Samoblivion

The Fortress Libraries BRIEF ha History: Time is a thing hard for mortals to predict, but to the God of Change and his adherents it is a science like any other. The fall of the Symon Empire was predicted decades in advance by a clandestine coterie of clairvoyants, and plans were accordingly set into place. Inevitably there would be a long era of barbarism and chaos, throughout which much of the wonder and knowledge of the old world would be trampled under foot by the ignorant and unenlightened. Such was accepted by the nascent seer council of the sanctuary, as all things had a beginning and end – even an empire. Their discoveries could, of course, not be shared with the populace at large, or even the majority of the imperial intelligentsia, for the god of disbelief held deep sway over the masses. Adherence to any other deity was questioned at best, fatal at worst. And so the seers went about their work in patient secrecy, gathering like minded souls copying knowledge destined to be lost to time. They would save all they could from the fires of ignorance and hold it in safekeeping till a more peaceful age next arose, when that vast accumulated knowledge could be shared with the world and benefit a new empire. In secret, the conspirators built a vast underground complex in the mountains of central Naros, a labyrinthine repository of learning and power that would not only protect the arcana and technical archives that the scholars toiled ceaselessly to gather and spirit to safety, but also the scholars themselves. For what use is a library without librarians to catalogue and interpret it? The disciples of the God of Change entombed themselves with their hoard of literature in their great fortress library, The Bastion, and its satellite facilities to ride out the unfolding apocalypse. Many centuries passed in the dark deeps of their great vault. The sprawling underground city had been built into a natural cave system, and dilligently propagated with cave-hardy crops and animals. Each citizen knew their role from birth was the safeguarding and preservation of the vast library. Some worked to sustain the vault and its people, others to protect them from marauding threats, while others still cared for the ancient tomes and magics kept in trust for future use. Many generations lived and died in the underground gloom, and much knowledge was lost simply due to the fact that there was too much of it to keep track of. Vast storehouse archives could lie unentered for years, with their contents largely forgotten by the living – for there was too much for anyone to read within a lifetime. A closed community is often susceptible to disease or inbreeding, leading to further die-offs of living knowledge. Gradually the scholars turned to their religion to sustain their charge, a scholarly undertaking turned to sacred mission. Key texts were turned to holy books, their knowledge within considered ritual. Understanding could come in the future, when the vaults were opened and the outer chaos subsided. In the dark years, retention of knowledge was paramount. Rituals of retranscribing and rebinding of the blessed books became commonplace, with ceaseless faith a necessity for the comparatively small and dwindling population to preserve its vast and quickly mouldering charge of tomes. Gradually, stability came, and after it the opportunity to understand and contemplate the texts once more. That time coincided with the Great Awakening. Now the Fortress Libraries have opened their hidden and fortified gates once more, its people emerging into the blinding light of a new world. The appointed hour, as written in the texts of the First Scryers (whose power is sadly long forgotten but SURELY contained within the texts of the Great Corpus), has come. Now the librarians must work the world once more and assess its progress. Initial reports are not promising. The world is untamed and still politically divided. Inevitably they will collapse and a dark age will come again. Undaunted, the librarians stick to their charge. Knowledge must be acquired and safeguarded, above all other considerations. The other nations are fleeting, but of use to the great undertaking. Their knowledge will be assessed and preserved for posterity. What happens to them, ultimately, is inconsequential, but they surely cannot be trusted with items of immense power. Now, the Librarians go forth with spell, sword and quill. Nation Culture: Human Nation Government System: Meritocratic Oligarchy Economy: 6 Education: 7 Size (include rough area on map): 2 Military: 2 Mysticism: 4 Key Figure 1: High-Magus Allidar Varchus – Chief among the librarian magi, master of scholars, priests and magicians. Key Figure 2: High-Guardian Theodor Kryze – Chief of defensive considerations, the mundane military and scouting. Key Figure 3: High-Quartermaster Maria Vane – Chief of civilian activity. Unique Unit: Librarian Knights – Small, elite units of warrior-scholars ideally suited for long-range exploration of lost knowledge sources. Hidden Fruit: Lichi

THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming Turn 12 The divines knew that soon the Great Sleep would overtake them again, that Ao was calling them home. It was now that plans would be put into place for the future. And so, in the final millenium of the Second Age, the age of emerging peoples, of great men and women, of the rise of nations, their came a time of blood and battle. It was an era of bloodshed and darkness, an era of crusaders fighting with the power of the gods themselves behind them. It was a time of blackest infamy and boundless heroism. The Venandi and Cardans fight a bitter war that lasts generations. Mortal generations at least. For many years the frontier forts of the Carda faithful hold the line against roving warpacks, stopping all but small flying raider groups swooping northward at speed. Large groups of warriors are soon met with guerilla action and traps long before they threaten the forts, but once there their weakened numbers find themselves hard pressed to take the new bastions following the withering assault of Cardan warriors and airborne Pati guardians. That was, until the reforms of God-King Archon I, who would become known as The Great. Tempering his own battlefield experience with the ordered visions of destruction gifted unto him from his divine sire, Archon embarked on a campaign of wide reaching changes in the Venandi military. The warpacks, once based on a expedition, the charisma of their leaders, or even tribal associations, were replaced with a system of permanent legions. Feral warriors became disciplined and ruthless soldiers, swift moving cohorts supported by magical support from Kin warmages and hammer-blow strikes from dragon riders. The long decades of peace that preceeded the first use of these deadly armies in battle against Carda were regarded by Kaha’s faithful as a blessing, but soon were recognised as the calm before the storm. Even the stalwart defenders of the frontier forts, and the guerillas, found themselves driven to breaking point by the inexorable advance of Archon’s new legions. Fort after fort fell, breaking open a line in the defenses that allowed more disorganised raiders to plunge north into the Cardan heartland. It was only the rise of Mamo, Kaha’s new champion, that stopped the total steamrolling of Carda. When the first dragon riders swooped over the mighty walls, intent on planting Archon’s flag atop the Ziggurat, they were struck down before either beast or Venandi could step foot on the holy isle. Arcing javelins of blood magic flew upward, punching remorselessly through both armour and hide. The humble curate became a great hero of the people. Driving back the legions from the southern walls, and holding them at the last line of forts between Carda and the ever growing borders of Archon’s kingdom. Such was the strength of Mamo’s power, the investment of divine energy in one being, rather than a dynasty, that he slew one of the Venandi God-Touched when she approached on the field of battle. Lady Markarra was split in twain by a bolt of blood, the shrieking release of divine power from the act – god magic vs god magic – shocked both invader and defender, putting Marakarra’s legion to rout. Even the court of Archon heard of Mamo’s deeds; the holy warrior, whose powers were akin to those the Tyrannid Dynasty and perhaps greater, even now praised by the Cardan faithful as a living saint. For many long centuries has this war been fought, and remains at a stalemate. The blood continues to flow, the souls flowing unabated to the realm of Kaha. For now. By the will of Wol-Kot, a great change comes to the flow of souls in the universe. By design, a mortal’s everliving essence, the soul ichor, transmutes the dead into the Ruby Lady’s self-declared afterlife. Such was a grand paradigm of the world-sphere. No longer. A maw of yearning hunger now extends into the empyrean from Soth-Kogarth, ensnaring all whose souls are not totally intact into the ownership of the Great Dreamer. All blood-magi, users of their own soul-essence and that of others, and by a cruel twist of irony, all pure-born Pati are whisked into the hands of Wol-Kot upon death. Some would call this fate denying a glorious and restful afterlife in the care of Kaha-Na-Buhu. Others would simply call it the souls going from one capricious god to another. What fate Wol-Kot has in mind for these souls is unclear, but those dreaming deeply enough to enter Soth-Kogarth in their sleep see the fresh flow of souls into the great dark maw, and all those whose souls are not intact feel the pull in the waking world as well. This new pull on the souls of the ichor-defficient was not alone in Wol-Kot’s changes to the afterlife, for he brought into being the Soul Stone. This baleful artifact circumvents the natural order of things and redirects the souls of the dead within its influence toward the great maw in Soth-Kogarth, even those of the fully ensouled. With this came a decree to his favoured servant Sylvaniel, to spread the Stone’s radius of power through construction of basalt pillars consecrated with blood magic. This coincided in a shift in belief of Sylvaniel’s cult. Long had they known the power of dreams and the grand reality beyond the waking world created by Wol-Kot at the dawn of time, its potential and power. Though still nominally focused on self-empowerment, Sylvaniel directed her dreaming followers to repay the creator of the dreamscape by allowing him their souls upon death – for surely the Great Dream can only be deeper and more vivid in an eternity in the embrace of Wol-Kot? The influence of the cult grows from worm-cast to worm-cast, with belief in both Wol-Kot and Sylvaniel, their “Waking Prophet”, spreading throughout the Great Desert. By the speed of her Kyrkal followers, her influence is spread to many kindreds of the deep. Dreamer cults can soon be founded in many settlements of the oceans, as well as enclaves within the worm-casts of the Great Desert. From her millenium of studies, Sylvaniel was indeed one of the finest mages in the world-sphere, and knew well the incantations needed to create the pillars needed to expand the Soul Stone’s power. Placed in a patient and deliberate manner, the soul stone’s catchment area for the souls of all living things grew beyond its original confines. ((2 hex radius from start position)). With her self-centered religion spreading steadily, Sylvaniel turned her mind to other projects. Those of her own, and not of her patron. The Desert was a fine location to begin, but all too constricting. Kyrkal made fine pupils and gifted citizens of her half-submerged enclave, but could not settle further inland due to the horribly arid nature of that continent. Worms were by nature deeply attuned to dreaming, but their conservative, ponderous nature and the very fact that each one was several hundred metres long made the construction of more “traditional” civilisation perplexing. The Cult could remain here, and could grow on its own. The Soul Stone’s influence could be slowly spread across the continent, for the Worms did not mind that fate, and her faith was growing in the depths of the seas – soon pillars could be constructed to take the souls of Kyrkal colonies there. But this was too... constricting for Sylvaniel. It had been over 1500 years since she had seen another of her kind, and desired to spread her influence to the Nyren. She knew that Adamant would know of her, and their own powers of magic may be a threat to her... no, she could not seize her homeland as her own. For now. Instead her gaze turned far to the south, to the forested lands of the former god Do-rah. Though she knew not of the civilisation of Iranoch that had arisen there, she knew that the land was far from the politicking of the gods and mortals, a land she could take as her own if she wished. She made preparations to abandon her enclave to its established priesthood and dreamer cultists, and assume dominion of a nation. Sylvaniel was correct in her assumptions that the Adamantine Magi were aware of her. Their scrying was based on the over-growing runic history of the world written in the walls of the Great Tree, though often the text was arcane and dense with meaning and hidden depths. It did not allow omniscience, but it did allow a broad knowledge of world events as they unfolded. Soon the signs and portents were made clear by the arrival of dreamer cult missionaries. They were not turned away, as no god was forbidden in Adamant. Many were the shamanic orders and priesthoods, with Wol-Kot’s followers among the more numerous, for the dreaming realm was of great scholarly and spiritual interest to great swathes of adamantine society. But the suspicions of the Mage State were piqued by the sudden emergence of the maw in Soth Kogarth, and the distant magical signal of the newly formed Soul Stone. The Magi became wary of a divine power play in the making. This issue, as with many, was brought to the attention of Areon Brightsteel, the Librarian of Adamant. This great mage had grown in power by orders of magnitude since the beginning of his divine tenure, his already prodigious magic bolstered by the divine power bestowed by Yngbald. He had become the de facto leader of the civilisation, and was party to all discussions of diplomacy and arcane occurences. Kaladas Sanguinar, chief among Adamant’s order of Blood Magi brought forward the pressing matter to the Librarian. “The existence of this ‘Soul Stone’ is a concern that MUST be brought to the attention of the Cardans. For now, only blood magi are bound to the dreamer, but should the ancient traitor seek to... “expand” the power of this artifact, I fear for the souls of ALL beings on this sphere. At the very least, Librarian, we must send an expedition to investigate Sylvaniel and her ilk. Kyrkal emissaries stand ready to entreat with the Myrdians for passage through the Folly, with their aid surely passage to the Desert-“ Areon spoke calmly but firmly, his simplest words as if law in these matters. “I appreciate the new condition you find yourself in Kaladas... but these are not matters that can be solved by mortal politicking. We are subject to the whims of the divines, and our ability to influence them is frankly non-existent. Sylvaniel’s expanding faction is... concerning, as is this Soul Stone. But such things will take time to solidify, to establish. The worm-lands are a vast distance from our forest, and the Stone’s reach will not engulf the world overnight.” With that the blood mage was dismissed. Words were spoken to an aide, advising the guard to watch for blood mage reprisals against Wol-Kotite organisations and dreamer conclaves. This entire exchange was observed by Astari of Ritherayn, gifted mage acolyte and chosen apprentice of the Librarian. Areon sighed and addressed her as their chamber was vacated by others. “Kaladas and all Blood Magi are facing a spiritual crisis, quite literally, one that I cannot help him with. Sylvaniel is not the cause of that, and neither will crusading against her solve their... condition. Killing her will not change the new fate of those who are half-souled.” Astari still did not speak. Areon finally turned his full attention to her. “Your silence is deafening, apprentice. Speak your mind.” “Master, I am no zealot of the Red Lady, but perhaps we can trust her dominion over the ancestors more than the infernal whisperer in the dark? Wol-Kot subverted one of our own order, stole the Tree’s most sacred relic-“ “And in doing so, opened the last puzzle. Granting us access to the Tree in its entirety.” “Surely you can’t suggest that Sylvaniel did us a favour? That Wol-Kot helped us?” “That is exactly what I’m suggesting. The politics of the heavens are not ours to meddle in, or to fully understand, Astari. We are to the gods what motes of dust are in the stream of a fountain. Our motion, our existence, bound to the flow of events set in stone long before we ever joined the stream. We can only hope the water leads us in agreeable directions.” “A rather passive view for the chosen of Yngbald.” “You will realise yourself one day, Astari, that things have a way of working themselves out – with or without our action. We cannot save the world entire, but we can do what we can in the here and now. We can only endure the actions of the gods, whether for good...” A chill ran down Areon’s spine, a vibration throughout his entire being. Something was coming. “... or for ill.” The air became musty and warm, and a chittering hiss rang in the air for miles around. A squeeling, chittering laugh followed. Few realised its significance in the first seconds, save the Librarian, who felt the accompanying deluge of divine energy as if a hammer had been slammed down upon him. He stumbled and fell, Astari running forward to steady him. “Master! What’s wrong, what is that?” Areon gritted his teeth and looked into his apprentice’s eyes. “Doom.” Outside, the ground cracked and split. Great fissures emerged, spewing forth foul vapours. Citizens of Adamant fled, those who smelled the vapours overcome with boils and coughing blood. Some mages quickly cast protective wards and advanced on the foul cracks, beginning incantations of geomancy to seal them. Those who did so died quickly, as the chittering hordes of the Skatalkin swarmed forth in a horrific tide of fur, tooth and tail. The swarm swept like bubbling waves from the fissures, chasing down fleeing prey and eating anything organic in their path. The survivors fled in panic toward the Tree, the swarm hot on their heels... before it burst into white fire as a runic cordon erupted into life around the great gate of the Tree. Areon Brightsteel’s eyes glowed a similar white hue for a moment after incanting that barrier, surveying the situation in dismay. Astari was in panic, alternating between herding civilians into the Tree and futily casting shimmering streams of magic into the swarming host that gnashed at the barrier runes. “Master, what is happening? Are we under attack, what-“ Areon sighed, and looked upon his young apprentice with sad eyes. “This is a cataclysm. The wrath of a god.” Astari was aghast. “A.. A god?” Areon looked out at the hosts of civilians crossing the barrier that the skatalkin could not, many falling from sickness and wasting disease soon after. “This is the work of Skatal. The god of plagues has returned to the world...” He cringed briefly and beheld a boiling canker erupting on his arm. Moving swiftly, his eyes glowed a deep gold – channeling divine energy to counteract it. The measure worked, branding the boil into submission... but it would not last forever. What was the power of a god-touched against the singular determination of a divine? “Dust in the stream...” Astari watched this in despair. He turned to her, resolute in purpose. “Astari. The puzzles. Break them.” Astari looked at him in horror. He remained steadfast. “All that we have done together has led to this moment. Go now. Your story does not end here, and neither does that of our people.” Astari cast him a last, begging look before steeling herself. She moved through the refugees into the tree and headed to ancient shrines and inscriptions long out of use. It did not take long for Areon’s command to be obeyed. The magical puzzles solved so long ago by the precursors of the Adamantine Magi were locked into place, one by one, sealing the Tree increment by increment, chamber by chamber. Runic seals and wards flashed into being once more, sealing the way for both people, beasts and disease. As the final seal closed on the great gate of the Tree, the most simple of runic locks, Areon turned to face the ravenous horde before him. The beasts swarmed without heed of the sigils searing their flesh and bones apart as they ran across them, their foul blood obscuring them little by little, dulling their power. But that power was no longer needed, as Areon Brightsteel, First of the Librarians, prepared his final incantation. Channeling the power of the divine, and the force of magic that permeated the world, the great wizard chanted and wove eldritch and terrible symbols, power glowing from him blue-hot with the effort. Already the energies he channeled as a conduit had blinded him, evaporating his eyes and searing his veins as he cast his last spell. Slowly the runes of the great tree itself glowed hotter and hotter. The memories of Areon’s days as a teacher flooded back to him as his claws wove the necessary sigils and runes for the undertaking, his blue-robed form floating off the ground in a crackle of energy. Any Act of Creation is an inherent fact of the universe – nothing can rend it from this world. The tower’s sigils began to glow brightly, the wood beginning to singe with the power. Those impatient skatalkin who’d scaled the tree to gnaw on its branches quickly found themselves incinerated. In his whimsy, Ixthalizzum introduced Chaos to Magic – one must be wary, for this force can bring dramatic effects. The wards circling the tower now dulled and flickered, with spare Skatalkin racing at the Librarian, only to be turn asunder now by the nimbus of raw energy flowing from his corruscating form. Remember always, Astari, that with our vast power and knowledge comes the responsibility to use it – to use what we know to serve the world. That last was a remark he had made to his apprentice years before, and it was a message he now transmitted to her mind – a farewell. As the rot of Skatal began to consume his body, the energy gathered within him flooded out toward the Tree. The runes glowed brighter than the Sun, before twisting and contorting in chaotic ways. A vast wave of power surged forth, a mix of magical, chaotic and divine energies, blasting forth in an eye blink from the Tree – consuming all in its path. Areon was obliterated instantly, as was everything crowding the Tree. The wave of magical fire blasted apart vermin, disease cloud, tree, survivor and city. But when the smoke cleared, and a new day dawned... the Tree stood. As a fundamental fact of reality, created in the First Age by a God, the Tree could not be harmed by any force – mortal or immortal. Areon’s sacrifice had scoured clean the immediate area of the tree, the entire region covered by Skatal’s plague – but those who had sought shelter within had been spared. It would be years before the Adamantine Tree opened again, its locks undone from the inside. When they did open, it was Astari – the Second Librarian – who stepped forth onto the now barren land. The explosion had left a gaping hole in the forest, the land uninhabitable. The nascent city of Adamant was gone, but many of its people had survived. It now fell to the Magi, and those others who remained, to rebuilt. Kneeling briefly at the site of her master’s sacrifice, Astari took her long claws and scratched runes into the blasted rock. The runes glowed and floated skyward, coalescing into the form of Areon – his hands beckoning those who sought knowledge and the sanctuary of the Tree. This magical memorial would stand for all time, in memory of a man who defied the judgement of a God. Astari looked back, and saw others emerge – they were daunted, fearful, but determined to rebuild. It would take centuries to reclaim the blasted land, and many pockets of Skatal’s diseases would emerge to cause small outbreaks. But as the golems tilled the land, and rebuilt shattered walls and dwellings, life would return to the battered nation of Adamant. And it would have its Librarians to guide it. On a more light-hearted note, come the amorous efforts of the mad-god. Truly INSPIRED by his favourite brother Exitius’ “novel” method of creating God-Touched, whimsical Ixthalizzum embarks on a campaign of romance and seduction aimed at his fellow divines, positively broody with the possibility of procreating as mortals do with his godly siblings – a goal that may be a metaphysical impossibility. But who cares about such things! What matters is, that he/she/it/them is trying! Perhaps love CAN conquer all? To this extremely questionable end, Ixthalizzum spends her accumulated power in the creation of a number of “gifts” that are SURE to woo some of the other godlings. The gift for Exitius, an extremely tall mountain of pure iron, capped with an image of carnality that may be described as “completely tasteless” – a mass of tentacles wearing his beloved Venandi bride’s head humping Exitius – was nevertheless somewhat of an attraction to the local outposts of the Venandi Kingdom. For many years it was considered off limits due to its sudden appearance, but the depiction of Exitius and “Rhea” was soon viewed as a sight of pilgrimage – surely this mountain was created by Exitius himself to honour the lineage of Tyrannos! Mining efforts also take place in its foothills – seeing as “Iron Abs Peak” is essentially a giant source of refined metal. For generations to come, Venandi warriors would march to war wearing vestments forged from the mountain’s bounty, bearing stylised insignia emulating the “divine coupling” pictured on the peak. The Pyramid of True Feelings unceremoniously materialises right next to the somewhat more dour black pyramid intended as the seat of the Soul Stone and the throne of Sylvaniel. She is most alarmed by the depraved ravings, clearly recognising it as a work of the mad-god from her millenium of studies. She decides to leave it for Wol-Kot to deal with, going back to her work. Some of the Worms who emerge nearby are certainly interested, however. Having heard of their creation from Sylvaniel, they are most intrigued to view the works of their other “parent”. Following the “romantic” explosions of several investigating scholars and hedge-wizards, the Screaming Oak is swiftly quarantined to magic users by the Adamantine Mages. Not to mention the fatal consequences of using the runes mentioned in the screaming, the Oak is decidedly offputting for local tribes, and many move away. Were house prices a thing in the Great Forest, they would certainly be tanking in the region of the Screaming Oak. Ravajaniin are a thing! We now have WHITE birdmen. This probably amuses Ixthalizzum. ((Sorry Hyperion. Will update this later with more stuff.)) The Gods feel a great change coming. The time of sleep is nigh. One final turn of the wheel remains to set plans in place, or create now what will be difficult to create in future. LAST TURN BEFORE TIME JUMP TRANSITION TO THE THIRD AGE. Minor Occurences: I’ll make some up later. MAP: Because small Nyren tribes are all over the place I’ve only included the largest/most prominent groups. Red hex on Exitium marks the place that’s been nuked. AP ROLLS: 30AP is the MAXIMUM. If your given roll makes your total exceed 30, the additional power is absorbed by Ao. Wol-Kot – 9+1 Lavrat-es – 5 Vyrnen – 9+1 Skatal – 6+1 Yngbald – 11+3 Ixthalizzum – 5+2 Exitius – 3+3 Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 9+1 – Bruk – ARTIFACTED Do-rah – ARTIFACTED

