infantry regiments of Surya all came from Varchas, and so were under the command of Arwana Kaur, the city’s maharajas. She had a temper, and he suspected she wouldn’t be pleased that they were being borrowed. “I’ll go to Varchas at once, then.” He was not worried about Chittor. It was about time Ravi had a taste of governorship anyway. Still, as the sun-seer wrote out the orders for him, he could not help but feel apprehensive. It was the darkness infesting him, surely. The sanctification ceremony could not come quickly enough. ---------- Proud, wealthy, and sprawling, the realm of Surya is nevertheless unready for conflict. There is much to do within its borders, and so this year the Sattva of the mirrored city command that commerce among their subjects be allowed to blossom. The Rajas interpret this by implementing their own merchant guilds loyal to the faith, and by granting land to the Tamas, that they might prosper and know Mihir’s grace. Economy Expenditure (45,000 Treasury) A merchant’s guild is established in each of the three cities under Mihir: Surya, Varchas and Chittor. [27,000] The farms around Chittor are expanded, with more rice fields planted every day. [15,000] Kunwar Aswan leads an expedition north, with 500 light cavalry lancers and 1,000 spearmen. He is to demand to meet representatives of the pirate lords there, and present Mihir’s generous terms. [No expenditure] Tamas traders from Varchas soon arrive on the shores of the Xian Kingdom, the Order of Elders, and the Surukai. They seek profit, and wish to open up various trading ventures. [No expenditure.] [3,000 saved]
  12. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP] [OOC]

    Nation Name: Surya BRIEF History: Surya, the mirrored city. Surya, the city of eternal light. For centuries, the greatest of the west’s capitals has sat on the Kumbha Strait, the bridge between the twin continents of Pratyush and Chandra. (Known as Esman and Golun to outsiders.) It lords over the jungles and hot plains that surround it, just as Mihir the Bright One lords over the world each day. None can doubt its splendor, nor escape its armed servants, who have so bravely brought neighboring Varchas and Chittor into the fold. By day, a ship can see Surya from miles away, for the many towers of the city are covered in mirrors which scatter Mihir’s light in every direction. By night, the mirrors serve a different purpose, for the purifying light of Mihir must never fade. In Surya, bonfires are lit each sunset, and their warmth refracts throughout the mirrored city. It is a wonder beyond any in the western world, and the surrounding land is kept in constant awe. To the north is Varchas, city of merchants and explorers. To the south is Chittor, providing the eternal city with great shipments of supplies. Nation Culture: To be touched by darkness is to be tainted, for the darkness is alive and seeks to rob you of Mihir’s gifts. None understand this better than the Sattva, the pure. The priests of Surya are born within the city, and must avoid leaving lest they become unfit to channel Mihir’s grace. When one is seen abroad they are constantly surrounded by candles and mirrors, in a shallow imitation of the sun’s judgement. The Sattva are revered, and spend their days paying tribute to the Bright One and seeking to spread His will. But a city cannot survive closed from the world. That is the reason for the sacrifice of the Rajas, the Sanctified. They too are born within the mirrored city, and so come into the world untainted. But a Rajas does not fear the darkness as the Sattva do. Instead they go out into the world as warriors, as kings, to brave the night’s poison in the service of Mihir. They are however permitted to return to Surya, in fact encouraged to do so in pilgrimage lest they fully lose themselves to darkness. To a man, they are devoted servants of the Bright One, but they can never be permitted to defile Him by channeling His power. All others are Tamas. Born beyond the walls of the holy city or else having turned to apostasy, they are forever torn between day and night, and may choose to serve either. A Tamas cannot live permanently within Surya, but they are permitted to visit in order to trade and receive blessings. They make up the vast majority of Surya’s realm, and are largely devoted its cause...at least when the Rajas are watching. Human Or Humagi (Describe Humagi): Human – By Mihir’s grace, the people of Surya remain untainted by darkness. Their eyes are bright with righteous faith, their skin dark from the warmth of their lord. Nation Government System: Caste-based theocracy: The Sattva are the highest caste and their word is law. But the Rajas function as de facto rulers, for only they leave the capital regularly. Economy: 6: The twin continents of Pratyush and Chandra are a land of natural wealth. The jungles teem with exotic animals and timber, while plentiful rain and fertile soil lend themselves to farming. The large population are willing to pay Surya’s taxes, for Mihir’s splendor is clear to all. Education: 1: Outside Surya, the farmers think little and know less. Inside, the Sattva turn to their god while the Rajas are concerned with practical matters. Most innovation is stamped out as heresy. Size (include rough area on map): 8: Surya rules a sprawling, agrarian swath of jungle and hot plains, where rain is plentiful and people more so. The Kumbha Strait divides its territory, but due to the city’s strategic position this is more of an advantage than anything else. Military: 2: Three units of spearmen, two of light cavalry. Two cogs. (Total upkeep 2,000 gold) Mysticism: 4: MIHIR SEES ALL. MIHIR GUIDES ALL. Key Figure 1: High Sun-Seer Chanda Mazumdar Key Figure 2: Arwana Kaur, Maharajas of Varchas Key Figure 3: Kunwar Viswan, Maharajas of Chittor Unique Unit: War elephants: massive, aggressive, and deceptively fast, the elephants of Pratyush have long been used as mounts by the natives. With their vitals protected from spears by thick armor, and archers and pikes on their backs, they are a terrifying sight for any opposing army. The Rajas of Surya train them to go where directed and to smash enemy formations with long, fierce tusks. It does, however, take practice and a good deal of nerve to stand on the back of these beasts and fight. They are not cheap. Hidden Fruit: Lichi
  13. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP] [OOC]

