Catostrophy

Why Haven't you Volunteered yet, Guys? xD xD The Roboids are Getting a Little Frustrated! xD The primitive worshipers residing within Saint Mary's continue their endless work, slowly scraping centuries' worth of grime from the marble floors. The statues - many crumbling at a touch - are gently wiped down with dozens of gallons of water until they return to their original pale complexion. Holes in the walls are patched brick by brick by tireless protectrons working on shaky, scavenged scaffolding and then washed by (mechanical) hand. The work takes hours, days, weeks even, just to make the smallest fix in the ancient stonework. Still they labour on, croaking in their tinny voices and dragging more refuse towards the cathedral. Each piece is broken down, and the part that bore the closest resemblance to the original masonry was taken from the pile of scrap and fitted into it. Support beams rose like trees within the building to safeguard against structural instability, carefully placed by dozens of metal hands to avoid still-existing artworks. There was still so much left to be done... The outskirts of the great metal door that spawned the hundreds of metal men was similarly busy as protectrons began stockpiling old terminals, data-banks, and electronics. Wordlessly they began connecting these old machines together, running long wires towards the great door and plugging them into jury-rigged outlets. After they are all connected, thousands of lines of ones and zeros pour across the screens of the scrapped computers. Something is being improved. Something needs more processing power. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ACTIONS: -Scrap reserves are brought to the cathedral for processing and repair. (1B + 4M towards fixing the cathedral) -Another squadron of robots march out of the great door, passing by makeshift data-banks and processors now littering the outside of the vault. However, ten now stand guard outside the door, carefully scanning the surroundings. Whatever for...? (2M + 2E) -The makeshift data-banks and processors are brought online and information is pouring back into the Vault. Clearly something needs far more resources than what's available. (30,000C + 6B towards 3 data-repositories [labs, essentially]) -9R towards T2 Firearms (total of 25 invested)

ROBOIDS & FRIENDS! 🙂 The new volunteers are put to work almost immediately, having their hunger and thirst quenched via Protocol Emergency Rations (TM) and Protocol Emergency Distilled Water (TM). At first the fifteen figures were extremely confused when asked for identification by the dozens of Protectrons that suddenly marched into St Mary's Cathedral. After a few hours of talking to robots, and seeing their exits completely cut off, they did as told, and began helping move detritus and crumbling stonework from the temples. Their dexterous human hands were extremely useful at prying through junk for resources that mass-produced steel claws were not designed for. Even so, when dozens more robots arrived dragging handcarts of materials it dawned on them that they would not be finishing their 'volunteering' any time soon. At least they were getting fed. The area around St Mary's was scoured for potential resource dumps. Ruined, non-protected houses were cleared for construction, and the electrical grid was slowly reconnected... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Actions: -The protectrons expand to Bucktown to perform refurbishment to the city of Chicago. (10,000C + 5B) -25 more robots slowly walk out of the great doors, getting to work almost as quickly as they appear. (2M + 2E) -25 robots march into the rectangular block directly south of their primary block. As per usual, their interests are searching for volunteers, salvaging robots, and checking on Chicagoan landmarks. -7R towards T2 guns (total of 23R invested)

CHICAGO RECOVERY PROTOCOL The sumptuous robotic tunes continue to warble from the radio station, with the occasional interruption, urging citizens to begin their mandatory civil service. Otherwise, the metal men continue their unending efforts to clean and organised the blasted and abandoned streets. The plumbing is now properly connected, and electricity runs relatively well through the block’s grid. However, with no water sources available (other than what was behind the great metal door) the plumbing is pointless. This would have to be amended in the future. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Actions: (Due to the incessant whining of literal apes, I missed the last quick modpost, so I’ll be doing two) Previous turn: -25 more robots slowly walk out of the great metal doors and begin work with the others. The robotic host grows slowly, but consistently. (2E + 2M spent on 25 T1 servitors) -25 T1 servitors slowly march towards the block directly to the west of their primary block to check on the current state of Logan Square. Specifically, they’re investigating the condition of the Illinois Centennial Monument--one of many Chicago landmarks requiring protection. Their secondary directives are to search for recoverable robots, resources, and potential volunteers. -7R spent on T2 firearms (Total of 9R) Current Turn -15,000C towards 3 new construction yards. -25 more robots march from the great steel doors. A large portion of them are gathering around the vault doors, now, gathering selections of scrap metal and concrete. Car-wrecks are slowly being converted into robot-pulled carts for transporting... something? (2M + 2E towards 25 T1 servitors) -25 protectrons are sent directly east to Bucktown in order to check on the integrity of St Mary of the Angels cathedral. No doubt the beautiful art of this once bountiful seat of the Chicago Archdiocese would have suffered irreparable damage, but hopefully most of the masonry could still be saved. Their secondary directives are to, once again, search for recoverable robots, resources, and potential volunteers. -7R spent on T2 firearms (total of 16R)

Played across dozens of local radio channels (those that can punch through the interference, anyway) a monotonous, tinny, halting announcement blasts itself into the ears of anyone listening. “YOU - ARE - LISTENING - TO - CHICAGO - RECOVERY - PROTOCOL - VOLUNTEER - MORALE - RADIO. THIS – STATION - PLAYS - THE - HOTTEST - HITS - FROM - [ERROR, DATE NOT FOUND] TO [ERROR, DATE NOT FOUND] – ALL - DAY - AND - NIGHT - ON - THIS - FREQUENCY. HAVE - A - SAFE - AND - PRODUCTIVE - WORK - DAY, - VOLUNTEER. REMINDER, - VOLUNTEERING - IS - MANDATORY. PLEASE - BRING - APPROPRIATE - IDENTIFICATION - TO - A - RECOVERY - CENTRE - AT - YOUR - EARLIEST - AVAILABILITY - TO - BEGIN - YOUR - CIVIL - SERVICE.” The voice cuts out, and a song begins to play. Likely, the first of many... Actions: 25 newly constructed bots slowly march into the region north of the primary region, carefully scanning for hostile entities and useful resources. Their primary interest is in raw materials, electronics, and derelict robots. 25 new T1 robots march out of the great door and get to work (2M + 2E) A large, highly organised pile of steel and sheet-metal is arranged by the protectrons, who periodically drag portions of it into the Vault. (7500C + 2B towards a scrapyard) 5R towards guns (total of 10R in T1 guns). 2R towatds T2 firearms.