X=====][ Kingdom of Orsinium ][=====X 4E 841 The white peace from Solitude is accepted. ((more to be added later)) Overview: Leader: King Agrum gro-Kharog Provinces: 7 Trade: Windhelm Current Septims: 18k Military: Grand Army of Orsinium (at Orsinium City) 13,000 Orc Heavy Infantry 5000 Orc Skirmishers 11,000 Orc Archers 2000 Orc Light Cavalry 130 Orc Mages 20 Catapults 31,150 Income: Base Income: 10k Province Income: 2.5k (Orc Bonus – 4 Provinces = 2500) Trade: 1k Economic Investment: 2k – Income Next Turn: 15.5k Current Septims: 18k Actions: 10k – A significant investment is made into the modernisation and securing of Orsinium City’s defenses. Walls are reinforced, towers and crenalations strengthened. Even though snowmelt provides plentiful water, deeper wells and reservoirs and prepared in the event of protracted siege. Already a formidable bastion, manned by a race renowned for their defensive skill, the aim is to make taking the stronghold-city even MORE daunting to the Bretons. Orsinium endures. 4k – 10 catapults are produced. Any breton legion approaching orsinium will be showered with the ruined stone remains of Orsiniums past. Even in death, an Orc’s works can smite the enemies of Malacath. 4k – Arcane and priestly resources are dedicated to a great ritual in Agrum’s name. At the fabled Temple of Ire, the counsel and blessings of the pariah god, patron of the shunned, the daedric prince Malacath are sought. As is his teaching, the Orsimer do not beg for aid and are fully prepared to stand against their foes alone. Instead they ask for Malacath’s blessing to their righteous cause, and any words of wisdom he may have for King Agrum in this uncertain time.

Asgard Republic Kolranate of the Redon Imperium 2162 Leader - Chancellor Helena Askelaand Population - 1,841,681 Humans 22,400 Ymorians 20,061 Redons 419 Kalronians 84 Human-Redons (1,000 Redon Garrison)  --- Total - 1,884,645 --------- DETAILS: STORY: gobble gobble gobble SPACE FORCES: MILITARY REDACTED --- GROUND FORCES: 15,000 x Regular Infantry 4000 x Heavy Infantry 8250 x Tithonus Combat Droid 3000 x Hunter Bot Mk.1 50 x Tank Bot Mk.1 345 x Artillery --------- ACTIONS - AP Pool: 109 Base: 4 Naval Upkeep: -4 Colonised Sectors (not inc. Capital): +3 Population: +12 Resources: +12 Trade: +4 Industry: +12 Business: +24 Agriculture: +12 Shipyard Letting: +30 (1 TURN ONLY) [Totals include AP spent this turn and previously] 0AP – Shipyard capacity (30ap) again let out to the Redon Imperium (+30AP this turn). 2AP – 575 tanks produced. 12AP – Construction of a SL3 Shipyard at Vanaheim. 40AP – Agriculture investment. (+4AP next turn). 25AP – Business investment. (+4AP next turn). 30AP – Essence of Life research resumed, again using microscopic quantities of the Republic’s finite supply of the miraculous substance. Additionally, the Saryn are contacted for insight and assistance into its medical applications and replication – given that they’re both fighting on the same side in a war, hopefully the firstborn will be inclined to assist. (50AP total).

X=====][ Kingdom of Orsinium ][=====X 4E 841 The Camlorn offer of surrender terms is cordially refused, but returned with a personal congratulations of victory at Northpoint from King Agrum. Overview: Leader: King Agrum gro-Kharog Provinces: 11 Trade: Windhelm Current Septims: 18k Military: Grand Army of Orsinium (at Orsinium City) 9000 Orc Heavy Infantry 4000 Orc Skirmishers 8000 Orc Archers 2000 Orc Light Cavalry 80 Orc Mages 5 Catapults 23,080 Income: Base Income: 10k Province Income: 10k (Orc Bonus – 4 Provinces = 2500) Trade: 1000 Economic Investment: 2000 – Income Next Turn: 18k Actions: Recruitment: 6k – 15 Catapults 6k – 4000 Orc Heavy Infantry 1.5k – 2500 Orc Longbowmen 3.5k – 50 Orc Mages 1k – 1000 Orc Skirmishers

THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming Turn 11 And so were born the Three-As-One, decreed rulers of the Thallite people, to a rather confused female Thallite. After partially recovering from both the mental violation of Ixthalizzum’s “blessing”, the extremely sudden progression of a triplet pregnancy and of course the trauma of childbirth, the “chosen one” made the altogether remarkable (for a Thallite) decision not to eat the “spare” offspring. The chosen one and her children are soon caught up in a swift migration into the newly created Great Cave, as the Thallites and many other denizens of the deeps swarm into this new space. For a species who have lived in tunnels all their lives the massive size of the Great Cave has a somewhat agoraphobic effect, and some of the Thallites simply refuse to look up at the ceiling a kilometre above them. Nevertheless, they take to their home with gusto, using magic, tools and artifice to carve out settlements and safeholds within this new battleground of the endless war between the insectoid creations of Wol-Kot, nests of territorial skatalkin, and their bestial Ixkin brethren. In time, the Three-As-One rise to prominence within Thallite society, their incredible skills complementing each other well and covering the weaknesses of the others. Eventually, through a mix of guile, might and sheer creativity, the Three-As-One become nominal rulers of the majority of Thallite tribes. Within the space of a few centuries, the Great Cave is mostly secured, and the Thallites begin to worry somewhat less about NOT being eaten by rampaging monsters and more about internal social development. Nevertheless, their society does become CONSIDERABLY tied to the fortunes of the Three. Crises in Thallite history in this period are often preceeded by the extreme depressive episodes of the First, or boughts of ill-health for the Second, or a catastrophically BAD idea from the crazed mind of the Third that was mistaken for one of his rare moments of genius. An example of the latter is the Flooding of Groh’loth, where an “inspired” irrigation project went awry when an underground aquifer burst into the cave and demolished a town – the Third was non-plussed, stating that there WAS indeed water now, and the WATER was certainly happy with the new state of affairs. These centuries would also see the expansion and solidification of Venandi rule over the entire south of the Great Continent, fuelled by their newfound mastery of the dragons and the actions of one who would go down in history as legend – Tyrannos the Progenitor. Born of a union between Exitius and a young Kin acolyte, an admittedly novel way to create god-touched, Tyrannos’ tribe entirely re-organised itself based on the boy’s prophesised destiny. He was from early childhood stronger, faster and smarter than his peers. Gifted with the keen insight of one that has been touched by the divine, he is leader of the Venandi by skill as well as divine decree. By adulthood he has lead warhosts in great raids to pacify lesser tribes and heretics, as well as forging northward toward the lands of Carda and Yngbald’s Forest. By the end of what would have been a natural Venandi life, almost all Venandi tribes and settlements are bound under the iron rule of Tyrannos, God-King of All Venandi. By his will, raids are sent far and wide on dragon-back to far off lands to lay claim to their spoils and slaves. In time, even Carda and the River Nyren face his wrath. Kin dragon riders clash in the skies of the Soul River against swarms of Pati guardians, with dozens dying to dragonfire and teeth in the defense of their holy mission. Indeed, the only barriers to the conquest of Carda and its associated peoples are the airborne defensive efforts of the Pati, led by the wielder of Kaha’s Spear – the mighty artifact extracting a bloody tally on the raiders – and the efforts of wandering wizards from the Adamantine Tree, who match the Kin battlemages spell-for-spell. A more concerted push northward may be required to truly carve deeply past the Soul River and its peoples, if the Venandi truly desire that. For now, the wolfmen consolidate themselves into a kingdom under the rule of Tyrannos – who soon becomes father to a grand dynasty. Not all children produces from Tyrannos’ harem of worthy mates, both Kin and Venandi, possessed the same god-touched abilities, but many did. At the turn of his fifth century of life, Tyrannos feels that he will not live much longer... perhaps the divine forces involved in creating a single god-touched as opposed to a dynasty leave the dynasty members somewhat weaker than a singular act of creation? Nevertheless, even should the Progenitor soon die, his life has deeply effected the balance of power on the Continent. All but a few scattered tribes of Venandi are united under his descendants, a proto-kingdom well poised to transition into a lasting empire, and perhaps the start of a world conquest. Sylvaniel spends many months travelling the Underpaths, after leaving her master’s temple. Armed with a millenium of scholarly knowledge on magic and the nature of the universe, as well as her mind-dominating Crest, she travels relatively unharmed through the harsh denizens of the deeps. Eventually, her path leads her to an altogether unfamiliar part of the world, finally emerging within the Great Desert, home of the Worms. Judging her position from the movement of the stars, and her knowledge of geography, Sylvaniel finds herself on that desolate continent’s eastern coast – a region home to a small colony of Kyrkal explorers in the shallow waters nearby. Through the influence of her Crest, she ingratiates herself with the Kyrkal and establishes a comfortable abode on the shore using resources this kindred has acquired and can trade for. There, Sylvaniel delves deeply into Soth-Kogarth... which attracts the attention of the primary inhabitants of the desert. Communicating with startled Worms via their dreams, over the next few centuries a veritable Worm Cast is created around her dwelling. She is the first non-Worm that has been able to communicate with them, using a mixture of the illusory mental effects of the Crest of Sylvaniel, the runic script, and the imagery of dreams. Sylvaniel shares some of her vast knowledge with her new Kyrkal and Worm followers, including the importance of dreams, the basic history of reality, and the existence of Wol-Kot. The existence of a world beyond the Desert is revelatory to the Worms, and emissaries from Casts across the continent come to commune and dream with Sylvaniel. The little enclave would be a bizzare sight from afar – a magically constructed manse, a Kyrkal settlement half dragged out of the ocean, and several immense worms pulled up to it like ships pulled into port. How Sylvaniel and her students will go from here is anyone’s guess. Though the Forest Nyren have long interpreted and learned the runic script, the lessons of Ahriman inspire them to create their own written language heavily influenced by the divine script of Yngbald. Societies around the Adamantine Tree become deeply literary, with ideas transmitted far and wide not just via word of mouth but by the written word. Indeed, this transmission of ideas deepens the cohesion of this group until Forest Nyren move toward an idea that has been millenia in the making – a shared group identity, a nation based around their geography, knowledge, and reverence for the Adamantine Tree. This nation becomes known simply as Adamant, with the scattered towns around the tree becoming as one with each other – not quite a city, but a confederation of tribes and settlements united in culture. The Adamantine script becomes the primary written language across the continent, especially in neighbouring Carda and even spreading as far as to the Ravaniin nest colonies and even, in a highly practical form used purely for administration, in the newly established Venandi Kingdom. And from their infinitesimal points of existence as artifacts, the beings Lavrat-es and Skatal are returned to their previous states. They are Gods once more. Other Occurences: The world’s second city is created on the Southern Continent by the longstanding Nyren civilisation inspired by the Herdstone. Named Iranoch, the new metropolis is a fusion of ordered marble architecture and wild spaces, with vast swathes of it left unchecked and free to nature by design. In these spaces, beasts congregate and our encouraged to flourish, with regular hunts from the city’s inhabitants. Also present in these areas, equally shunned and revered by the Iranoch Nyren, are those inspired shamans, leaders and artists who partook too deeply of the Herdstone’s wisdom and succumbed to the wildness it induces. These Wild Ones live bestial lives, living off the land and coming in and out of Iranoch’s wild places at will. They are observed by a silent priesthood who watch from the shadows and seek deeper meaning from the actions of their maddened kin. Should two wild ones procreate, Watchers will whisk away the child – if at all possible – to be raised by the civilised of the city in the (perhaps vain) hope that its parentage heralds auspicious things. MAP: Because small Nyren tribes are all over the place I’ve only included the largest/most prominent groups. Red hex on Exitium marks the place that’s been nuked. AP ROLLS: 30AP is the MAXIMUM. If your given roll makes your total exceed 30, the additional power is absorbed by Ao. Wol-Kot – 8 Lavrat-es – 6 Vyrnen – 8 Skatal – 6 Yngbald – 9+3 Ixthalizzum – 8+1 Exitius – 11+3 Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 8 – Bruk – ARTIFACTED Do-rah – ARTIFACTED Skatal – ARTIFACTED

Asgard Republic Kolranate of the Redon Imperium 2161 Leader - Chancellor Helena Askelaand Population - 1,230,900 Humans 20,000 Ymorians 18,405 Redons 384 Kalronians 77 Human-Redons (1,000 Redon Garrison)  --- Total - 1,269,766 --------- DETAILS: STORY: 2160 had proved a pivotal year in the history of the Asgard Republic, one in which it had demonstrated the effectiveness of its home developed military technology in battle against the invaders, and one in which the idea of an allied galaxy had taken root in the minds of many. It is a truth long accepted among the Republic’s government and citizenry that their capacity in the sheer ability to mobilise resources is limited by its low investment compared to the other human nations. Asgard was rightly considered the poor-man of the south in terms of economic development in its early decades, until the years of Chancellor Stavanger in the aftermath of the Kalronian Occupation and Second Exodus. Stavanger’s insistence on voracious economic investment, both in internal businesses and the strength and competitiveness of Asgarder companies in the wider market, have been credited both with securing vast riches for future development and betraying the simplistic frontier society ideals that many of the Republic’s citizenry value so highly. While not a society as proudly capitalistic as those of the corporate states, Asgard today more closely resembles its nordic predecessors from earth – adopting the Nordic model of economics, and moving away from total communal self sufficiency that was mandated in the early years of harsh Asgard’s settlement. Indeed, a new generation of economic scholars insists on the continued investment in all sectors of society in order to maximise the benefits for all its citizens – providing federal government with more “Active Potential”, or “AP” as they refer to it, to spend on defensive considerations and in improving the quality of life of the citizenry. Whatever the scholarly debate, the fact remains that investment in business, industry and agriculture by the federal government, both in public ownership and sweeping subsidies for private businesses, has shown vast benefits for Asgarder state’s ability to get things done. To this end, Chancellor Askelaand spent the good part of the start of the year justifying to the two houses of congress why they would not be producing more military vessels this year despite the continued and increasing threat of alien invaders. It was instead argued that the production of Redon vessels for the Imperium’s fleet at Asgard station would be vastly profitable, with the profits in turn invested in domestic economic sectors. These sectors would in turn fuel the defensive effort, allowing more “AP” to be generated and later spent on warships, training and equipment. This was indeed to be a total war, but a war economy required one to HAVE an economy first. In a far flung section of a territorial claim that was derelict of the special resources that would draw independent civilian traffic, a blocky space station hung in the silent interstellar void. It was without a transponder, with no means of detection on civilian or foreign starcharts of the area, but received a steady stream of transports that were similarly without tracking devices. It was in this facility that the most devastating weapons in the Republic’s arsenal were produced, so devastating that their existence was mandated only to those within the security council. The concept of a Weapon of Mass Destruction was not a new one to humanity, nor to the Republic itself. Indeed, prior to the advent of space-based combat vessels, nuclear missile silos had been built in remote areas of the icy homeworld for asteroid defense scenarios. But the dark foundry in the midst of desolate space was intended for far more deadly weaponry – missiles capable of carrying such quantities of refined xylorite explosives that they would make the most attrocious of Earth-born nukes look like mere child’s things. The idea of using one on a planet was abhorrent, even to the dark minds of the shadowy Protocol 12 and the ruthless pragmatists of Fleet Intelligence. These ship-based xylorite WMDs would instead be destined for the spacecraft of the Republic’s most overwhelming foes, designed for the terrible arithmitic of saving friendly lives at the cost of the instant obliteration of the innumerable foe. Requiring resources and specialist production methods equal in scale to an entire battleship, these single use weapons promise to be singularly effective as a silver bullet against extremely hard enemy targets. So far one has been produced, to be mounted in the missile silos of one of the new battleships. Whether it will see use against the Drag’nix swarm or the vast warfleets of the invading Ar’gakari remains to be seen. With matters of war and survival concerning the Republic’s higher powers, perhaps a spark of hope could be seen in the fresh start provided to poor Ymorian refugees by the Asgard Refugee Resettlement program. Fleeing the devastation of the north, these molluscoid refugees are given a warm welcome courtesy of the Asgard Diplomatic Corps. As with previous settlement waves, they are offered the opportunity to settle in either pre-existing locations or to join new settlements being constructed regularly on the frontiers of Vanaheim and Freyja. Many choose the latter option, wishing to create enclaves of home in a new place, rather than assimilate totally into an established alien society, but still enjoy the assistance of the federal and state governments welcoming them. Minorities of the Ymorians create new cultural enclaves in the cosmopolitan cities of Asgard and the capitals of Vanaheim and Freyja, wishing to live in more “civilised” environs, despite the culture shock. Corresponding to the sudden population increase, the government invests once again in the agricultural sector, with planetside farms and orbital agricultural stations providing more than enough surplus food to keep longtime Asgarders and new immigrants fed, happy and out of poverty. SPACE FORCES: MILITARY REDACTED --- GROUND FORCES: 15,000 x Regular Infantry 4000 x Heavy Infantry 8250 x Tithonus Combat Droid 3000 x Hunter Bot Mk.1 50 x Tank Bot Mk.1 --------- ACTIONS - AP Pool: 123 Base: 4 Naval Upkeep: -4 Colonised Sectors (not inc. Capital): +3 Population: +8 Resources: +12 Trade: +4 Industry: +12 Business: +16 Agriculture: +8 Shipyard Letting: +60 (1 TURN ONLY) [Totals include AP spent this turn and previously] 3AP – 345 Mobile kinetic-projectile Artillery pieces. 10AP – Ship-based Xylorite WMD. 20AP – Investigation of Ar’gakari computer and comms technology from captured equipment in Allied stores. 40AP – Agriculture investments. (+4AP next turn) 50AP – Business investments. (+8AP next turn)

THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming Turn 10 With the aid of mighty Vu’u, the Nyren of the River reform their simple riverside settlements into the world-sphere’s first true city. It takes the resources and work of a generation, even with the aid of the Avatar, but sure enough there soon stands a shining marble metropolis at the mouth of the river. The ornate walls protect from attack from the land, and vigilant eyes watch the rivers and patrol them in sleek boats. Marble gargoyles in the shape of Pati watch the faithful from above as angelic protectors, and busts of Vu’u are common adornments to plazas and squares. Upon its completion, a grand procession is lead through the city by the priesthood of Kaha-Nu-Buhu, culminating in a twilight candlelit boat procession to the mighty ziggurut temple standing within the middle of the river, the light of the Ruby Moon illuminating the passage of the faithful. By day the city bustles with activity, fed by the plentiful river and the beasts of the Soul Reef beyond. By night are made benedictions to the ancestors and to the Ruby Lady and her lion, with grand flotillas of barques leaving the ziggurat to pay homage at Kaha’s self-made Temple further downstream. The city will become known as Carda, a name that will ring out through history as the oldest city on the planet, and certainly the first whose construction was mandated by a god. Nyren from distant tribes and small villages are awed by its sight, for truly nothing comparable exists in most of the world. Even delegations from the Forest are awed, and priests of Kaha from the Tree itself come to make pilgrimage to the holy city and learn more accurately the sacred rites of the dead, the ancestors, and the immortal Soul. For now, Carda is but a city-state on the Soul Coast but surely it will command a grander place in history. Exitius acts in the world to provide his warlike children with greater mastery over the arcane, creating an entire subrace gifted in such matters. Though the Venandi were not in any way stunted magically, their new Kin are positive savants. Though few survive the rituals to create these respected and feared war-mages, the Kin possess magical skill and intuition equal to the average Forest Nyren wizard at least, and at best see the magical world and the applications of the runic script with a natural eye beyond even the most learned scholar. Indeed, the Kin become the first sentients on the World-Sphere to use complex metal constructions, using runic magic to mine and smelt – with some even capable of shaping adamantium into useable shapes, and imbuing them with eldritch power. A side effect of their creation, perhaps unintended by Exitius is that the Kin can indeed breed with each other to create viable offspring – a fact soon learned, and then concealed from the rest of the Venandi. Time will tell whether this will lead to an entire offshoot society, or ruling caste, or whether the Kin will remain as the shamanic support for their wider race. As well as creating the Kin, Exitius’s power flows once more into the world in the form of the Dragon, brought into being from its destruction at the Shatter Peak along with the Horror of Ixthalizzum. It still screams in its first few moments of rebirth, before settling once more into this world. It is once again ready to do its master’s bidding. Yngbald’s staff is recieved with great awe and celebration by the wizards, shamans and priests of the Adamantine Tree. For the next centuries many will come to wield it, but almost never in anger. It remains a mostly ceremonial and scientific object, used to heighten ones knowledge of the magical world. Indeed, under the direction of its users, the collective knowledge of the Nyren mages continues to accelerate. The rest of the gods are idle for now, but one has been idle for too long. By the will of Almighty Ao, Overgod of All, the indolent plaguelord Skatal is condensed into an artefact – the Pariah’s Amulet. Its wielder is conferred great health and total resistance to disease and afflictions, past, present and future, at the cost of becoming an asymptomatic carrier for a painful and deadly pestilence that strikes down those near. Such is the curse of Skatal’s essence that should the wearer forsake his amulet that they too shall be striken with the horrific disease – until they wear it once more. It falls silently into the long-ruined meeting hall of a Nyren village ravaged by plague on the continent of the Great Burrow. The mindless Skatalkin vermin infesting that place regard it with awe. Minor Occurences: Whilst holy Carda is rightfully considered the World-Sphere’s first city, urbanism is becoming an increasingly prevalent phenomenon. Complex towns are developing in the former lands of Do-rah, and the settlements surrounding the Adamantine Tree are fast becoming more interlinked. A society forms among a section of the learned wizards and priests of the Forest Nyren, who – upon reading the enigmatic script of all that is and has been from the walls of the Adamantine Tree – become somewhat curious about the nature of the so-called Lost Gods, those who have been artifacted. Time will tell if this society develops into anything more than academic curiousity... A far flung Ravaniin nest colony makes contact with the Pati. Not being afforded the holy protection of Vu’u like the Nyren, this goes less than smoothly for the crow-men. The colony is abandoned within a few years, but many of its former inhabitants are “guests” of the Pati for considerably longer... Contact is made between a migrating Kyrkal kindred and the Myrdians dwelling in and around the temple at Yngbald’s Folly. They find their wailing, orca-like languages to be remarkably similar and communication is far simpler for them than it is between the likes of Nyren, Ravaniin, Pati and Venandi. A Thallite sorceror by the name of Frogath-yoz’Oth declares himself King of Thallites, then promptly decides against the silly idea and later commits suicide out of embarassment with a demolition sigil drawn onto his forehead. Still, it’s a funny old idea, and his peers contemplate the idea of monarchy and statehood while consuming his corpse. Maybe it will catch on? The idea of tenderising meat with demolition spells CERTAINLY will. MAP: Because small Nyren tribes are all over the place I’ve only included the largest/most prominent groups. Red hex on Exitium marks the place that’s been nuked. AP ROLLS: Wol-Kot – 7 Vyrnen – 12 Yngbald – 9+2 Ixthalizzum – 8 Exitius – 8+2 Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 6+3 – Bruk – ARTIFACTED Do-rah – ARTIFACTED Lavrat-es – ARTIFACTED Skatal – ARTIFACTED