    blow it out your ass
  14. Zanderaw

    From Ruination [FRP] [OOC]

    Blow it out your ass
  15. Zanderaw

    [RP] Dawn of Divinity

    ”Offer to me your Body, your Strength, Offer to me your Mind, your Will, Cast your dreams to my abyss, And they will rise as something more.” -The Tenth Column In the beginning, Kaha-Nu-Buhu gifted all living creatures with a spark of the divine. This gift was the soul ichor which now infused the world, and it was an act of profanity. That one god should lord over the essence of mortals for all eternity was never in the plan of Ao, and more importantly it was offensive to Wol-Kot. For eons he had watched his wretched sister claim the right to what was not hers. He had long thought and dreamed to himself of how such a mistake of creation could be remedied. But the laws of nature were becoming set in their ways, and only through great power could they be altered. So he had slept. He had slept, and in Soth-Kogarth a great reserve of strength had formed, straining at its bounds, eager to be unleashed. In the days before his plans come to fruition, the signs begin to appear on the surface in the form of strange dreams, not limited to a single area as when before he visited Yngbald’s forest, but now across the entire World-Sphere. There is a mountain in Soth-Kogarth, a great craggy mountain of black glass, and it screams in terrible agony. Above it is the red moon Vulu-Marama, its light casting eerie shadows on the still landscape. Each night for three days, the mountain screams in the minds of sleeping mortals. On the fourth night the screaming is nearly unbearable, and at last the ordeal comes to a crescendo. The mountain shatters, crumbling to its roots as from its crystalline form writhes a great worm-like horror, its gaping maw gnashing hatefully in all directions at once. Rising, the creature devours the red moon, letting out a final shriek of victory as it collapses to where the mountain once was. There is only an abyss below, dark and yawning, and the worm falls, out of sight, into a vortex of deep fog. With that, thousands of mortals wake up in cold sweats to discover that Vulu-Marama is still in the sky, where it should be. But all is not the same, and those with the means and knowledge to recognize it speak of a massive wave of psionic energy emanating from the deep earth. The other gods, for their part, know immediately what has happened. The vast reserve of power held within Soth-Kogarth has collapsed in on itself, and the void left in its place hungers for more. None can tell what Wol-Kot plans for those who fall into its clutches, but the endless vortex now pulls on the souls of all mortals, opposing Kaha-Nu-Buhu’s intended afterlife. In most cases, of course, her claim is absolute. But those who have dabbled in blood magic see the vortex when they sleep, and find themselves wondering what lies on the other side. ---------- The night of the vortex’s birth, Sylvaniel was awake, anticipating that her god was soon to do something major and insulating herself from direct exposure. Even so, she felt the outpouring of strength from below and knew that there had been a change. Around her, the inhabitants of her enclave tossed and turned, but she merely turned her eyes to the stars. A flash of crimson above, and a streak of light through the sky. Something had fallen from the heavens. It crashed into the dunes nearby in a plume of sand, and when she went to investigate, she found a small stone, only the size of her fist. Three words were carved around its widest point, in the script of Wol-Kot’s temple. “For your conquests.” But the rock gave off no particular energy, and she could not detect any consciousness