. “This is an Emergency Public Service Announcement.” The tinny call echoes through the shell of Chicago through ancient speaker systems, connected radios, and telephones. The voice is cheery, although somewhat inhuman. “The CHICAGO RECOVERY PROTOCOL has been activated. In compliance with the Wartime Disaster Relief Act of 2059, all citizens must report to a Recovery Centre for mandatory civil service. Furthermore, all constitutional rights, privileges, and duties are hereby suspended until further notice. Please bring appropriate identification when approaching local recovery centres.” “This has been an Emergency Public Service Announcement. Message will repeat in one minute.” In the centre of the city, rubble and rusted steel within an unassuming, decrepit warehouse begins to shift, and slowly part. Out of a newly made hole climbs a shiny metal figure. It peers around the landscape, quietly scanning the rubble. The silence of the scene amplifies the quiet whirrs and clicks of the small robot. It twists jerkily in the direction of a far-off gunshot, and slowly turns its rigid body in all directions scanning yet again. Assumedly satisfied, it carefully leans over and grasps a large piece of rusted sheet-metal, throwing it to the side. It revealed a dozen further robots that climbed from the new hole, quickly scanning the surroundings and dragging away blocks of fallen concrete, steel girders, and rusted electronics. Dozens more robots start climbing from holes formed by their comrades, clearing out debris from the site, until finally, it is revealed. The sound of blaring clarions echo throughout the slowly clearing complex and great groaning gears began to turn. The great door slowly opens with a puff of stagnant air hissing through its gaps. When the door opens completely even more robots march out of its steel maw carrying bags of concrete, support beams, and construction equipment. The machines begin reconnecting wiring to street-lamps, removing and replacing worthless plumbing, and laying foundations for new structures. Recovery had finally begun. Actions: The quickly work tirelessly, day and night, to clear refuse from the primary site of the vault. However, they also appear to be sorting metal, concrete and electronics from one-another into convenient piles. For what purpose they do is a mystery. After all, they’re not exactly chatting to people about it. (15,000C towards two construction yards) Some of the recovered metals are quickly taken apart and stitched into new shapes. What appear to be strange towers of scrap slowly take the form of wind-power generators. Perhaps the robots require more electricity than expected? (-10,000C + 2B towards two electricity generators (markets, effectively) The sturdier scrap and fresh materials from the vault are set towards reinforcing the entrance of and outer compound of the robots. Are they expecting violence? (1000C + 2B towards 2 fortifications) More and more robots march out of the vault and aid in construction. Where are they coming from...? (-2M + 2E towards 25 T1 servitors) 5R towards T1 firearms.

Name: Samuel “Sammy” Vicenza Age: 39 years young, baby! Gender: Male Description: Standing a little over 6 foot, Sammy is a barrel-chested man with green eyes, peppery-black hair with a high widow’s peak, and a wispy, curly mustache. He speaks (and sings) with a strong baritone which he projects with a mirthful boom. He is rarely seen without a wide grin and is known to grab his belly as he laughs. He commonly wears his chef’s outfit around and about as he “likes to look good for the ladies.” He has a deep fondness for opera (though just ‘The Phantom of the Opera’) and will happily sing at the drop of a hat. While he has mastered an operatic vibrato, he is not too good at keeping in tune. He is overall a likable, amenable (although sleazy) man. Backstory: Sammy was born in downtown New York and loves his city to death. Though he passed high-school with decent grades, college never appealed. Taking up an apprenticeship in plumbing he spent the good part of a decade working as an independent contractor before finding a new passion in cooking. Eventually, he built enough skill in his new interest to land himself a job as head chef in a well-to-do restaurant a few minutes from Broadway. He would obsessively go and see ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ and it became his life’s dream to land the leading role. He loves a good meal, a good beer, a good joke, and a pretty lady on his arm. Though he’s faced a bankruptcy, two divorces, and a hernia, Sammy’s still going strong, pal! He ain’t never gonna quit!

Altaire Storm’s a-brewin’. Can you feel it? Aktions: -60,000C + 12B towards 6 shipyards. -20,000C + 4B towards 4 Heavy industry. -20,000C + 4B towards 4 Warehouses. -35,000C + 7B towards 7 Black Industry. -8000C + 8M + 8NP towards 40 transport ships. Any actions will be written in PMs for sneaky secret shenanigans.

altaire **** im tired stuff happens etc etc. i named my admiral elmo 75,000C towards three new admirals 30,000C + 5M + 5B + 2E towards a planetary shield on altaire prime 15,000C + 3B towards 3 agri heavy industry 5000 + 1B towards a single black industry 15000C + 4M + 4NP towards 1 heavy cruiser 16,000C + 6M + 3NP towards 6 corvettes

Nutritionally Satisfied Altaire The glimmering city stretched far along the horizon beyond the eyes of mortal men. Colonnades hundreds of meters high marked the greatest avenues of the Altairean capital, each one sporting statues of marble and gold of Altairean heroes or leaders centuries old and forgotten. Monuments stood at every intersection, embossed with bronze and dedicated to meaningless ideals put forward by the mad artists that infested the planet. Yet beneath the ostentatious displays of wealth, the streets were crumbling beneath the weight of endless excess. A sea of pinched faces moved sluggishly beneath with barely the strength to look up at the boundless wonders that stretched overhead. In the shadows of these colossi, there were only shades. A three year famine—one that cost the province dearly – was finally at an end. Though the Provincial Information Network spoke with elation and pride that the Altaireans survived the Great Hunger without a single riot, few who walked that pitiful ocean felt much of either. Only the silent relief of a satisfied stomach could bring the hint of a smile across the faces of the faceless. Above both monuments and their hapless denizens, loomed the estate of Stellarch Naei. It had expanded dramatically in recent days; huge, concrete anti-air towers surrounded the once palatial estate and thousands of soldiers patrolled tight passageways and choke-points. Gun emplacements loomed over the larger thoroughfares and watched by stern Altairean Auxilla, each one with a finger on their triggers. Seemingly they were waiting for something, though what that something was remained obscured. Suddenly, an ear-splitting clarion blared, and thousands of men jumped to attention around positions on the walls and entryways of the great citadel. Battle-rifles bristled from firing slits and bunkers, pointing in every direction. Civilian workers were grabbed and thrown into holding areas or rushed out of the estate’s grounds. Minutes passed, then hours. Each man kept to his post, glaring out into streets and avenues while the people went on with their dreary lives. Finally, a second clarion sounded, and the soldiers returned to their usual patrols. Almost every day this occurred. And yet, not one of them knew why. Costs: -30,000C sent to Obertein for 2 units of componants (E). Collected by two Rogue Traders. -34,700C sent to Emirate for 21 units of food (F) -35,000C spat on and handed over to disgusting tax-grabbing statist imperial scum. 😠 Purchases: -225,000C sent to independent Imperial shipyards to construct 5 cruisers and 10 destroyers. -15,000C + 6M + 3NP towards 3 Rogue Traders. -1 Criminal Influence spent on building a place for “concerned merchants who deal in all sorts of things” (Smuggler’s Den) on Altaire Prime. -25,000C + 5B towards constructing 5 Black Industry on Romulus. -7500C + 3B towards building three warehouses on Mediolanum. -29,300C sent right back to that vault, baby! Stats: V V V V