X=====][ Kingdom of Orsinium ][=====X 4E 840 for Czar~ “SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF MALACATH!” Agrum stands at the head of his army, resplendent in a full suit of Orc-forged plate, a warhammer raised high above his head. The City of Northpoint lies in the background, as yet untouched by Orcish siege weapons. The combined forces of Northpoint and their Camlorn allies await on the hills nearby. “For THREE THOUSAND YEARS, have the Orsimer been spat on, shat on and shafted by the so called ‘civilised races’!” Grumbles of anger and discontent ripple through the Orcish lines. “Whenever we declare our right to rule ourselves, to rule our lands in our own name we have been STAMPED DOWN by those who fear our might! Torug gro-Igron’s city was laid low by the fears of Bretons and Redguards. Gortwog’s city was destroyed by the Imperial despots from Cyrodiil! Now those forces come at us again, when we have taken FIRST BLOOD in the inevitable battle. NEVER AGAIN will Orsinium wait to be struck down. NEVER AGAIN will Orsinium beg for its right to exist. WE ARE ORSIMER! We are the Children of the Pariah God, hated from birth, feared for our strength. They say WE are the aggressors, when we all know that should we grow complacent that they will strike us down, to keep us in our place. They deny us our kingdom, but when theirs needed building they demanded our service. ORC BLOOD built the COVENANT. ORC BLOOD built the LEGIONS. And now, ORC BLOOD will build ORSINIUM. They think themselves our betters, they who cherish our blood shed on their fields in their names, and our weapons and armour in their hands. We are the greatest and bravest warriors Tamriel has EVER known! AND WE DEMAND OUR RIGHT TO RULE!” The Grand Army breaks out in a cacophany of roars and cheers. Agrum turns to his adjutants. “Re-align the catapults. Ready the Mages. Prepare for combat on the field.” Overview: Leader: King Agrum gro-Kharog Provinces: 19 Trade: Windhelm Current Septims: 23k Military: Grand Army of Orsinium (at NORTHPOINT) 10,000 Orc Heavy Infantry (+4000 from Northpoint Strongholds) 7000 Orc Skirmishers 4000 Orc Longbowmen 2000 Orc Light Cavalry 100 Orc Mages 5 Catapults 4 Battering Rams 23,100 Income: Base Income: 10k Province Income: 10k (Orc Bonus – 4 Provinces = 2500) Trade: 1000 Economic Investment: 2000 – Income Next Turn: 23k Actions: Imperial intervention by Dragonstar and Skaven is decried as Cyrodiilic colonialism. This is a matter for the denizens of the north-west, not for predatory nobles who claim lands far from their ancestral territory. This is made clear by town criers in various nations. Solitude is rebuked for its intervention. The Nords and the Orcs have had a long history of friendship (or at the very least, tolerance). To see the sons of Solitude siding with Bretons and Imperials shames their noble bloodline. Diplomats in Windhelm implore Jarl Oskar to speak sense to his kinsmen. Surely the Nords would do better securing their own province from foreign invaders rather than adventuring into a conflict in High Rock? Hegathe is thanked for its support. In response, Orsinium officially recognises the Hegathan claim to Daggerfall and the Glenumbra Peninsula in perpetuity, with the exception of the small island of Betnikh, an Orsimer Stronghold. The Hegathans will be duly compensated for the island at the conclusion of the war. Orcish Strongholds in the traditionally EXTREMELY Orcish Dragontail mountains are encouraged to rebel. King Agrum had intended for peace with the Redguards, but no longer. The Orcs of Dragontail are brothers to their Wrothgarian kin. Show no mercy to the meddling Sentinels! King Agrum arranges marriages with various prominent warrior women, stronghold princesses and even a Grand Army officer. Bam Bam must wait, however. There’s a battle to be won! BATTLE TAKES PLACE AT NORTHPOINT CITY. Investment: 8000 Septims – Mercenary bands are recruited for basic defense of Kingdom and harassment of the invading enemy armies, particular in the east of the kingdom against the Nords and Imperials. The aim is to slow those armies down. Hit and run attacks are suggested. Recruitment: 3000 Septims – 6000 Orcish Longbowmen are recruited. 6000 Septims – 4000 Orcish Heavy Infantry are recruited. 4000 Septims – 4000 Orcish Skirmishers are recruited. 2000 Septims – 5 Catapults are constructed. All of the above are rallied at Orsinium City itself, to bolster the standing Garrison and prepare for counter-attacks.

X=====][ Kingdom of Orsinium ][=====X 4E 839 In the year 4E 839, King Agrum gro-Kharog demanded the vassalisation of the Breton duchy of Northpoint. To cement his claim, the Grand Army of Orsinium was deployed en masse into Northpoint’s territory. They march directly to Northpoint City and encamp there, where Agrum gives the following speech to his lords, and the invited leaders of local strongholds. “My father’s conquests took much land from the Breton dukes. Land that in time they will want back. Mark my words, when we are weakened, they shall strike to reclaim their land, and they shall not stop until Orsinium is in ashes once more and our people scattered to the winds. This I cannot allow. For the security of our nation, the Bretons must be cowed. They will either fear us in independence, or serve us as vassals. So it must be that Northpoint must be bent to the Kingdom of Orsinium.” War and vassalisation aside, missives are sent round across Orsinium for wives for King Agrum. A nasty outbreak of Khnahaten Flu had left his entire household either dead or barren... therefore, Agrum seeks new wives to make new heirs. Overview: Leader: King Agrum gro-Kharog Provinces: 19 Trade: Windhelm (next turn) Current Turn Septims: 21k Military: 6000 Orc Heavy Infantry 7000 Orc Skirmishers 4000 Orc Longbowmen 1000 Orc Light Cavalry 100 Orc Mages 5 Catapults 13,050 Income: Base Income: 10k Province Income: 10k (Orc Bonus – 4 Provinces = 2500) Trade: 1000 Economic Investment: 1000 – Income Next Turn: 23k Actions: Vassalisation request sent to duchy of Northpoint. WAR declared on the Duchy of Northpoint. Grand Army of Orsinium marched north from Sharnhelm to besiege the City of Northpoint. The Orsimer strongholds in the territory of Northpoint are told of the coming of Orsinium and are invited to join in the annexation. They are promised to be the eyes and ears of Orsinium within the territory after vassalisation, with taxation rights on the surrounding Breton lands. To sweeten the deal, septims are offered as proof of Orsinium’s generosity and wealth. (2k Septims given in gifts) Wives are sought. These can either be strong warriors, wise women, or marriages of political convenience with stronghold leaders in Northpoint territory, to cement relations. Investment: 10k into Economy. Recruitment: 6000 Septims – 4 Orc Battering Rams 4000 Septims – 1000 Orc Light Cavalry

THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming Turn 9 And so it came to pass that a new form of being was brought into existence. The stuff of the void wrought into form is one thing, sentience another. But to suffuse a creation with the very essence of divinity, to make sacred the profane... that is an act unlike any other. Akin to the Overgod. As her last breath was rattled in the pallid air of the Temple, so was Sylvaniel reborn as the first of the god-touched. Gifted to her is but a whisper of the power of a god, as a god is but a whisper of Ao, but a whisper is enough. Already her life is extended long, long beyond the limits of traditional mortality, her mind and body altered to be a vessel for immense power now within. As decreed, Sylvaniel is now Wol-Kot’s favoured servant, but as she is now akin to the divine she is not bound to his will. Truely, she is grateful... but will her interests always align with his? Time will tell. For now, Sylvaniel spends her centuries reading the Temple walls, viewing the world through the Eye, and exploring the dreamscape of Soth-Kogarth. From the blasted wastes of Exitium are the Venandi pack hunters delivered, being sent forth to the lands on the northern border of the Crag of Ixthalizzum, south of the Nyren of the River. There their lord transforms them into sentients, eschewing claw and tooth for the certainty of the spear and the axe. Now a bipedal lupine people, the Venandi retain their strong pack hunter instincts and the gaze of the predator. Their packs settle their new lands quickly, and soon remember their old instincts for battle, and newer ones for conquest and war. Within a few sparse decades, Venandi raiding parties were sighted in Nyren territories across the south of the Great Continent, loping into range on all fours then rising to kill with claw and spear. They fight for resources, for food, captives and the honour of combat. Even the Nyren of the River begin to feel the pressure, until the arrival of their new saviours. Ever the enigma, Kaha-Nu-Buhu ends the predations of her newest children by transforming many of them into ghastly feeding bags for their starving kin. As Vu’u decreed, their assaults on the Nyren are ceased and many prisoners are returned to the edges of Nyren territory, drained, emaciated, but perhaps grateful for still being alive. Relations between the Pati and Nyren of the River remain strained for many decades, even with consiliatory approaches by Pati warriors, who descend with dark glee upon raiding packs of Venandi warriors. The First Wielder of Kaha’s Spear ((I’m not typing that name out)) takes a leading position among the Pati communities, spreading the word of Vu’u’s decree to the most distant of Pati colonies. Upon his death, the Spear is passed down to the greatest of warriors in a great festival of combat in which the losers are devoured and the victory is given the honour of leading the great warhost of the scattered clans. In latter decades, this rite was even attended by Nyren priests and tribal dignitaries, as relations softened and the role of the Pati as protectors of the Nyren became clear. Speech remains difficult between the two for physiological reasons, but Kaha’s intent for peace is clear. But that peace is soon disrupted by the machinations of the mad god. Ixthalizzum had not known of Kaha’s intend for peace. Or perhaps she had, and he had just chosen to ignore it? A cabal of those who had lost much to the Pati swarms, parents and priests missing sons and loved ones, journeyed south to the crag, losing some to the predations of the savage Venandi, but continuing on heedless. Once at the madlands of Ixthalizzum, they cast forth their most prized possessions – many of which included icons of their ancestors, or even idols of mighty Vu’u. At this point was revealed the location of the stone. Only a few made it back the Nyren territory, but those who did found themselves in possession of the moonward stone. Returning with it to the largest settlement they were first greeted as heroes, for the stone did indeed drive back and strike fear in the hearts of the Pati raiders... but soon the madness set in. Slowly at first, the Heroes of the Stone succumbed to derrangement and cannibalism, soon erupting into a frenzied feast when confronted with rumours of their heresies in casting out idols of Vu’u. In a vast twist of irony, it would be the Pati who would come to defend the Nyren from the hungering madmen, only to be driven out by the Stone’s influence. Convinced of their moral superiority and disgusted by their kin’s softening of relations with the batfolk, the Moonward Heroes and their closest followers fled into the wilderness to care for their treasure – free from the Pati, but free also from sanity. Having watched and nurtured the sentients of others for millenia, Yngbald returns to an old project with fresh intentions. In the seas known both as the Ghost Sea and Yngbald’s Folly, the arcane god brings forth a race of aquatic beings to mirror Vyrnen’s Kyrkal. These rubbery skinned beings, known to themselves as Myrdians take up residence at the sight of the temple that once spewed forth poison into the ocean, but no longer. It seems time has softened the wrath of Ao, and the seas themselves no longer reek of death and poison, but its effects linger. The vicious skeletal remains of both the “good” and “evil” denizens of this place in the First Age still battle each other mindlessly, the seafloor littered with the thousands that have long since been smashed apart in the melee. This pull of “good” and “evil” even begins to effect the nascent Myrdians, but the effect is lessened in proximity to the temple. As erudite and cunning as their creator, the Myrdians swiftly establish their homes within the massive god-created edifice that once brought death to the region, and explore further afield as time and resources permit. They use their ingenuity and skill to bring back living plant species to the seafloor surrounding the temple, and herd schools of fish into the area for easy farming. The dead still roam but, thanks to the Myrdians, life is returning to Yngbald’s Folly. fckin fetish dolphins Also of note are the creation of two avatars, an unnamed Ravaniin shaped creature by Vyrnen, acting as their guardian, and the armoured nyrenoid sorceror known as Ahriman by Yngbald. Time will tell how these agents of the divines will be utilised. Minor Occurences: The Thallites manage to establish a relatively safe and stable honeycomb of tunnels within the chaotic mess of the Underpaths. They begin to construct a rudimentary polity down there in the deep dark, expanding slowly using the age old method of feeding the insane to the horrors, and then following it up with a barrage of magic – some of it actually having the intended effect and not just turning the user into a living grenade! The Nyren of the Forest continue their deep fascination with the Adamantine Tree, and its wellspring of magical knowledge. Already they have gained a rudimentary understanding of how the universe was created, and of the many different divinities. Rudimentary cults to each begin to develop, with Yngbald’s cult naturally being paramount. Shamans, priests, and secular-focused scholars all work and study in harmony within the tree. MAP: Because small Nyren tribes are all over the place I’ve only included the largest/most prominent groups. Red hex on Exitium marks the place that’s been nuked. AP ROLLS: Wol-Kot – 10+3 Vyrnen – 7+3 Skatal – 5 Yngbald – 7+1 Ixthalizzum – 5+3 Exitius – 7+1 Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 6+3 – Bruk – ARTIFACTED Do-rah – ARTIFACTED Lavrat-es – ARTIFACTED

X=====][ Kingdom of Orsinium ][=====X 4E 838 -doing quickly- Overview: Leader: King Agrum gro-Kharog Provinces: 19 Trade: Windhelm (next turn) Current Turn Septims: 21k Military: 4000 Orc Heavy Infantry 5000 Orc Skirmishers 3000 Orc Longbowmen 1000 Orc Light Cavalry 50 Orc Mages 13,050 Income: Base Income: 10k Province Income: 10k (Orc Bonus – 4 Provinces = 2500) Trade: 1000 – Income Next Turn: 22k Actions: 10k into Economy Recruitment: 2000 Septims – 5 Catapults 3000 Septims – 2000 Orc Heavy Infantry 1000 Septims – 1000 Orc Skirmishers 3500 Septims – 50 Orc Mages 500 Septims – 1000 Orc Longbowmen