or use in it. A moment more, and the sand around her began to shift. She stood still as a floor of smooth basalt emerged below her, and a pedestal with markings rose. And as she had with Yngbald’s eye, she set this rock too where she was commanded. And the rock glowed red with hunger, and the script on the pedestal glowed with it, and the script said: “Behold, mortal, the SOUL STONE.” Around Sylvaniel, the floor was rising, and walls of more basalt formed to surround her. In the town, she could hear sleeping Kyrkal cry out in terror. Before her, the script continued to form. ”The power to correct the wrongs of creation lies before you, crystallized so that no man or god can destroy it. Only the stone on which you stand can awaken it, bathed in blood given willingly.” There was a sharp edge at the near side of the pedestal, and the priestess assumed she was expected to use it. As the first drop of her blood fell to the floor, the walls suddenly burst to life with carvings, glowing red. Now there was a power surrounding the stone, and truly surrounding everything around her. More of the script appeared near the ceiling. ”This place shall be your home, your palace, the seat of a new rule that will bring order to life and death. You must spread the stone’s influence, for all the souls of all who die in its realm will be spared the tyranny of the Red Lady. You shall learn how, in these halls.” A basalt door had formed, and now slammed open. Sylvaniel turned from the stone’s chamber and stepped into a long hallway covered in the script of Wol-Kot. Some was knowledge she had already learned: rites of blood magic, to be performed on the soul ichor of others or oneself. But some was more practical: designs of great black obelisks, bathed in sacrificial blood, to extend the reach of this new gift. Sylvaniel smiled. At last, it was becoming clear what her god desired. And as she thought on how long she had waited for this, she stepped out into the morning light and looked up at the black structure that would be her throne. [CREATE FORCE: 20 AP] – The endless vortex, a void in Soth-Kogarth beyond which nobody knows what exists, begins to pull at the souls of the mortal realm. While the vast majority are still tied to their creator, those who have severed their ichor from Kaha-Nu-Buhu through blood magic are helpless before the new divine force. When they die, their souls are cast adrift, and slowly but inexorably pulled to the realm of Wol-Kot. [CREATE ARTIFACT: 6 AP] – The Soul Stone, a manifestation of Wol-Kot’s will which requires monuments of sanctified basalt to properly channel. In its area of influence, which may be expanded with the construction of such monuments, the soul ichor of those who perish is ripped from its proper course to the Ruby Lady, and pulled toward the stone itself. Clearly, it is the Dreamstalker’s intention that this flow of ichor should eventually go to him, but in fact it has a tendency to linger around the artifact itself. With a great number of deaths occurring in the influenced area, blood magic performed close to the stone could be exceptionally potent. [SHAPE LAND: 4 AP] – As the first of the Soul Stone’s monuments, and as a standing command to his most favored mortal, Wol-Kot raises a massive basalt pyramid around the stone, on the outskirts of Sylvaniel’s enclave. The interior contains enough rooms for the functions of palace and temple, with cavernous halls and private chambers, but the centerpiece is clearly the tiny chamber at its center which holds the fist-sized glowing rock. If the stone were used as intended, the building could soon be host to great power, but for now it is little more than just that...a building. 0 AP SAVED