Still Fairly Hungry Altaire (But hopefully not for much longer) -Apparently, Lord Tarau has become immeasurably paranoid. His enormous estate receives considerable security upgrades, fortifications, and a score of new House Auxilla. The innermost chambers are completely reworked, and a detachment of his best, most loyal men are ever seen entering within. (-20,000C + 4B towards fortifying and securing Tarau’s personal estate) -10,000 + 2M + 3NP towards a singular, stanky cruiser. -More money is offered for artifacts but this time with a caveat! A sampling of unusual text is distributed with these offers, promising large rewards for items that sport them. (-20,000C) -The rest, as you may have guessed, is vaulted.

Hungry Altaire -Tarau reaches out to its nearby provincial neighbours, offering money and materials to invest in agriculture-capable worlds. The only caveat to the offer is that any food produced from subsequent farms is shared with Altaire. (sent to Matene, Karuna, Rata, Aihe, Opotiki) (-20,000C + 4 materials offered) -10,000C + 4M + 2NP towards 2 Rogue Traders. -15,000C towards secretsss. -The rest is going into a very thicc vault. Stats VVVV

Province of Altaire The gun sat on the viewing podium; a singular shaft of light piercing through the gloomy room. Its polished barrel glittered and varnished, wooden handle glistened in harmony with the tasteful – yet muted – marble stand. Two men stood just beyond the light, so as not to taint the scene with their presence. They stalked around the weapon, gazing at every angle, seam, and screw. After a few minutes of silent contemplation they stood next to one-another and sighed. “I love the barrel,” murmured Orchyd, “it’s so angular and sturdy. The way it just... melds into the rest of the shape is simply divine.” Chrys Anthymym hummed in agreement and stroked the wispy edges of his long, thin mustache. “Yes yes, I agree. I must say, the revolver pattern was a stroke of blissful brilliance, dear. It lends such a nostalgic elegance to it.” “Oh, stop it, darling.” Orchyd chortled; his towering white, powdered wig wriggling with every gesticulation of his head. “You’re the one who wanted the cocking handle on the outside! You practically handed the idea to me on a golden platter!” “Golden...?” Chrys gave Orchyd an appraising look. “I apologise. Gold is so nouveau riche; Platinum platter.” “Not silver? Daring, Orchyd. Very daring.” Chrys laughed, and turned back to the illuminated firearm. “Yes I dare say this gun-“ “Tsk! Chrys!” “I sincerely apologise dear. This piece truly is perfection. One of the finest examples we’ve ever created.” The two stood in silence for several moments until Orchyd dramatically sighed. “But...?” Chrys huffed and marched up into the light. His long, floral poncho fluttered in the air as he threw up his hands. “It’s so pedestrian, darling! It’s too perfect! Everyone makes things perfect nowadays! Where are the mistakes in its design? The flaws in its metalwork?! The humanity within the art? A scribing console might as well have fabricated it!” He blustered angrily at the weapon, glowering at it and cursing. “Damn that accursed symmetry! Damn its need for conformity! I hate this vile piece! Nay, I despise it!” He stamped his sandaled feet and pouted at his associate. “I know, I know, darling.” Orchyd trotted next to him with a similar miserable face. “I just didn’t want to say anything. Symmetry is just not in like it was last week.” The two stared at the gun, as if it exuded a foul smell. “Well,” sighed Chrys. “To the furnace it goes, chum.” “Right away, Chrys! I’ll inform the apprentices!” Orchyd clattered off, his clogs carrying him as quickly as they were able. He burst from the darkened room and into a vast hall. His latex overalls squeaked as he ran, and the vast wig peppered powder upon the floor. All around him, younger men in similar dress plied their trades—painting, scribbling blueprints, sharpening blades and milling barrels. The Gallery of Fine Arms was bustling more than ever before, with each new weapon a greater masterpiece than the last. Art, as it turns out, was almost entirely absent in weapons manufacturing. Aesthetic and practical firearms were an even rarer sight. Such as it was, to have an obsessive and deeply pretentious art studio turn into a gunsmith resulted in some cultural oddities. “Apprentices, darlings! Lend me your ears and eyes, I say!” Shouted Orchyd. The young artisans looked up from their work curiously, and Orchyd continued on after a few laboured breaths. “Master Anthymym is coming through with a dangerously passé piece. Avert your eyes! You must not let its dowdy form tarnish your precious imagination!” The students gasped and wailed in panic. Some ran to the farthest corners of the room, and others jumped behind their tables. The braver ones stayed in place and pulled their wigs over their heads and clammed their eyes shut. Soon enough everyone was blinded, and Chrys Anthymym quickly walked into the room. As the footsteps grew closer, the students flinched, whimpered, and curled into balls. All but one, who, through sheer morbid curiosity, opened their tearful eyes for but a second. Orchyd spotted her immediately. “Apprentice Lylyc!” Orchyd screeched, hurrying over to her as tears welled at the corner of her eyelids. “Did you see it?! Tell me at once, girl!” In a shaky voice she uttered barely audibly, “Yes.” “Have you been inspired?! By the mercy of the Masters, tell me you have not been inspired by such a vapid work!” “I... I...” She stammered, breathing quickly. “... I have so many new ideas...” “No, child!” Orchyd screamed. “You mustn’t let these frumpy thoughts litter you so!” Orchid grasped the hems of his overalls, and revealed his clogged feet. He quickly pulled one of the platinum anklets from his leg and placed it before her eyes. “Look at this, Lylyc! It is the utmost vogue this season! Look at it and forget what you saw!” He hugged the shaking apprentice, before rushing off after Chrys. The two barreled into a hallway, roaring at any and all who might get in their way. Artists fled before the unfashionable display, praying they wouldn’t contract the same drabness. Finally, they arrived at the furnace room, where a number of serfs were tossing rubbish into the searing flames. “Out of the way!” Bellowed Chrys, holding the gun by the barest of fingertips. “This is an emergency!” The serfs collectively sighed and stood against the wall, while two grown men shrieked as they threw a perfectly functional artisanal pistol into the fire. A normal Tuesday, all in all. -55,000C + 11B towards 11 heavy industry on Honoria. -10,000C + 2M + 3NP towards 1 cruiser. -Rest o’ da dollars are put inna vault, baby. Stats VVVV

Hey. Altaire here. Things: -35,000C + 7B towards seven heavy industry on Spalatum. -20,000C + 4B towards two shipyards. -5500C + 1M + 1NP towards 100 starfighters. -10,000C towards offered rewards for artifacts of human origin. -70,550C sent to the bank, baby!