X=====][ Kingdom of Orsinium ][=====X 4E 837 So it was that Agrum, son of Garthag, ascended to his throne in the Great Keep of Orsinium to hold court once more. Much had been accomplished in the reign of his father, and much more had been consolidated so far by Agrum. The clans and strongholds of Wrothgarian and eastern High Rock had either willingly sworn to the resurgent Orsimer state, or had been brought to heel by force. The Code of Malacath was absolute – strength ruled, and Orsinium had demonstrated its undisputed mastery of its territory and vassals. The great king’s mind turned to other matters. For the first time in over a thousand years, Orsinium stood as a strong independent nation, not shackled to an Empire in Cyrodiil, a Dominion in Summerset, or to the whims of the jealous kings of the Bretons or Redguards. No. Now was the time to build a kingdom that would never again by divided and conquered by its foes. No more would the Orsimer be maligned as a barbarous servant race. The sons and daughters of Malacath would never again be scattered to the winds. This land was theirs, and Orsinium would never again be sundered by the fearful outsiders. To safeguard the kingdom, Agrum decreed the creation of a new Grand Army of Orsinium, an expansion of his own clan’s forces independent of any stronghold or tribal affiliations, sworn to the state of Orsinium and its King alone. Overview: Leader: King Agrum gro-Kharog Provinces: 19 Trade: Windhelm (next turn) Current Turn Septims: 20k Income: Base Income: 10k Province Income: 10k (Orc Bonus – 4 Provinces = 2500) Trade: 1000 – Income Next Turn: 21k Actions: Recruitment: 6000 Septims – 4000 Orc Heavy Infantry 5000 Septims – 5000 Orc Skirmishers 1500 Septims – 3000 Orc Longbowmen 4000 Septims – 1000 Orc Light Cavalry 3500 Septims – 50 Orc Mages

THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming Turn 8 Once more the world-sphere shook to the newborn cries of emergent beings. Ever the proliferator of life, Vyrnen creates yet another race to add to the tapestry of this rich planet – this time far beneath the oceans. Where once was silence, or merely the rabid calls of the Chaos Orb’s behemoths, the ocean between the major continents sings with the ethereal calls of the Kyrkal. These tough hided sea-dwellers are not quite as potent as Vyrnen intended, but are nevertheless quite enigmatic. A Kyrkal’s immediate family will range from several dozen to several hundred individuals, all stemming from a paramount mated pair – duality is a key feature of their emergent philosophy, as is the importance of family. Kyrkal are extremely proliferate breeders, reaching sexual maturity swiftly and with females spending much of their lives in brief periods of pregnancy. Extended family clans – referred to as Kindreds – can encompass many thousands of individuals from a comparatively small number of breeding pairs. Often, Kyrkal colonists will only depart to new hunting grounds with a handful of couples, and give rise to a flourishing kindred within a generation. But with this rapid breeding comes the inevitable – food and habitation pressures, and predation. Whilst the family is cherished, the death of one’s siblings to the harsh realities of survival is an accepted part of life. As such, a bizarre indifference to this sort of mortality occurs. With so many relatives, and so many new ones born so often, grief is often short-lived and the Kyrkal are not above sacrificing large numbers of family members in the name of the greater Kindred’s survival. This is not callousness, merely pragmatism. One way to offset this tragedy of overpopulation is settlement of new areas, but this brings with it its own risks. Many are the Kyrkal scouts who have died to the hungry maws of a behemoth, or those who have never returned from the eternal battle of skeletal fish in the vast Yngbald’s Folly. Contact with the land has proven equally hazardous, with Nyren fisherfolk in the few isolated settlements in this part of the world mistaking the intelligent Kyrkal for mere beasts, or perhaps mythical sea monsters to be hunted for fame. Nevertheless, the Kyrkal remain undaunted and in all likelihood will have spread around the world-sphere’s oceans in a few turns of the divine game. Whatever the future holds for the Kyrkal, they will perhaps have to master their use of resources and curtail their own numbers – lest they breed themselves to extinction. Overjoyed with the fantastic dual-victory/defeat/draw he had taken part in with Exitius, Ixthalizzum turned his attention to more creative pursuits. Altering the form of the bestial, jibbering Ixkin, the mad god adds sentient life to the Underpaths... although “sentient” is a rather subjective term for many of them. Like their creator, many of these new Thallites are utterly insane, mentally stunted or downright weird. Still, a good number possess that greatest of traits common to Ixthalizzum – imagination! And with imagination comes ingenuity. Namely, the ingenuity to use your crazed brethren as food if there’s simply no use to be gained from them! As well as the potential for mania is the great inherent skill these mad cephalopods have for magic. It seems the Ix-given thoughts constantly scrawling through their brains have gifted them quite the inspiration for magic, and some have discovered the runic script quite by accident with something as innocent as blood doodling. For now, the Thallites have established a rudimentary tribal society in the Underpaths, for the most part consisting of a strict hierarchy reaching from the sane and magically gifted to the stunted yet useful slaves and further down to the gibbering walking meals. Day to day affairs largely concerned with defending against or distracting their lesser evolved Ixkin brethren and the myriad horrors clash with them regularly courtesy of Wol-Kot’s original act of life creation in the great caves. Their techniques are many, from the simple application of protective wards, to the altogether more hilarious use of a stampede of mad Thallites to draw off a hunting pack. Who knew that getting the mentally disabled to run gleefully to their doom was as simple as pointing and shouting? After proselytising to the Nyren of the River, Kaha-Nu-Buhu adds an altogether more sinister force into the world on their very doorstep. Soon tales of horror fill the meeting places of the Nyren faithful, tales of massive flying beasts descending from above to ****** away friends and family, carrying them off to places unknown. Their loved ones search for their souls in the afterlife, and those capable of it in the dreamworld, but are horrified to find nothing. The disappeared have no place in the afterlife, for that is reserved for those whose souls are intact. The vile Pati, however, deny their victims the gift of their mother goddess. These winged horrors carry their prey back to foul nest spires in the foothills and taller forests of the northern swamplands, places of drug-addled imprisonment and cattle-hood for those taken, perpetually kept in a dream-like state while the soul ichor their dread captors crave is sucked from the deepest recesses of their being. Upon awakening into the world, these beings were cursed with a foul fate by their creator, to be born without soul ichor of their own, and this fate drove them to even fouler impulses. Finding the the ichor of thinking beings to be of far sweeter sustenance than feeding on mere flesh-food animals, the Pati stalk the blood-lit skies of the night for isolated pockets of Nyren habitation. Dark legend and terrible myth comes to fruition in the terrified hearts of Kaha-Nu-Buhu’s faithful on the Soul Coast, as the passing of the Madman’s Moons can turn day to night – triggering a baleful fate for those caught to close to a stalking Pati. The passing orbits of Ix, Thal and Izzum work not only to the Pati’s favour, however, as the moons reflect the light of the distant sun back into the night, illuminating stalking Pati for the keen aim of Nyren hunters. Casualties occur on both sides, but the Pati continue to reap their silent tally upon the Nyren of the River. At the largest of the River Nyren gatherings, near Kaha’s sacred temple, priests and shamans pray for deliverence to their lion idols of Vu’u for deliverence. Little do they know that the avatar’s mistress is the architect of their horror. The creation of new life is not the only godly occurence this turn, for the dreaming lord Wol-Kot turns his covetous gaze to the Adamantine Tree and the Eye of Yngbald. Delivering his command to the Nyren shaman Sylvaniel via the ellusive Thokub-Nir, Wol-Kot offered the priestess immense power and knowledge in exchange for carrying to him the jewel of the mage-god. So offensive was the Eye’s existence to a being as secretive and mistrusting, Wol-Kot bade Sylvaniel enter the Tree’s heart before any of her other kin could use it. No mortal before had been given such a direct task by a deity, nor one so antagonistic to a sibling god. Nonetheless, Sylvaniel, ever curious and ever ambitious, went forth to fulfill the Dreamer’s request. In the labyrinthine passages of the Tree, Sylvaniel worked tirelessly to pass the final runic tests that her fellows had so far failed to unravel. Sure enough, with time, effort, and the work of Thokub-Nir in isolating the Tree from the Forest Nyren, Sylvaniel breached the inner sanctum. She was confronted with an awe inspiring sight, the very air thrumming with magic, sigils emblazoning the air and wood. In the ceiling far above she saw runes spelling out the very history of all that has happened in Creation, an awesome sight as the runes themselves continued to form before her eyes. It would take a lifetime to decipher it all... but that was not her goal. Sylvaniel steeled her mind and continued on to the chamber of the Eye. Upon touching it she was graced with prescient vision of whatever she wished, and wisely deducted that the unguarded mind would be driven mad. Wresting her gaze from the eye, Sylvaniel covered it in cloth and spirited it out of the Tree. Thokub-Nir waited there. ((Note to Wolcott – seeings as each turn here is about 500 years, if you want to god-touch Sylvaniel, we’ll just say you did it then. God-touching effectively makes a sentient immortal if cast on an individual and not a dynasty, so include how she spent the last few centuries in your post.)) As the unnatural fog lifted from the Tree, the Forest Nyren’s shamans scrambled to their prize. They were shocked to find the last of the puzzles that they had hoped to overcome already solved, and the way laid open. Sylvaniel is missed, but not suspected – for so many went missing trying to reach the Tree in the dark days. Despite their confusion, they were as awed as the traitorous Sylvaniel to see the heart of the Adamantine Tree. Over the next few generations it becomes a place of great learning for these Nyren shamans, becoming the most adept magic users heretofore seen on the World-Sphere. Perhaps this is thanks to Wol-Kot and Sylvaniel, or perhaps the Nyren would have opened the way on their own. Either way, the shamans can tell something is missing from the inner sanctum and have their distinct suspicions about the unnatural fog. They will spend the rest of their lives, and the lives of their apprentices, attempting to decipher the world-sphere’s history from the writings there. The Eye’s theft aside, all is going along comfortably according to Yngbald’s design. Sleeping gods sleep, biding their time and their power. Yngbald is among them, as is Skatal. Exitius is silent too, perhaps licking his wounds... or conserving his power for a counter-offensive against the contrary-god. Most fractious though is news rippling out from the Void in a familiar tone. Lavrat-es, creator of the world-sphere, has been artifacted. She becomes the AXIS OF THE WORLD, a sceptre with the power to reshape reality akin to a deity’s abilities. ((Allows mortals to use shape land and shape climate)). The AXIS falls into familiar territory, at the heart of Lavrat-es’ bizarre pocket dimension, in her tower there. Guarded by her now orphaned titans. Minor Occurences: The Nyren of the South establish sustainable agriculture, a first for the sentients. Surely influenced by the Herdstone’s civilising influence. The Nyren of Skatal’s continent migrate away from their previous plague stricken settlements, which are swiftly overrun with crawler shrooms and skatalkin. A far southern Ravaniin nest-village makes somewhat peaceful contact with the Nyren of the Forest. This most northern clan of the Forest Nyren have moved there to avoid the spooky happenings at the Adamantine Tree. Though neither side is quite capable of understanding each other, at the very least there hasn’t been a genocide. Populations of Dragons (non-sentient) are now present on most of the world’s mountain ranges, having fled Exitium centuries ago. The first Worm explorer survives a trip into the Underpaths a significant distance and returns to tell the tale. It’s experience is largely unpleasant and unflattering, encountering mostly feuding horrors and Ixkin which it effortlessly consumed, but reported to the others that its dreams felt far more intense down beneath the sands. This intrigues the explorer’s Cast, and the news quickly spreads throughout Worm “society”. MAP: Because small Nyren tribes are all over the place I’ve only included the largest/most prominent groups. Red hex on Exitium marks the place that’s been nuked. AP ROLLS: Wol-Kot – 9+3 Vyrnen – 6+3 Skatal – 10 Yngbald – 5 Ixthalizzum – 6+3 Exitius – 7 Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 9+3 – Bruk – ARTIFACTED Do-rah – ARTIFACTED Lavrat-es – ARTIFACTED

we back boys Holding: Kingdom of Orsinium Leader Name and Background: Agrum gro-Kharog. King of Orsinium, Uniter of the Wrothgarian, True Son of Malacath and self-declared Lord of All the Orsimer. King Agrum is both a fierce combatant and a shrewd ruler, relying on a coterie of advisors and clan chieftains for issues outside his personal expertise. Determined to build a lasting kingdom and not another Orsimer nation swept away by the tides of history, the proud greenskinned people of eastern High Rock are ready and willing to fight for their rightful place in Tamriel. Skype Name: You have it dog.

THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming Turn 7 Once more, the World-Sphere was riven with the actions of the Divines. For five thousand years there had been silence and order in the Void. Now the Gods have returned, and they have plans to enact; wills to be made manifest. And lo, for the opening actions of this new age were those of Destruction. For millenia have the titan avatars of Exitius and Ixthalizzum fought over the now blackened and blighted rocks of Exitium, driving away animals in fear and scarring the earth with their duel. No more, for both gods now seek to end this battle in their favour. These godlings have learned nothing. For when they were made, Ao decreed that all divines were equal in power. Neither the clash of avatars, nor the application of cataclysm can change this. Yet still do the Dragon That Is Exitius, and the Horror of Ixthalizzum prepare their most horrendous of acts. Both channelling the power of their patrons into vast acts of destruction, divine fire meets raw chaotic magic on the last battlefield. Once it had been the summit of Exitius’ Peak. No more. The clash of divine power resounds across the planet. Those on Exitium who could hear were deafened, those who saw the battle were blinded – and the Peak was shattered, utterly. As the two cataclysms met, their raw power vapourised both the dragon avatar and the behemoth, erased from the world in the blink of an eye. For miles around, the land was blasted to chaotic shreds, a wave of fire consuming everything close and the laws of magic and reality unravelling permanently in the area. Mortals will in time know the mountain as the Shatter Peak, and for all time the remnants of the mountain will float, burning and seared with wild magic. It is as if a mountain were exploded into its base rocks and then simply stopped mid explosion. The fragments of stone simply hang there rolling, roiling, burning. And the screams of the avatars in their final moments flow through the region as if it were wind. The Shatter Peak region will be unpassable for all time, a monument to destruction and madness and the end of all things should the godlings ever resort to such upon violence again. The Eternal Duel has ended, but at what cost? Though never exactly an inviting place, millenia of titanic warfare have left the continent of Exitium scarred and decimated. Little grows there, and its lifeforms are few, and desperate. Though they are blasted to bits and their psychic screams forever echoing through the shell of the eternally exploding mountain, the Avatars are not eternally gone. Both Exitius and Ixthalizzum can still feel them, somehow... with the application of divine power, it would be possible to resurrect their avatars. Would they send them to war against each other, or put them to other tasks? Where some destroy, others create. Vyrnen, progenitor of the Nyren, watches his creations with pride yet moves on to newer projects. Taking the forms of the bird and melding them with that similar to the Nyren, Vyrnen creates the first of the younger races – the Ravaniin. These flightless, bipedal birdmen quickly form into tribes amid the cold and unforgiving north – with many building their homes in woodland tree canopies, or scaling the sides of cliffs for protection... and easy access to the eggs and meat of less intelligent birds. Ravaniin communities quickly become focussed on gathering meat for hungry newborns, but those t00 weak to fend for themselves are cast out, as a chick cast from the nest to die. The Ravaniin race are new and young, far far less advanced culturally or technologically than the Nyren tribes who have built villages for themselves and spread across the world – but they show great potential, as the first of a new wave of sentients. Those already present on the world continue their journey through the generations. The Nyren in particular seem of great interest to the awakened gods. The Nyren of the River, those dwelling near the Soul Coast of Kaha-Nu-Buhu are greeted by a great and terrible sight one day, for the avatar Vu’u has come to guide them. Terrifying in his smokey red visage, the warden lion of the Ruby lady eases the concerns of the primitive tribesfolk through his divine presence and begins to instruct them. Speaking in a tongue understood by them, he tells the Nyren of Tuhinga O Mua, the Afterlife, providing the revelation that this existence is not the end. All beings with souls, including their departed ancestors have passed into the rolling fields of Kaha, and can be called upon for aid if needed. This triggers somewhat of a religious genesis in the Nyren of the River. Though still extremely primitive, the Word of Vu’u spreads far and wide throughout their region, as does the consecration of the dead, encouraged by the Great Lion. In the space of a few years, the Nyren of the River have elaborate burial rites and are as much concerned with the life hereafter than they are of living their lives in the here and now. At personal shrines with a lion figurehead, the Nyren of the River commune with their ancestors. Some recieve replies, and others feel invigorated by streams of power sent to them by their departed kin. Time will tell how this newborn religion will develop, but already the simple instructions of Kaha’s avatar have totally altered the world view of this group of sentients. Skatal’s actions toward the Nyren are far less benign than those of his sister. Incensed by the presence of Nyren on “his” continent, vast plagues and poxes harrow the communities there. Many die, but many still survive in pain and in mourning, and watch with horror as Skatalkin come in the night to gnaw at the bodies of their loved ones. They wonder aloud, “Who have we displeased that this wrath is brought upon us?”. They receive no answer. For now. Yngbald watched with pride as the shamans of the Nyren of the Forest probed and deciphered the runes of the Adamantine Tree, and placed within it another mystery for those worthy. The Eye of Yngbald is an artefact of great power, allowing its user to see any point in creation and understand what they see instinctively, even into the minds of others. But with such power comes a cost. Not everything is meant to be seen by mortal eyes. No Nyren have yet breached the inner chamber of the tree, their shamans working methodically through the outer chambers. They have become quite adept at magic, using it to accomplish great acts but also horrible incidents. They will not be prepared for the knowledge of the divine, if they find the Eye and stare too deeply at places not for their ken. The Worms of the desert continue on as they always have, feeding, growing, and dreaming. But their creator is not so sedentary. At his Temple in the Underpaths a new avatar is brought into being. Far less corporeal than those who came before, Thokub-Nir comes into being, eager to do his master’s bidding. Once again, Lavrat-es rests, silent. Is she the next to recede from Creation like her brothers Bruk and Do-rah? MAP: Still a bit outdated, but I’ve added major sentient populations to the map. Because small Nyren tribes are all over the place I’ve only included the largest/most prominent groups. Red hex on Exitium marks the place that’s been nuked. AP ROLLS: Wol-Kot – 6+2 Lavrat-es – 8 Vyrnen – 7+2 Skatal – 9+1 Yngbald – 12+3 Ixthalizzum – 9+2 Exitius – 4+2 Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 5+3 – Bruk – ARTIFACTED Do-rah – ARTIFACTED

Asgard Republic Kolranate of the Redon Imperium 2160 Leader - Chancellor Helena Askelaand Population - 1,129,266 Humans 353 Kalronians 16,885 Redons 71 Human-Redons (1,000 Redon Garrison)  --- Total - 1,146,575 --------- DETAILS: STORY: Redons, maoists and bears, oh my! SPACE FORCES: MILITARY REDACTED --- GROUND FORCES: 15,000 x Regular Infantry 4000 x Heavy Infantry 8250 x Tithonus Combat Droid 3000 x Hunter Bot Mk.1 50 x Tank Bot Mk.1 --------- ACTIONS - AP Pool: 56 Base: 4 Naval Upkeep: -4 Colonised Sectors: +2 Population: +6 Resources: +12 Trade: +4 Industry: +12 Business: +12 Agriculture: +8 [Totals include AP spent this turn and previously] 20AP – Two battleships are put into production in the newly upgraded shipyards above Asgard. 1AP – A tiny little corvette is produced concurently to the enormous battleships. 10AP – A revival of the Asgard Refugee Resettlement program. In conjunction with the work of the Asgard Diplomatic Corps, news is spread far and wide of Asgard’s worlds being a safe haven in the south from the chaos consuming the once stable northern nations. Hopefully this will attract more immigration to fill up the somewhat empty planets of the Republic, with land grants given to pre-existing communities provided they comply with federal, planetary and state laws. Of course, the priority is humanitarian assistance to those fleeing war, but Intelligence officials also screen any incoming migrants for military experience that could be used in the upcoming conflicts. Surely some of them would want a little revenge on the invaders, and experienced soldiers and spacers would be welcome replacements for battle casualties. 25AP – Business Investments.

THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming Turn 6 And so it came, the End of the Beginning. In these final days of the First Age were finishing touches made to initial creations, and plans put in place for the future. Skatal and Lavrat-es make understated impacts upon this last act of the First Age. Lavrat-es simply conserves her power, retreating into the World Throne. Skatal introduces a new insidious element to the world in a final act – the concept of disease. So it was that the first sentients came into being, from the will of the Great Dreamer – with a little help from the Mad God. Brought forth from nothing, the create Sand Worms were created. Running the gamut of sizes and experiences throughout their lives, these creatures will be best known to their contemporaries as truly titanic worm-like beings, moving through the sands of their home continent like a fish through water, or like the greater elementals that roam the rest of the World-Sphere. Though many may think it barren, the desert sands have become a thriving homogenous ecosystem of microscopic larvae, sedentary spawning towers and most recognisably the vast, pseudo-cannibalistic, sapient third-stage of their life cycle. Far do they roam, and further still do their minds wander. The Sand Worms are the first beings, aside from the Gods themselves, to think of the “Self” and the “Other”, and their thoughts can be transmitted to each other – ideas and intents shared and discussed. Time will tell how these titans will develop. The Worms are not alone in the vaunted title of “Ancient Race”, for the favoured beasts of Vyrnen have been blessed with similar gifts. Delivered by their patron to homes across the globe are the newly christened Nyren. Where once was instinct is now intelligence and self-recognition. Packs become tribes, and alphas become chieftains. No longer simple animals, the Nyrnen stand tall on digitigrade legs, with bark like skin, long muscular tails and long horse-like faces. Flung from their ancient home by their creator, the Nyren tribes can no longer rely on the plentiful hunting and foraging grounds of the utopian Isle of Vyrnen. Life is tough, and they must use every faculty now afforded to them in order to survive. Some cannot adapt to this and are quickly claimed by the cruelty of nature. Most adapt with gusto. Their strong claws have long made easy weapons and tools, but now they find themselves fashioning purpose built constructions for these tasks. Inhabiting pockets across the world, the Nyrnen adopt fortified shelters and endeavour to protect themselves from wild beasts and elements. Intelligence has given them great insight – observing the flames created by the passage of an elemental, the cleverest amongst them adopt this strange force and bring it back to their tribes. Within days, most Nyrnen tribes have learned the use of fire. No longer are the Nyren covered on a sceptred isle, though they remember this land fondly pass it down in myth. This is just the start of their journey. They now see the world with new eyes, with wonder and ambition. As well as new races are the first truly active Avatars created. After a parable worthy of myth is the mighty lion Vu’u ascended into an instrument of Ruby Lady, Kaha-Nu-Buhu. For now Vu’u dwells in Kaha’s temple on the west coast of its largest continent, acting as its custodian and guardian. The Avatars of Exitius and Ixthalizzum are another matter entirely. Finally making his draconic form manifest as a separate avatar, Exitius sends the mighty engine of destruction screaming at the creation of Ixthalizzum, a monstrous beast adapted from his behemoths and swolen with the power of his chaotic magic orb in the deeps. The two hurtled into each other and clashed at the shores of Exitium. Back and forth they fight in cataclysmic impact of power and destruction, dragon grappling behemoth, behemoth buffetting dragon with chaotic energy. For now, things are evenly matched, but the effect is devestating. With the peak of Exitius’ mountain as the battleground, the continent is laid waste. Venandi yelp in fear at the thunder-crash of their impacts, and even the mighty dragons cower at the awesome duel. As this age draws to a close, neither titanic avatar has gained the upper hand... and as manifestations of divine will, they are inexhaustible. Their war appears eternal. For one god, however, comes punishment. For abusing the powers of the world, and extending himself too far and too brazenly in the use of such little divine power to create such a far reaching act as to influence another vast swathe of sea in his alignment experiment, arcane Yngbald has earned THE WRATH OF AO. And lo, for the skies above his seas darken and his ordered act becomes chaotic destruction. His neutral realm is not created at all... but his dormant temple of poisonous barriers is. And to much greater effect than intended. Behold, godlings, as the temple reduces the ENTIRE alignment effected region a poisoned wasteland. Both the Good and Evil seas are now graveyards for the fish beasts that lived there, as all of them succumb to the choking waters intended only for their border region. The alignments still stand... but DEATH knows neither good nor evil. It simply IS. And that is all that exists in those seas, for now. Choking, poisonous death, the beings that died there being oblitered – body and soul, for their souls are poisoned and corrupted beyond any measure that would allow them entry into Tuhinga O Mua. Instead these spirits linger, chaotic and vile, corporeal yet still dead. A great Ghost Reef. For aeons will the vaguely animated bones of those enigmatic experimental species wash upon the shores of the greater continent, a testament to the failure, hubris and disregard that Yngbald is shown. True to Yngbald’s vision, there is neutrality. The neutrality of the grave. AND LO, for what was prophesised by mighty Ao comes to pass. A great calm comes over all the gods, as they are silently recalled to the Void. They look upon their creations and see them fade from view. The time has come for the gods to pass from the world into obscurity and inaction. A state not unlike their pre-birth overtakes them as they are left small and unthinking, simply paused in a second of time. And then, there is existence once more. The Gods have passed through stasis, through the great nothing and emerged again. Let us see how their World-Sphere has fared in their absence. THE SECOND AGE BEGINS By mortal reckonning, 5000 years have passed without the input of the divines. The fundaments of the world have stayed true. For the most part, all is as it was left. The World-Sphere sits, unturning, orbited by the Sun and the many moons. Plants and beasts have flourished, as they always had. The great landmarks and geographies remain as intended, immutable and still. But it is in their most enigmatic creations that change has occured. In the deserts, the Sand Worms have dwelled now for generations. Though long lived, even the mightiest of these great beasts succumb to time, their collosal dead hulks decaying as intended by Skatal, eroded by the winds and storms, and even by the tiny maws of larvae, but for the most part remain grim monuments within the desert. The giant corpses of their ancestors become focal points for the Sand Worms, gathering points in the vast sea of sand so that individuals of the Third Stage may meet. Their society cannot perhaps be described as “grouped” or “tribal”, as these beings must travel vast distances across the dunes regularly and solitarily in order to feed themselves on their microscopic younglings, but once they are fed and sated (a condition that can last for months) many find it comforting to gather together and commune. Indeed, age and wisdom have become valued among Worm “society”, as the newborn Third Stages are drawn to the vibrations and psionic calls of their elders after newly emerging from their rooted forms. Some gathering points, known to them as “Casts”, have been used for so long that multiple Ancient Ones have died there and have accrued as part of the monumental scenery. The Worms muse on life and reality, and the confines of their world. Some Worms travel between multiple gathering points, sharing knowledge and experiences – allowing the entire population of sentient Third Stages at least some form of interconnectedness with the species as a whole. A great deal of exploration has taken place, resulting in both knowledge and confusion. The Worms have a solid understanding of sand and rock, and the difference between the two – for many a Worm has bumped its head-maw attempting to “swim” through a rock. Less understood is water. Largely blind and relying on vibration and psionic communication for navigation, many a Worm has died accidentally swimming into the ocean and drowning in panic upon not realising that it is water. Indeed some Worm Casts are set upon along the coasts to both study, and fear, the waters. Also relevant to the Worms is the sharing and revelation of dreams. Truly, these creatures are children of Wol-Kot, for they have developed an intense fascination with the dreaming dimension. Their telepathy allows them to truly share entire dreams with each other. Some elders have even used the dreaming dimension for exploration, finding that they do not die if swimming through water while within the realms of sleep – but even they are quite disturbed by its difference from the sands they are used to, and have not yet astral-projected far enough to discover other continents. Some dreaming Worms have even glimpsed Soth-Kogarth and the echo of the sleeping god. This intrigues them greatly. Indeed, intrepid worms have even burst through the lowest levels of the sand into opening of the Underpath... but only a fraction survive the experience of the deep, sandless world, and the predatory horrors there. Those that return are both fearful and curious however, and a few meetings of nearby Worm Casts have considered the possibility of exploring these tunnels en masse... simply slamming through the beasts and delving deep, consuming the Underpath horrors as sustenance instead of the usual larvae. The weird world of Worm humour rears its head hear, as some joke about how anything other than their own children as a meal would taste odd. Another major element of Worm spirituality and philosophy is something quite familiar to the gods – the Idol of Bruk. Having slammed into the world on the desert continent now home to the Sand Worms, the titanic minds are quite enamoured with it. Long have they known of the danger of roving elementals, and their unintentional propensity for shredding Worms they come in contact with, and curious Worms tracking their movements (or simply trawling the deserts for a meal of larvae) have encountered the crater that is home to the Idol. It is quite clearly “small” by Third Stage Worm standards, but indeed an oddity, bristling with a power that tugs at their very being but cannot quite comprehend. A Worm Cast has established itself near the Crater of Bruk, and has become somewhat reverent of the smiley pebble. Indeed, it is not uncommon for a worm to rub its segmented body against the stony, monumental corpse of an Ancient One in an attempt to replicate the sacred phrase: “Bruk.” While the Worms propagate in the desert, the rest of the World-Sphere has become home to the hardy Nyren. Though not ever-present across the surface, Nyrnen tribes are present in areas an all continents, except the desert continent. That poor group died quickly from lack of food and water, their corpses quickly covered by shifting sands and devoured by hungry Worm larvae – their Skeletons becoming curiousities for wandering Worms. Elsewhere, the Nyren have thrived. Most commonly, they have established themselves on hilltops and crags in dank river valleys, forming into close nit chiefdoms relying on foraging and the hunt for food. Some have begun to keep herd beasts and selectively breed edible plants, but they are the minority. Caves and natural shelters remain key dwellings, but equally common are purposebuilt structures out of the most easily available material. Over generations, the Nyren have developed a deep story telling culture, sharing tales both real and imagined. The most common shared myth is that of the Old Home, a beautiful island where their people were born, before being sent out into the world – as a child must one day leave womb of its mother. They remember the Old Home with reverence, and hope one day to find it again. Other tales have more religious elements. Most common are tales of the unpredictable days and nights of the moons foretelling important events, and animals being deities. Most commonly revered are the greater elementals, leaving unintended trails of destruction as they wander across and through the landscape to unclear destinations, and their lesser elemental cousins. Many a Nyren has killed or maimed themselves attempting to “kill” or communicate with these unintelligent and volatile agglomerations of stone, fire, and magic, and a greater elemental demolishing a village by walking through it has inspired many small cults. Some religious traditions, however, may prove lasting. A tribe of Nyren have settled in the river valley near Kaha-Nu-Buhu’s Soul Reef. Fisherfolk are known to catch the soul-wielding sealife for food, and feel strangely invigorated or wistful upon consuming them. Some brave scouts have even ventured close to Kaha’s Temple, but fled at the sight of the petrified monkey and the vastly more terrifying fiery lion Vu’u. For now, the Nyren of the Soul Reef are unsure, even fearful of Kaha’s creations. But that may change. Another Nyrnen tribe have settled in the Forest of Yngbald, near the Great Adamantine tree, which they have come to regard as a divinity in and of itself. The properties of the forest have inculcated a deep understanding of herbal medicine among this tribe, and some of the more experienced shamans are even beginning to ponder the runes on the sacred tree. In the far southern forests, a similar tale unfolds, with these Nyren dwelling in the realm that once belonged to Do-rah – they fear the glade of Failed Mortals as cursed, as do they fear the influence of the Herdstone that was once the Wild God. Only the shamans venture near there, to snare the docile animals, and so risk their minds to the wildness that buzzes in the minds of those who approach the statue. Some, however, are inspired to acts of greatness. These inspired shamans lead their tribe in acts of brilliance that surpass the others, damming rivers to catch fish and cultivating the first ever farms. One thing has remained constant in the last millenia. The Great Duel. For five thousand years the avatars of Exitius and Ixthalizzum have fought a cataclysmic single combat atop the peak of Exitium, the stalemate to end all stalemates. Equally imbued with the power of equal gods, these titanic beings have fulfilled the last commands of their masters and desired nothing but the total annihilation of their opponent. The effect has been immense, with the continent of Exitium – already considered harsh – reduced to a constant battlefield of titans. The Venandi and dragons live in constant fear of the clashing beasts, their packs migrating away when possible (for the two combatants can spend decades slugging it out in a single valley), but many a wolf-beast or reptile has been crushed heedlessly underfoot. So disturbed are the bestial dragons that the vast majority of their population have migrated away from Exitium, flying over the seas to new homes. Small colonies of dragons live in the great mountain chains of all continents, refugees of the apocalyptic battle. The avatars neither notice nor care. Only their masters’ wills matter. And their will is battle. It is highly likely that without intervention this duel will continue till the end of time. The age of mortals is truly upon us. But will these ancients be the only denizens of the world? The laws of Ao shift once more, and it is all too possible that more sentient races will dwell upon the World-Sphere. MAP: OUTDATED MAP BUT WE’LL GO WITH IT. Nyren tribes are present on all continents, Worms only on the desert. Will be more accurate on racial distribution in later turns. AP ROLLS: Wol-Kot – 10+1 Lavrat-es – 6 Vyrnen – 12+1 Skatal – 4 Yngbald – 6+3 Ixthalizzum – 5+1 Exitius – 7+1 Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 4+3 – Bruk – ARTIFACTED Do-rah – ARTIFACTED