The Province of Altaire The fourth hour of Altaire Prime’s daylight period began. The inscribing console whirred into life as it powered on. The setup sequence was initialising, but there was no time to waste staring at a black screen. The first clerk handed Tarau a data-pad pertaining to a legal issue between two planetary governors over mining rights in an asteroid belt. He quickly tapped out his conclusion and the clerk marched away without a word. Both claims were idiotic, but he sided with the one who wrote the most earnestly. The next clerk entered with several stacks of data-chips full of trade and tax information. It was dropped on his desk without a word, and they departed as quickly as they arrived. Tarau disliked those that spoke needlessly—government employees who insisted on small-talk were quickly expelled from institutions he frequented. He set the tray to the left of his impeccably neat desk and organised the chips from most to least important. The head of the accountancy department pushed in front of the next clerk. He quickly informed Tarau that the tithes from the Honoria system would be delayed for a week due to administrative error. Tarau nodded once, and the man left as quickly as he entered. This was the first time Honoria had made such a mistake, but he wouldn’t bother investigating unless it happened again. He placed two of the chips to the right of his console, and a waiting attendant swiped them immediately and rushed out of the room. The console finished its start-up sequence. He loaded the chips into ports at the front of his console and numbers began to flash across the screen. Provincial tithes were stable, but not acceptable. Massive food imports were necessary in order to keep the plebs at minimum nutritional balance. He brought up the information on the planetary bodies capable of producing Nutri-Pleb and scowled at their lack of output. The issue would have to be solved, and soon. The attendant returned, and Tarau tapped twice on the empty space his right. The attendant ran off to fetch him a cup of Patri-Caffe. Another clerk marched in, and placed two data-pads before him. One bore an invitation to a lavish banquet a system-baron was throwing. The second bore a message from the Baron of the Basilius system who proclaimed the banquet to be an assassination attempt on him. The latter Baron was a known paranoid and recluse. Tarau quickly tapped out a short message of thanks, and then tapped out a polite apology for his absence at the future banquet on the first pad. He wasn’t interested in going anyway, and he considered it a fine enough excuse. A messenger walked to his desk and read out a missive from the Altairean Senator on Kaumai. He was willing to look into space for construction, provided he was sent the funds to “convince” zoning officials in the capital. It was nearly a month since he had sent the initial message through his personal psykic. The network seemed to get slower by the day. Hopefully the funds for the project itself would arrive without much difficulty. The sound of a commotion beyond his view almost drew his gaze away from tax analytics. The shattering of crockery dragged his attention to it, albeit with some annoyance. A flamboyantly dressed man with long feathers protruding from a beehive of hair sauntered into the room, wiping what smelled like patri-caffe from his sleeve. Tarau narrowed his sallow eyes. “My most gracious of Stellarchs,” Chrys began with a mirthful grin, bowing so low that the feathers tickled the floor. “No.” Tarau interrupted tersely. Chrys looked up from his bow with a start. “...but my gracious lord, I hav-“ “No.” Tarau interjected, this time far more sternly. Chrys blinked, and with a dejected slump trudged back out the door. He kicked at pieces of the broken mug as he left, which brought the attendant to the verge of tears as she scrambled to clean the mess. In a brief moment of fearful instrict, she glanced over to Tarau. He stared back, and tapped the empty space to his right. She quickly ran out of view. An utter waste of time--that Patri-caffe spill put him several minutes behind schedule. Tarau looked back to his analytics and made a note to bar entry to Chrys Anthymym before at least the eighth hour of daylight. The imbecile would be dealt with later. For now, there were other issues to be reviewed. He was still waiting on further information regarding the rebels on the galactic rim. They cited strange ideological positions of “worker’s rights” and “freedom” and (with little surprise) the plebs saw this as a chance to seize power from their rightful Stellarchs. He had ensured the “intellectual” contagion was excised from the pleb information networks, and those who carried “traitorous” data were punished firmly. He would accept no time-wasting in his province. However, there was still much to be done in terms of defense and industrialization. Tarau always had an eye for opportunity, and it was waiting for someone to cast their dice. The attendant returned, eyes clear of tears, and placed the Patri-caffe in its intended spot. Tarau did not spare her a glance. It had only been ten minutes, and there was still much work to do. ACTIONS: -10,000C + 2B spent on 1 shipyard in the Nepos system. -20,000C + 4B spent on 4 heavy industry in the Spalatum system. -40,000C is sent to Senator Dysy Pytyl in order to both “convince” and enable the construction of a massive monument on the capital world. It would depict Emperor Akoni, blade in hand, pointing into the sky. At precisely midnight, the sword’s tip would point directly at the moon above the world, symbolizing the Emperor’s might and authority. -40,000C is sent to Stellarch Nalani in order to aid in his campaign against the vile alien threat. Although Altaire is far afield, Stellarch Tarau is always happy to aid the defenders of the Empire. -10,000C is put up as a bounty offered to any and all within Altaire and nearby systems for relics and unidentified objects of human origin. Tarau wishes to build his collection, and although he is a busy man, he allows himself one hour per day for personal activities. -11,450 is vaulted. Stats

PROVINCE OF ALTAIRE Starting Systems: 1M, 2M, 3M, 4M, 5M, 12M, 13M, 14M, 15M, 16M Point Distribution: Loyalty: 5 Influence: 0 Military: 5 Leadership: 5 Infrastructure 6 Stellarch and their History: Lord Tarau Naei was born the youngest into a tumultuous period of his family’s holdings. Studious in his youth, he took to reading old tales of valour and grand, historical epics. As he grew older, his interests expanded into history and archaeology with much of his allowances spent on artifacts and old, crumbling data-vaults of ancient treatises. Yet even with these distractions he could see the danger on the horizon. His father was ruining the province’s economic prospects with endless vanity projects. He patronized dozens of art schools and constructed vast complexes and palaces for himself and his favoured subjects. In the shadows, Tarau’s uncles and older brothers quietly invited him to join a coup to end the foolishness. Tarau’s eldest brother would take over as Stellarch and rebuild the province (with generous dispensations and titles granted to his loyal family, of course). With that, the murder was planned to take place during a lavish family banquet. His father was beaten to death with silverware and repeatedly stabbed with steak-knives. Yet just after the act was complete, the guards burst in and fell upon them, slaughtering the family in its entirety. Yet this was with the exception of Tarau, who had bravely informed the guards of the vile plot, but too late to save his wasteful, pretentious father. A true shame. Now in control of the province, he discovered just how poorly the finances had been mismanaged. Most of the wealth and resources had been funneled into monuments and fine art to the detriment of infrastructure, industry, and trade. Debt had climbed so high that considerable capital had to be secured at any cost immediately. Tarau reorganized the art guilds (still having the majority of the provinces’ resources at their disposal) into weapons and goods manufacturers, but they could not generate enough. He sold off every piece of gold and silver in his father’s palaces, stripped hundreds of monuments from their podiums, and auctioned them off for every credit they were worth, but it was still not enough. He sold off most of the provincial fleet, half the arsenal, and his father’s whole harem, and yet it was still not enough. Finally, he approached the final source of income he had not yet squeezed dry. It was lucrative, dangerous, illegal, but available. He took the chance, and made some shrewd deals with the underworld. This, finally, was enough. Though distasteful, the “goods” that were produced was enough to begin kick-starting the province’s economy. Though it was low on many basic necessities, there was enough money flowing to feed the plebs and rebuild infrastructure. Eventually the guilt of illegality began to fade, and soon after he no longer cared. Stripped of family, stripped of morals, and stripped of empathy, he began to seek out the only thing he cared for—his own power and prestige... ... as well as artifacts. He still liked those. Additional Characters: Huana Rui: Field Marshal of the Provincial Forces of Altaire. Formally the Guard Captain of the palace, he took part in the bloody massacre of Tarau’s family and was rewarded for some completely inexplicable reason. He took great care to get the troops back into fighting form, and has made significant progress despite much of its equipment being sold. Chrys Anthymym: The owner of Altaire’s Gallery of Fine Arms, the first – and largest – art-school-turned-armoury. He was initially quite upset to see his many projects stripped and sold, but later saw it as a new field of creativity he had yet to appreciate. Military hardware was always so bulky and ugly, and although brutalism had a sort of brusque charm to it, many avenues for artistry had potential to bloom. “Mr Green”: A representative of “concerned merchants” who deal specifically in “niche luxury goods” and “exclusive products for a refined clientele.” Only speaks to the Stellarch in person. Toto Momokomba: A loremaster and evaluator of unusual items that Tarau enjoys collecting. Little is known about him aside from his arrival from the core provinces some twenty years ago. Senator Dysy Pytyl: The most pretentious, unlikable man in all of the senate. Provincial Culture: Aesthetics: Late Roman Prideful and loyal to its Stellarch, the province of Altaire has a uniquely mixed bag of attitudes. On one hand they are great patrons of the arts and philosophy, on the other, women are not allowed to hold positions of any political authority. Aesthetics are very important to the populace with many superstitious attitudes about “balance” and “harmony” within buildings prevailing over logic and pragmatism. Great statues of notable Altairean figures dot the worlds of the province, though some are still in considerable disrepair. Growing wealth has seen the expansion of financial institutions, but there is also an undercurrent of fear for certain “unnameable industries” that lurk beneath the clean streets of certain worlds. Most think it best not to talk about it. The planets are divided into a hierarchy of barons beneath the Stellarch, with most planets having their own individual laws and regulations in conjunction with provincial laws. Baronies are hereditary positions, and can only be approved by the Stellarch. Democracy of any sort is outright banned and heavily repressed. Unique Units: Rogue Traders: Heavily armed and armoured freighters in the hands of somewhat adventurous individuals who tend to secretly carry goods of an unsavoury nature. Explorers, smugglers, blockade runners, and fantastic businessmen, these vagabonds are known for their flamboyancy, but mostly their discretion. (5/2/1) Shell-Crackers: Heavily armoured, heavily armed, and with twice the engines, these heavy cruisers utilise a long-disused ship design found in a small archive of forgotten lore. Lord Tarau found the design so unusual that he had to have it built for curiosity’s sake. Finding it to be better than a standard heavy cruiser, he found it strange that it thrown out in favour of an inferior one... (4/4/4) Pick a number between 1 – 10: Seven, baby!