THE FIRST AGE: PART 2 – The Foundations Turn 5 It is an era of celestial apathy, it seems. The majority of the gods are content to dwell amongst their creations, or within their realms and palaces. Ixthalizzum and Exitius await their duel, the former feasting on the creations of the equally complacent Skatal, and the latter’s draconic spectral form curled atop his summit. Vyrnen muses on his favoured beasts. Lavrat-es, self-declared Axis of Heaven, sits upon her self-made throne. Is this to be the shape of things to come? Or are these gods merely lying in wait, conserving their power for greater things? Waiting, hungrily, for the tides of power from mighty Ao to flow once more... Not all is still for the great powers of the world, however. Yngbald, lord of mystery and revelation, iterates on his favoured experiments. In the heart of the Great Forest, a vast tree of adamantine strength sprouts and towers up above its brethren. Emblazoned with myriad forms of his runic script, Yngbald’s tree acts as textbook of sorts for the decipherment of the arcane language, with each successive breakthrough in understanding permitting further access into the Adamantine Tree and perhaps, with time and effort the very secrets of creation itself for those mortals intelligent and intrepid enough to gain access. Additionally, Yngbald adds a counterbalance to the “evil” sea he had created before, imbuing a neighbouring region with energy that would encourage “good”. Though there is nothing intelligent enough in those depths to take advantage of the urge to build inculcated by Yngbald, the creatures there evolve into much more ordered behaviour. Floor-dwelling arthropods dig out elaborate dens to live in, and vast symbiotic ecosystems form into coral reefs. There is violence, as there is in any habitat, but not to the extent of the bloody and predatory waters that neighbour this region. Occasionally creatures from one side will venture into the other, with large mellow jellies being devoured by ravenous swarms as they venture too far east, and hunting predator fish finding no prey as the beings of the western deeps band together to repel the invaders. Already a vast receptical of power, and one of the first “buildings” on the World-Sphere, the dreaming god Wol-Kot imbues his temple in the far far depths of the Underpaths with even greater significance. Knowledge great and terrible is imbued into the very stones, and – perhaps unintentionally – the Dreamer’s Temple takes on something of a life of its own. It begins to have its own presence in Soth-Kogarth and the lesser dream realms, placing a subtle call to the deep into the minds of those it may consider worthy of its knowledge. Or perhaps that malevolent place is merely drawing down playthings for its own amusement, and that of its master, for only those gifted with a divine level of fortitude can look upon the unfettered mind of a god and remain sane. But with no mortals yet in the world, the temple’s only visitors are the myriad bestial horrors that grace Wol-Kot’s world-spanning tunnels. Kaha-Nu-Buhu also acts this turn, further shaping her coastal reef to conform with her soul and death related designs. Wrought forth from the deeps on a rocky peninsula is a vast temple, looking as is if worked by the elements themselves into a flowing, natural shape. In the heart of this shrine lies a great ruby crystal, as if hewn from Vula-Murama itself. As designed, the crystal is capable of returning those recently deceased to life if their soul resides in Tuhinga O Mua and Kaha herself wishes it to be so. The cost, however, is high, for the returned will never again be permitted within the elysian lands of the Guiding Light. Who but Ao can say what other effects this may have as well... The Void is again party to an immense implosion of divine energy as the god Do-rah, absent for many aeons now, faces a fate similar to stoic Bruk. The god of civilisation and the wilds is made physical and falls to the World-Sphere far more gently than his sibling, landing at the centre of would have been Do-rah’s realm. This new divine artifact is known as the HERDSTONE, and it takes the shape of a large standing stone, the upper hald is shaped as if it were a horned humanoid with its palms crossed across its chest. This statue encourages the life around it, drawing beasts and increasing the spread of plantlife – whilst also imparting great insights and encouraging feats of aspirational greatness in those intelligent enough. But this comes at a cost, for those who are effected by the herdstone’s inspiration will inevitably succumb to a wild madness, reducing them to animalistic behaviour and instincts, preferring the wilderness to any civilisation they may be part of. Once again, the will of Ao is made known. This age is drawing to a close. The time to shape the world so fundamentally, so geologically, is passing. But one more turn remains before the gods must sleep – when they awaken who can tell how the World-Sphere will have changed, or the nature of their own power. Now is the time to finish plans, or prepare daring new ones. MAP UPDATE: Credit to Brandon for this. Not 100% up to date, but works for our purposes. Big symbol in the evil sea marks it as evil, according to brandon. He didn’t have time to add a good symbol. AP ROLLS: Wol-Kot – 8AP Lavrat-es – 7AP Vyrnen – 10AP Skatal – 7AP Yngbald – 10AP +2 Ixthalizzum – 7AP Exitius – 4AP Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 6AP+2 – Bruk – ARTIFACTED Do-rah – ARTIFACTED

THE FIRST AGE: PART 2 – The Foundations Turn 4 The gods adapt with varying degrees of success to the new constraints imposed on them by Ao. No longer capable of vast edicts of change, they are now bound to an ebbing and flowing tide of power and quantified action. Perhaps Ao wishes for a degree of stability in creation, so that the fundamentals of reality are not reshaped on a whim by curious or feuding godlings? Nevertheless, expressions of divine power now come with a cost and conservation of power may now be necessary for deeply powerful acts. The first steps into the new game of creation are tentative and probing from all players. Some focus on adding features to the world, while others proliferate their own creations – or retaliate against perceived encroachments on territory. Of course, territory has no true meaning for a god. The world belongs to all, and only the core fundamentals of a peer’s acts are immune to destruction. Satisfied with the development of the simian pack-dwellers on his Isle, Vyrnen spreads life to the pristine ruby moon of Vula-Murama, creation of Kaha-nu-Buhu. Whereas before the great sphere of red crystal had only been host to a vast soul-sucking lake of divine tears, a breathable atmosphere now enshrouds it, and the landscape is reshaped in the image of the body it orbits, with ruby continents forming as the soul-ichor lake is enlarged into a series of seas and oceans. For the first time, life occurs on a celestial body aside from the World-Sphere. These beings are unlike their counterparts on the planet below, as they are comprised entirely of the red crystal of the moon’s surface. As per Vyrnen’s design, great herds of crystalvores scour the shining geography for the most nourishing of lithic formations to incorporate into their own bodies via a bizarre digestive process – excreting slag and sand from crystal impurities as faeces. An entire ecosystem develops, with loping predators built like battering rams charging into the sides of these beasts to chatter them apart, feeding upon the rich half-digested crystal essence within. Other predators use deafening shrieks to sonically shatter off the outer crystals of their prey, not killing them, but leaving behind easily digestible fragments. Equally deadly to the crystalvores are bizarre avian beings, taking advantage of the low gravity of Vula-Murama to “fly” with suborbital hops. These “birds” take advantage of atmospheric friction on their outer crystals and channel it into their spike like fore-limbs. Upon impact with prey, the spikes slam deep into their bodies and the release the friction energy – dramatically shattering the poor crystalvore with seismic power! Of note to the creator the Ruby Moon would be the odd resonance these crystal creatures have with the souls that are funneled into the watery gateway to Tuhinga-O-Mua. Some species seem to consume souls before they fully transition into the afterlife, greatly increasing their own vitality and causing them to adopt characteristics of the consumed soul in a bizarre crystaline mimicry. But Kaha-nu-Buhu is too engaged in her new project to notice the designs of the life-bringer on her Ruby. Using the souls dwelling in her realm for added effect, the lady of the dead creates an underwater ecosystem based on the consumption and transfer of soul-ichor. The coral expanse becomes far more rich and diverse than any other underwater realm. Who knows what effect this concentration of mortal souls in a physical landscape will have in the future, however. Also expanding his influence is the devious Skatal! Gifted with immense power by the roll of the divine dice, the lord of decay spreads his irrepressible creations to new continents. Magically brought into being, new colonies of carrier mushrooms dig eagerly into the marble rock and soil of the world, starving out the local flora and becoming the dominant feature of the regions in which they were created. They do not spread much further however. It seems in this new age of divine constraints, Skatal will have to expend power to shape additional regions into shroomy glades. Likewise, swarms of Skatalkin scatter off into the hidden places to breed and burrow as soon as they are created. In some environs they quickly outcompete the native ecosystem established in the Firmament days by Vyrnen and become apex predators, but in many more they simply join the list of prey for more vicious creatures. Nevertheless, the Skatalkin abide – due to their constant breeding, these vermin cannot be killed off entirely by local lifeforms. To do so would require a more divine touch, or the determined efforts of mortals to come. Not all gods appreciate this spread of invasive creatures, however. Arrogant and supreme Lavrat-es views the spawning of a carrier colony on the border to her dimension shifting realm, and swiftly diverts the courses of numerous rivers to flood the entire region! A vast lake now exists, submerging the newborn carriers beneath the waters. The carriers are not dead, however. As tenacious as their master desired, they cling to life, dormant beneath the new waves. Lavrat-es has not killed off the offending shrooms, but they have been rendered harmless and neutered for the forseeable future. Out of sight, out of mind! Additionally, the Axis of the World, turns her attention to the largest caves into the Underpaths on near her domain. Truly, the Underpaths are too ubiquitous to totally remove from a continent, but by her divine magnificence the majority are closed off via a shifting of the marble of the world. Of course... there is nothing stopping a fellow divine, or particularly persistant mortal effort, from carving out new ways into the great honeycomb of tunnels beneath the surface-world. The arcane experimenter Yngbald tries the more obscure of the newly defined acts. Choosing a swathe of sea to the south of his created alchemical forest he channels his malevolent feelings into changing the very character of the environment toward the concept of “evil”. The effect is immediately apparent. Although the seas and oceans of the World-Sphere are already turbulent thanks to the addition of so many orbiting moons, this section of water becomes exceptionally prone to chop and vicious lightning storms. The Vyrnen-made lifeforms in its deeps also become crueller and more vicious. Predatory fish skulk the deeps, and tet-a-tet violence occurs between different species. Evem the corals and plantlife adopt harsher behaviours, with clouds of poison sprayed at passing fauna, and creeping roots dragging the corpses of victims into digestion chambers. Far more confrontational were the actions of the enigmatic Ixthalizzum. Taking offense simply to the fact that Exitius had created a mountain too tall to doubt, the Maybe God challenged the chained lord of destruction and chaos to a duel, defining strict terms for the bout... that were promptly exploited by Exitius. Ixthalizzum had assumed the “weapon” specified for the bought would be an avatar of sorts, that would take many years to produce. Instead, Exitius willed an extension of his own being into the shape of a vast dragon for the bought! However, this being has strict limits – it is, in essence, a divine illusion. By not using divine power in the Dragon That Is Exitius’ creation, this terrifying spectre has no physical effect on the World-Sphere – it cannot even be seen by physical beings, only gods. Its effectiveness as a pugilistic tool against other deities is even doubtful – who knows if the duel ITSELF is even permitted by the Overgod? Such a direct confrontation between gods, without proxies by Exitius, may incur wrath for both participants.The Dragon was, apparently, enough to frighten Ixthalizzum however. Either by misinterpretation, or perhaps simply UNCERTAINTY, the changing god “schlorped” himself away from Exitius. Is this the end of the challenge? Or will the two feuding deities continue their conflict? To be obtuse, fickle Ixthalizzum creates a forest of pink crystals near his chasm-crag on the largest continent. Unlike the regular and orderly landscape of ruby on the Vula-Murama moon, however, these crystals are all in bizarre and hard to categorise shapes. Were the creatures that existed with linguistic ability or aesthetic concerns, such a bizarre crystal expanse may be termed “garrish”, “vulgar”, or “decidedly unneeded”. Perfectly in line with Ixthalizzum’s nature... or is it?! Far less dynamic are the actions of Wol-Kot. The great dreamer conserves his power within his deep sanctuary, shaping his realm into different forms at mental whim while not expending any power on concrete actions that would cause wider effect in the physical world. While a tad boring to the observation of the other gods, this does allow Wol-Kot a considerable reserve of power when next the gods can act. Dor-ah does not even make a single visit to the World-Sphere in this turn. Perhaps he is conserving his power? Perhaps a great change is underway, a change foreshadowed by the new condition of Bruk. In a vast departure from previous actions, by his own will and the consent of Ao, the rocky and stoic Bruk’s essence suddenly implodes into a single point. All his power and potential are distilled into a physical artifact. An artifact that is not at all unfamiliar to his fellow divines. Bruk is transformed into a bizarrely smug rock. On occasion it cries slowly or shoots at massive speeds searing hot carcerium magma from its “eyes”. The “Idol of Bruk” as it shall come to be known, as the distillation of an almost omnipotent being, carries IMMENSE divine energy and has an extremely influential effect on beasts and mortals in its presence. It impacts the world at high speed, flung into the World-Sphere from the Void. Instantly, Bruk’s crater attracts the presence of elementals. Perhaps in time it shall become an icon of religious veneration? For now it is a smiling pebble at the bottom of a crater, tended to by living clusters of stone and the occasional spewed pile of extremely corrosive lava and very occasionally the matter of fact proclamation of: “Bruk.” And with those events, the next turn begins. New power flows into the gods. For some, they find this bolsters the reserves they have hoarded. Others are rewarded for their activity by a small but notable boost to the random quantity of strength they are bestowed. Perhaps soon even more fundamental creations are to come. Something becomes certain in the minds of the gods, however, a fact imposed on them by Ao. SOON THIS AGE SHALL END. TWICE MORE WILL YOU BE ABLE TO ACT, BEFORE I DEMAND THAT YOU REST. With that, the rush of power arrives, like the infusion of narcotics into the blood, or water upon the lips of a parched beast... New AP. KEEP TRACK OF YOUR OWN TOTALS. +1 for those who finish at 5AP or Under. AP ADDED: Wol-Kot – 10AP Lavrat-es - 7AP + 1 Vyrnen - 5AP Skatal - 4AP + 1 Yngbald - 12AP + 1 Ixthalizzum - 3AP + 1 Exitius - 3AP Kaha-nu-buhu - 9AP + 1 Do-rah - 9AP - Bruk - ARTIFACTED MAP COMING SOON!