Arakelgûrdin Far in the distance the Towers of Ninur loomed within the bounds of the Mere District. Though half of them were in ruins, they still retained their centuries-old grandeur as their long shadows dimmed portions of the city. Out in the ‘Commons’ – the outermost districts -- the world was very different. None of the magical splendor was to be seen among the peasants, and the area could be mistaken for any other city along the shores of the Chtor. Arakelgûrdin was special for sure, but someone still needed to sweep the streets and unclog the latrines. Common, non-magical folk had flocked to the outskirts of the city for centuries. Protection under the sorcerers had many benefits, even if the downsides could be severe at times. The ports were busy with all sorts of merchants loading and unloading cargo. The busy warehouses were a major congestion problem that the Five Families seemed mostly unconcerned about fixing. The ports were undersized for the traffic they brought and the endless lines made any roads leading from the sea a true hive of misery and frustration. Though at least when travelling the thin roads to the markets one could browse the small, artisan shops that dotted the main thoroughfares. Were you to look closely down a dark alleyway or two, you might even see something a bit less pleasant. In this instance, in the alley behind Migward & Samush’s Odds ‘n Ends, a mutated, ironclad giant was currently ‘passively harming’ an alchemy student. Gruguuz shook the young man once more, though it didn’t elicit anything other than a groan. Though one couldn’t see his face, the eight-foot monster grunted with what could be interpreted as impatience. Armoured head to toe in thick, steel armour, he grasped the young apprentice by his leg and held him a foot above the ground. Allowing the blood to rush to the man’s head was one of many ‘encouragements’ the monster was familiar with. The occasional jostle was mostly to speed the order his master had given him. Leaning on his staff with a sly grin, a brightly-dressed man with a well-trimmed black beard twirled his mustache and gazed amused at the victim of his attentions. His visage screamed ‘Strazi (of a bloodline originating from Samalstraza) and his clothes were clearly worn to match. “I’m not sure, Gruguuz.” Zaruthsatesh purred sarcastically. “Maybe our friend Filibus didn’t hear our question the first time? Bashemdi do tend to be drowsy sorts.” He shifted more weight on his staff, and spoke louder to the hanging Filibus. “Where are the scrolls from your Tower you promised me?” Filibus groaned, trying to grasp on to something to cease his pendulum swinging. His face was red and weary, and he croaked his reply with watery eyes. “I... I haven’t got them yet, sir!” Zaruthsatesh sighed and shook his head. “Yes, you said that before, but I told you that I wouldn’t accept ‘I don’t have them’ as an answer before, didn’t I? Are you trying to displease me?” “No! No sir! I simply n-need more time! They were moved...” Zaruthsatesh clicked his tongue and looked to his massive bodyguard. “I’m not sure, Gruguuz. What do you think about that answer?” Gruguuz slowly looked at his master, his helm showing no hint of emotion. “I think he is brave to speak these words despite having thin, brittle bones.” He tightened his grip on Filibus’ leg which elicited a pained shriek. With a chuckle Zaruthsatesh waved lazily towards the ground and Gruguuz released his grip. Filibus collapsed in a heap with a yelp and grasped his leg whimpering. “Gruguuz!” Zaruthsatesh scolded in a mocking tone. “Don’t be so rough! Don’t you know who this is?” He leaned down and grasped Filibus hard by the chin, and hissed through gritted teeth. “He is a very well-paid agent of Deacon Eelswick, who is being - if I may remind him a second time – extremely well-compensated for his singular task of obtaining a particular scroll of alchemical secrets. And yet, much like the whores he was shamefully perusing-“ The sorcerer quickly turned to four scantily-dressed women fearfully huddling against the far wall. “Dreadfully sorry about all this.” He winked, and turned his attention back to Filibus. “-you appear to be wasting everybody’s time! Including your wife’s apparently...” “Please! Mister Zarut-“ “Gormashur Zaruthsatesh is what you will call me, you blithering worm! Do not annoy me now, Filibus, or I swear I will take your ignorant tongue!” “Master Gormashur Zaruthsatesh sir! Please! I was ready to get it! They just moved it before I had a chance! I just need more time!” Filibus’ eyes darted between the furious Zaruthsatesh and the looming, silent Gruguuz. Zaruthsatesh sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “I suppose I could give you the briefest of extensions on your task. Still, though...” The sorcerer looked to his bodyguard and gestured towards Filibus. “... I think a reminder on the risks of irritating me ought to be performed.” Gruguuz grabbed the apprentice around the throat, and pulled him up to his feet. He grasped the young man’s fist with his other dinner-plate sized hand and squeezed. Filibus silently screamed while each finger on his hand cracked and snapped from the pressure. After a few painful seconds Gruguuz tossed him back on the ground and Filibus attempted to scream in pain and gasp for air at the same time. “Oh don’t drool like an infant.” Zaruthsatesh chided. “I could have had him crush your right hand.” “Buh-but I write with my left!” Filibus wheezed. “Then consider this an opportunity to learn how to use the correct one.” Zaruthsatesh grinned with an airy wave. “Taa taa. I’ll see you next week, and I expect something worth my time.” With that, the sorcerer sauntered out of the alleyway with his bodyguard stomping closely behind him. Stepping into the clogged street, Gruguuz glared at some of the merchants and the crowds parted quite quickly. With a jaunty step the sorcerer tapped Gruguuz on the shoulder with his staff before trotting down the quickly forming path. “Come come, my big friend. I hunger for some chizpa down by the docks. These blunted serfs can make a decent snack, I’ll give them that.” Gruguuz followed after, occasionally shoving the more inattentive bystanders into the dirt. “Master, am I going to kill your spy?” He rumbled. “Mmm. Probably not.” Said Zaruthsatesh thoughtfully. “His bloodline has a penchant for high magical skill. It would be wasteful to kill him before he’s had a chance to breed. I’ll have to pay his wife a visit again to ensure he’s being productive on that front.” Gruguuz paused in thought for a moment. “Visit her again?” “Well.” The sorcerer twirled his staff with a smirk. “I have to be absolutely sure he is doing his duties for his Patrons. Even if I must visit her five, maybe even ten more times.” Gruguuz pondered the implication for another silent moment, before asking. “I thought you wanted him to breed?” “I’ll let him squeeze a child in between a couple of mine. By Marashur’s bloody towers I am starving!” National Ideas: -Can use any of the Five Schools, but each mage may only use one branch, -Cannot recruit any military units aside from Mîr Sûragon, -No passive magic research, instead have a larger bonus to magic research investments, -Can steal one weak to mid-level spell from any mage residing within its walls for one turn. -Can rebuild its missing schools of magic by acquiring one mage and three adepts from a missing school (mage and adepts are “consumed” during this process) -Can construct the “Arakelgûrdin Exchange” office in any consenting city at the cost of 25,000 population and 12,000 gold. Provides 4000 gold to Arakelgûrdin and 2000 gold to the host nation. Resources: Population: 1,350,000 Default: 10,000 gold, Civilian Manufacturing: 0 Commercial Districts: 0 Trade: Trade Depots: 0 Upkeep: 0 One time cash infusion: 300,000 gold. Cash sent by the Chicahtoc Empire: 20,000 gold. Spending Gold: 330,000 gold (-10,000 gold towards one Commercial District in Arakelgûrdin) (-10,000 gold towards one trade depot) (-60,000 gold and 125,000 pop towards 5 Arakelgûrdin Exchange offices in the Amarantic Dominion) (-60,000 gold and 125,000 pop towards 5 Arakelgûrdin Exchange offices in the Chicahtoc Empire) (-32,000 gold towards four adepts) (-35,000 gold towards one mage) (-60,000 gold towards 500 regular T4 Mîr Sûragon) (-15,000 gold towards three mines) (-15,000 gold towards two Heavy Industry) (-10,000 gold towards one port) (-20,000 gold towards MAGICAL RESEARCH) MAGICAL RESEARCH (10 Points in Magic) -Itsa secrit TECH RESEARCH (10 Points in Technology) -T5 Armours: The Forgemasters in conjunction with the School of Alchemy and the School of Elements begin the next great metallurgy project. The city would have the premier armour and weapons in all the lands! Ripe for sale, of course... -War Caravel: The shipmasters, currently working in pathetic conditions, are demanded to design a newer, grander vessel for... something. They say “Okay.” They will never be rid of absurd demands from the Five Families, but business is business... -Telescopes: Wizards need to look at stars.

Yeah Kreferus usually accepts new people if they’re active and their app is decent. Good luck!

Arakelgûrdin Discord: You got it. Nation Name: Arakelgûrdin Government Type: Despotic Aristocratic Magemony. The city is ruled by a loose confederation of five highly influential sorcerer families, each with an iron grip over one of the five remaining schools of magic. The five decide most matters with a majority vote and treat their portions of the city as their personal demesne. They rule primarily through fear and intimidation, and resemble something closer to an organisation of criminal syndicates than a school. Magic Type: Half of all magic :abo:--Alchemy, Direct, Essence, Form, Elements (The other five have since been lost) Leader: No-one. Anyone publically stating that they are the ‘leader’ of Arakelgûrdin tends to end up dead. The Five Families control the schools, and that is all that matters. History: Centuries ago, when the Atemites’ empire was still strong, Samalstraza stood as a beacon of wisdom and enlightenment that few were ever to surpass. In these hallowed halls of wisdom, Masashur the Luminescent was educated in the many forms of magic. Unparalleled in his time, he drew envious glares from others in his strata, as it was clear he was destined for great things in that red fortress. The problem was that he also knew he was destined for great things, and within him grew an arrogance and narcissism so repugnant that few would tolerate his presence for even a short lecture. Before long, he was overlooked for council and advice, and even his research was thrown aside! It mattered not that he was brilliant in his dissertations, other deacons and rectors would toss his work away just to spite him! Samalstraza simply couldn’t be without his genius! He would rise through the ranks and deliver enlightenment no matter what! He forced his work onto the tables of the rectors through intimidation. He bullied and threatened his way into important projects and pushed out anyone who complained. Eventually he attempted to “convince” a sorcerer of the Scholar school to “change someone’s mind,” and the Hasâshem herself tired of his endless scandels and obnoxiousness. He was finally exiled from the city, much to everyone’s relief. Masashur took to travelling the lands and working for reputable rulers, endlessly slandering his home city as he did so. As he grew older however he thought better of Samalstraza—at least the parts with students, servants, and influence. Thus he gathered together other Salamstrazi exiles, hedge-wizards, dutiful magii, and crawling sycophants to start his own Academy. Sû Arakelgûrdin iss mîr Arâlin drew a great number of magii who desired the secrets of Samalstraza, and whole districts needed to be constructed in order to contain them. Ten massive towers housed the ten schools of magic, each one a veritable university in its own right. Great discoveries were made, lost, found again, and later claimed by Masashur as his own work. He desired nothing more than to spite Samalstraza and their ideals, and even created the Mîr Sûragon as a rival to the famous Thrice Chosen. But even the most insufferable of people must die, and eventually Masashur the Luminescent passed from this world with absolutely no plan for how leadership was to be transferred. The backstabbing began almost immediately, with the school of Light attempting to destroy the school of Dark. But this was but the prelude of a twenty year debacle where murder and crime took hold. All pretense towards education and enlightenment were thrown aside as the Deacons spread their influence and enriched themselves on various black markets across the civilized world. Direct conflict was rare, but when a fight began it was guaranteed that all the other schools would join in to destroy one of their rivals. Eventually, five of the schools slowly withered and died, taking their secrets with them. When the last Deacon and practitioner of the Runemancy school vanished without a trace a union of dissident Alchemists and the entirety of the Mîr Sûragon forced the five schools into a peace treaty. And so the descendants of those remaining Deacons, the Five Families, have kept their tenuous hold over the city ever since. It has grown large and fat with trade and power, yet still the Families watch one-another as carefully as those outside of it. Arakelgûrdin, as it is now only known, is not the first place one looks for knowledge of magic... ...but if you’re not careful it may be the last. Culture: Arakelgûrdin is a pseudo-colony of Samalstraza, though it was not sanctioned (or wanted, for that matter) by the venerable city. A large portion of its original founders were exiles, eccentrics, and uncouth sorts from the ancient city and carried over many of its traditions and myths. On the other hand, hedge-wizards and magii from other lands intermixed with the Samalstrazi contingents and added their own flair. This has lead to a somewhat bastardized variant of the Samalstrazi culture and language to flower. Though the Five Families and other varied influential bloodlines can show an arrogant aloofness to the mother city, exiles are welcomed warmly and are vigorously fought over for sponsorship. The city is heavily stratified. It is said that the proximity one is to the Ten Towers is a decent indicator of rank and privilege within Arakelgûrdin society. The hierarchy of the city is stacked as thus: The Five Families: The most powerful Magii of the city, each one is a ‘Deacon’ of a Tower of Nimreh. The Tower of Rishâ is controlled by Argot ‘the Gray-Bearded,’ Deacon of the Essence school. The Tower of Rimas is controlled by Castigor Eelswick, Deacon of the Form school. The Tower of Adûr is controlled by Keshgûr VI, Deacon of the Direct school. The Tower of Yanash is controlled by Shûrbenezzer VIII ‘the Sumptuous,’ Deacon of the Alchemy school. Lastly, the Tower of Yamashek is controlled by Vimrezal III, Deacon of the Elements School. The Order of Ascension: The secretive alchemists that perform the arcane alchemical-rituals within the Kushmarkham. As per the treaty between the Five Families, the Order has first pick on prospective students to fill their ranks. As the only ones to know the secrets of The Change the Mîr Sûragon undergo, they are important enough to the city’s defence that they are allowed some privileges over the rulers. As the philosophical/religious core of the city they work as mediators between the Families, and their council is often sought even if begrudgingly. The Gormashur: Highly prized magii that travel to foreign lands to represent the city and worm their way into the good graces of local rulers. They are often trusted subordinates of The Five Families, or powerful people they want out of the city for a while. Rûshastan: Mages sponsored (and hoarded) by one of the five families. They compete for attention and rewards from their masters. They are the most prolific researchers of the city, and also some of the most skilled practitioners of the magical arts. The Bashemdi: Aspiring hopefuls looking to be sponsored by one of the five families. They attend the lectures and are expected to perform the most degrading and menial tasks for their superiors along with their own personal study. The Mîr Sûragon: The brutal legion of heavily armoured, eight-foot mutants who guard the city and its most important locations. Their barracks is within the Kushmarkham with the Order of Ascension, but they mostly live with the masters they are assigned to. They never talk of what occurs in the Kushmarkham, and they never remove their armour unless within its secluded confines (if they do at all, that is). Vagrants: Anyone who is not magically inclined is considered a ‘vagrant.’ However, the merchants, criminals, and labourers provide much of the coin the city enjoys. Though Arakelgûrdin magii are very talented at their five remaining schools, two stand out far more than the others: Direct Magic: Considered one of (if not the most) powerful school, the family of Keshgûr have kept this magic well honed, and extremely deadly. Their great library is packed to the brim with thousands of tomes, some even originating from Samalstraza itself. Alchemy: The school that superseded Blood magic in cultural importance, the alchemists of the Order of Ascension and the family of Shûrbenezzer plumb into the deepest secrets of their science. Groups/Places of Interest: The Towers of Nimreh: At the very centre of the city, the great schools of magic are relegated their own specific tower. Places of dark secrets, incomprehensible discoveries, and lethal competition, the towers loom over the whole city casting an imposing shadow. Only five of them remain inhabited, while the other five are crumbling, dust-riddled ruins. Runic inscriptions (said to be inscribed by Masashur himself) bring down lethal traps upon those entering a tower who are not of the appropriate school. It makes security rather simple, but extremely dangerous for visitors and spies alike. The Four ‘Murets:’ A series of four massive, thick walls that surround and divide the four districts of Arakelgûrdin. They are as old as the city itself, but the dark stone is yet to be identified and their origins are a mystery to even the Five Families. Kushmarkham: What was once the laboratory/university/palace of Marashur the Luminescent; it is now the location of the Order of Ascension and the barracks of the Mîr Sûragon. The place is heavily guarded by the latter, and neither the Order nor the Mîr Sûragon are willing to speak of what occurs within. The Brightest House: A private palace adjacent to the Kushmarkham that houses the Sorcerers of Arakelgûrdin. The place is deeply imbued with magical power, and though few enter it, none can deny the raw energy the place exudes. Key Figures: Argot ‘the Silver-Bearded,’ Deacon of the School of Essence. Leadership: 4 Martial Skill: 0 Charisma: 0 Arcane Skill: 9 Agility: 0 Zaruthsatesh VII, Gormashur sponsored by Castigor Eelswick of the School of Form. Leadership: 0 martial Skill: 0 Charisma: 6 Arcane Skill: 7 Agility: 0 Gruguuz, Mîr Sûragon, subject to the whims of Zaruthsatesh VII Leadership: 0 Martial Skill: 13 Charisma: 0 Arcane Skill: 0 Agility: 0 Point Distribution: Loyalty: 2 Magic: 10 Starting Spells: (Will discuss in discord because HO BOY will there be a lot!) Tech: 10 Military: 0 Sea faring: 3 Economy: 5 National Idea: -Can use any of the Five Schools, but each mage may only use one branch, -Cannot recruit any military units aside from Mîr Sûragon, -No passive magic research, instead have a larger bonus to magic research investments, -Can steal one weak to mid-level spell from any mage residing within its walls for one turn. -Can rebuild its missing schools of magic by acquiring one mage and three adepts from a missing school (mage and adepts are “consumed” during this process) -Can construct the “Arakelgûrdin Exchange” office in any consenting city at the cost of 25,000 population and 12,000 gold. Provides 4000 gold to Arakelgûrdin and 2000 gold to the host nation. Unique Units: The Sorcerers of Arakelgûrdin (2 slots): Blood-descendents of Marashur, these sorcerers can call forth all their magical power for a single, devastating spell (T6) that has a 50/50 chance to kill them on the spot after casting (Max of one per school) Mîr Sûragon (1 slot): Towering armour-clad warriors that heft heavy two-handed swords. Standing at nearly eight feet in height, strong as three men, and with a modest natural resistance to magical and physical attacks, these juggernauts cleave men in twain with the barest of effort. They are created through an alchemical process called “The Change,” that none outside the Kushmarkham know of. What they lack in speed of body and mind they make up for in sheer might. Starting Location: To be discussed. Huwhite.