THE FIRST AGE: PART 2 – The Foundations Turn 3 And so it was that more came into being that was in the first days. Were there mortals to count the years, through rotations of the sun or otherwise, they would note centuries passing between each act and turn of acts. Such was the pace of time in the First Age. Things moved at a geological pace, one unconcerned with the fleeting lives of lifeforms and concerned instead with the settling and peace of the World-Sphere. Of creations, there were many. After the founding years of the firmament came a renewed focus on life from the incumbent divines. From a sweeping act of Vyrnen came the flutterings of lifeforms of all shapes and sizes across the continents and oceans of the World-Sphere. There were mammalian scurriers and reptilian striders, loping hunters and wary pack-beasts. Before these creatures the land was changed and was varied by the will of great Vyrnen, for the climate and terrain of the world became muddled from that previous to it. Whereas before all was either marble, water or the spare patches of forest, mineral and mushroom spread by the others, now a vast panoply of biomes existed – with animals to accompany them. And so came grasslands, marshes, tundra and deserts; arctic and highlands and woodlands and wastelands. All was new and virgin under the sun, the moons and the great ruby. So to were the lands far from the light effected by the Gods, for Wol-Kot decreed that the Underpaths be made full and teeming – hardy fungi and terrifying creatures of the deep dark now dwell there, and ever deeper are the ensnaring dreamers who would pray on the minds and flesh of those who shall seek the heart of Wol-Kot’s majesty. The lord of Chaos and Destruction, Exitius has also tried his hand at shaping the living forms of this world, for the harsh and rugged land of Exitium has brought forth two races of great beasts. Firstborn are the dragons, great flying reptiles who are hard of skin and keen of claw – unaging creatures who stalk the skies and canyons of the harsh continent. Their neighbours are the feral Venandi, bipedal canine hunters who band together in packs for protection and efficiency. Together they face the harsh elements of Exitium and hunt down the hardy prey beasts delivered to them by the far-reaching edict of Vyrnen. Neither race thinks deeply, but the need to survive and thrive exists keenly. So too has the changing god, lord and lady of the unknown, the unlikely master, the doubting one, Ixthalizzum tried his or her or its hand at creating denizens for this dreadfully certain world. First are the behemoths, great monstrosities of the abyssal depths – these beasts are maddeningly ugly hermaphrodites whose rotting entrails spawn fresh young into the depths, following their frequent cannibalist combats! Their lesser Ixkin plumb the depths of the Underpaths for new places to inhabit and consume. Finally come the festering children of Skatal, a swarm of mamallian flesh and wormy tails and teeth who hurry off into the hidden places of the Great Burrow’s continent to spread and multiply. They are not intelligent, and prone to hideous bouts of sickness, but their sheer numbers from each birth keeps them alive. They are driven by a singular desire to propagate their kin across the world, though for now they are contained to the Burrow’s continent, hiding within burrows gnawed from the foul flesh of the Carrier-shroom forests. Some intrepid packs scurry into the Underpaths via the Burrow, where they are soon consumed by the dizzying array of predatory horrors.... but some survive to found new breeding nests and spread anew. There is no knowledge of purpose, no intelligence, no malice – survival and breeding is all. Eat. Birth. Spread. Die. Rot. That is the lot of the verminous Skatalkin. Aside from Life, many Gods partake in adding more fundamental elements to the World-Sphere. Abhoring the horrific universality of the addition of magic to the world, the possible diety Ixthalizzum has introduced the concept of uncertainty to the ever-present field of magic via the introduction of the Orb of Chaos. This crystal bound sphere of dangerously perverted magic radiates uncertainty out into the world, making all magical acts, everywhere, more likely to fail in random and potentially catastrophic ways. As a byproduct of its creation, Ixthalizzum has also flooded a large central section of the Underpath – and started a small beast war between his habitually violent Ixkin monsters and the malevolent denizens of Wol-Kot’s passages. Oops? The addition of new elements to the world’s panoply is taken quite literally by the arcane master Yngbald, who – clearly going by the more mundane example of Bruk – permeates the world with deposits of special materials. Adamantine spikes spring forth in the deeps, and some into the outside world – this dark, prismatically reflective metal cannot be effected by anything save a combination of magic and heat, and shall surely prove to be the strongest material in existence. Marydion comes next, beautifully glowing emerald crystals that serve as uncommon reservoirs of magical power, capable of storing magical power and enhancing the abilities of those around it – albeit it somewhat volatile. The last element is Carcerium, a living liquid flame of exceeding potency. Akin to the lava created by the actions of Bruk, Carcerium pools are vastly more deadly and useful. Yngbald’s final act is to add a counterbalance to the Grand Contrarian Ixthalizzum’s Orb of Chaos – accepting the danger and randomness now inherent to the use of magic, Yngbald devises the Runic Script, by which the intent of a spell is made clearer. This mechanism exists now... but how will any future mortals be aware of its existence? Perhaps Yngbald should prepare instructors for future students... More fundamental changes come from the great egos of the world. The ruby lady, Kaha-Na-Buhu is created the concept of the soul and the afterlife. Via blood rain from the great ruby moon, all living things are infused with Soul Ichor. All beings with Soul Ichor are inevitably drawn spiritually, upon biological death, to Tuhinga O Mua – Kaha’s idyllic land of the dead. Whether they want to or not. The other ego, Lavrat-es, is even more self-involved – for her creation revolves entirely around her own personal domain, the Looking Glass. Carving out a warped section of the World-Sphere for herself, Lavrat-es creates a personal realm guarded by titanic monstrosities and centred on a glorified gatekeeper for her palace. Time will tell whether pilgrims run this gauntlet willingly or simply enter this bizarre realm accidentally. The two more foul gods of the world, Exitius and Skatal, impart their own laws onto creation – perversions of things that have come before. Exitius’ studies of Yngbald’s magic yield fruit, and the possibilities of the magic of death, the magic of the elemental forces and blood magic are born. Blood magic is especially potent – whilst necromancy deals with souless carcasses, blood magic manipulates Soul Ichor – the sacred blood of Kaha. Surely, any such manipulation of a being’s Soul Ichor would untether it from the inevitability of Kaha’s utopian afterlife... a powerful magic, but entirely antithetical to Kaha-Na-Buhu’s agenda. Exitius may have made an enemy here. Skatal’s law is similar to Exitius, in that it works off the mechanics of Soul Ichor. Any being with Soul Ichor will now – upon death – rapidly rot and decay, via the First Curse. This does not interfere with the transit of the soul, however – and will, probably, be less offensive to Kaha. Notable in their absence are the acts of Bruk and Do-rah. Their power has not diminished, and nor has its potential. At the passing of the turn, this power is siphoned off into the enormity of lord Ao and immediately sent forth into the world. It seems that unused power will, ultimately, return to the Overgod that is its source. The unused power flows into the World-Sphere and new acts are inacted, seemingly by accident from Ao. Bruk and Dor-ah’s power smashes into the rock of the world and spreads outward like a web. Where the strands bounce along the surface fissures of heat and lava are created. Aside from merely creating hot geysers and lava chasms, this unused power resonated both with the MAGIC of Yngbald and the UNCERTAINTY of Ixthalizzum, whilst remaining true to the elemental purity of Bruk and the wild yet ordered nature of Dor-ah. ELEMENTALS are born, unthinking conglomerations of living rock, earth and lava. Most are small, barely a few feet tall, but a sparse few are titanic in size, wandering the World-Sphere as implacable storms of wind, stone and magic. The smallest are visible in the world, many with Carcerium cores, and simply resemble mobile clusters of vaguely animate lava and stone. The largest are content to move in pre-ordained patterns through the rock of the planet – their passage causing earthquakes and surface ruptures. Rarely will an elemental titan breach the surface, but when it does it is a visually spectacular event – and often fatal for those viewing it. AND SO LORD AO LOOKED UPON THE FIRST THINGS AND WAS PLEASED AT THE CRAFTS OF HIS OFFSPRING. AN LO, WAS A NEW LAW OF THE UNIVERSE INTRODUCED. The Gods suddenly find their powers constrained to a structure previously alien to them. They are restricted, but nevertheless extremely powerful. In their hearts, they know that now is truely the time to shape the world. The broad strokes have passed. Though there are now rules to their acts, many more possibilities and powers lie within reach. Go forth and create, Divines. Ao is watching with pride and terrible curiousity. AP SYSTEM ENABLED: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1DnPlYtSt1SYmiKreidYMZukyZArH6chWXtdYfYGCvrk/edit#gid=0 AP ROLL RESULTS: Wol-Kot – 9AP Lavrat-es – 6AP Vyrnen – 12 AP Bruk – 7AP Skatal – 11AP Yngbald – 5AP Ixthalizzum – 7AP Exitius – 7AP Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 8AP Do-rah – 6AP

THE FIRST AGE – PART 1: The Firmament Turn 2 And so it was that the void was made whole. The axis of the world was made by the axis of heaven, for Lavrat-es was the first among the gods to use her power. The World-Sphere, as it would become known, was born – an unmoving sphere of marble, built upon an endlessly intertwined web of marble. The Sphere was pristine, white, unblemished – unadulterated. But Lavrat-es was not alone in being gifted the powers of creation, for others came to make their mark. As it stands, the World-Sphere is an unmoving marble landscape, shaped by vast blue oceans of roiling waves and fierce windstorms, and punctuated by deposits of minerals in the mountains that crop across the world courtesy of Bruk. It is lit primarily by the Sun, a great burning orb that orbits the World-Sphere created by Vyrnen, but also by the mysterious ruby moon – Vula-Marama – the creation of Kaha-na-buhu. Day and night on the world-sphere are contentious concepts, thanks to the work of the changing god Ixthalizzum. The triad moons orbit at great speed and in incomprehensible patterns, their movements causing daily random eclipses and bizarre punctuations of white in the ruby twilight of the World-Sphere’s night. But far from the light of the surface is the work of Wol-Kot, the great Underpath – a labyrinthine lattice of passageways and caves that permeates the entire planet. Perhaps in time, those who will call this world home shall travel these subterranean highways instead of the treacherous seas? Who knows, but for now all that can be found in the Underpath is the hidden temple of the reclusive dreamer. Some features of interest have appeared on this virgin world. Far from the wider changes is the secluded island sanctuary of Vyrnen – where upon the first Life in the universe is created. The white marble flourishes with grasses, mosses and lichens, trees break deep into the stone and the first small animals scurry into being. Although secluded, it is clear that this is the shape of things to come. Elsewhere, on one of the six continents lies the great mountain of the spurned god of chaos, Exitius – a spire of rock and fury that shall surely strike fear into the hearts of the mortals to come. This continent is known as Exitium, and shall perhaps be the one to most strongly feel the influence of the raging deciever. On another lies the Great Burrow, the vast gnawed hole in the world created by the scurryings of the plague god Skatal into the underway. Another continent, a corner of it at least is cultivated by Do-rah, the dual god of the Wild and the Civilized. It is in this secluded realm that animal life is again cultivated – with mixed results. Do-rah’s creations are similar to Vyrnen’s albeit with a prouder gait, and taller stature – if any non-sentient animals could be arrogant, these ones are. But Do-rah’s attempts to create thinking, working beings akin to the minds of the gods... fail. They form from the stuff of creation, but the vast forces wielded by the other gods twist them terribly until they are simply ashen, rocky facsimiles of the mortals Do-rah intended. A great field of mortal-shaped statues now exists within Do-rah’s realm. Soon overtaken by plantlife, the first attempts at creating a ruling race are forever consigned to being an interesting location, or perhaps sought after collector’s items. Upon the largest of the continents, a central place in the great scheme of things, the arcane lord Yngbald creates a vast, towering forest that comes to cover most of the central plane of this continent. In it are a dizzying maelstrom of colourful plants and bizarre aromas. A vast chemical and biological petri-dish is cultivated in the forest, its uses many to those who may seek to learn from it or even call it home. Yngbald’s forest is not alone as one of the engimatic god’s creations, for shortly before he brought Magic into being. This vast system of potential energy rockets across the Void, suffusing everything with a potential spark of magic... who knows how this will eventually manifest, but for now the intent of the law is clear. Those capable of wielding magic will have great power of the physical states of things, capable of transmuting matter to energy, and vice versa, in myrad combinations for remarkable effect! But before Yngbald wrought Magic upon the world, came the act of Wol-Kot. The dreamer extended a fraction of his being across all that exists, creating a hidden, second world only accessible to those with the mental power to wield it. Such beings do not yet exist, despite Do-rah’s efforts, but their coming is inevitable... OOC Mortal creation is STILL banned till the AP system is in place NEXT TURN. Continue shaping the world and its laws as you wish...

TO ALL WHO’VE HAD POSTS DELETED!! You MUST apply on the OOC thread. Currently applications are closed. I’m a relatively new GM so I’m keeping the player group small. Feel free to apply though! Once applications open again, I’ll cherry pick the ones I think will fit in best.

DAWN OF DIVINITY In the beginning there was nothing but formless Void. In that vast emptiness, came Ao – the unfathomable, the singular, the Overgod. And with a single thought was born a pantheon. Beings of unfathomable power and influence, capable of shaping nothing into something – the Gods. Each unique, but each born of the will of mighty Ao, it is their task to create the world as they see fit. They are the lords and masters of all that will be – but even their awesome power pales before the might of Ao. Ao has given the godlings there task. Now it falls to them to create the world. DO NOT POST UNLESS YOUR APPLICATION HAS BEEN ACCEPTED! THE FIRST AGE – PART 1: The Firmament