KEMET The war for true holiness continues on, raging as ever. There will be no quarter for the blasphemers, for once this land is finally vanquished the world will tremble before the nine gods. Repent, Outsider! Kneel before the Pharaohs! The Eye sees all, and will judge. Special Rules: "Foundations upon Bones"- population may be expended for construction instead of money. 5 x gold cost = pop expended. Only for buildings Trade and Diplomacy completely disallowed, several buildings replaced, +0.25% to all army upkeep thresholds --Tribute Depot: Provides 250 per conquered city or town --Labour District: Provides 3000, 1 per city --Slaver Quarters: Provides 750, one per 250,000 Extra Buildings: Exclusive to Conquered Cities --Temple of Life & Service: Reduces loyalty of a city by 1 (10,000) --Obelisk to the Gods: Provides 4000 (15,000) Resources: Population: 32,000 gold, Default: 10,000 gold, Slaver Quarters: 51,000 Labour Districts: 18,000 Obelisks to the Gods: 8000 Tribute Districts: 1000 Red Gold: 17,045,212 Upkeep: 25,625 gold. 20,000 (ish?) in storage. Spending Gold: 94,375 (114,375 with stored gold) Army Production: 9 -40,000 gold towards 1 Mage -20,000 gold towards 4 ballistae. -16,000 gold towards 1000 regular T3 Medium Infantry, -20,000 gold towards [REDACTED] -1625 gold removed from storage, Ongoing Magic Research: Ip’s Mind-Breaker (T2): A group will be afflicted with a deep sense of paranoia, and may hallucinate things just out of sight, or strange noises. Ongoing Tech Research: T4 Armour.

Kemet I really need to write RP at some point, don’t I? Special Rules: "Foundations upon Bones"- population may be expended for construction instead of money. 5 x gold cost = pop expended. Only for buildings Trade and Diplomacy completely dissallowed, several buildings replaced, +0.25% to all army upkeep thresholds --Tribute Depot: Provides 250 per conquered city or town --Labour District: Provides 3000, 1 per city --Slaver Quarters: Provides 750, one per 250,000 Extra Buildings: Exclusive to Conquered Cities --Temple of Life & Service: Reduces loyalty of a city by 1 (10,000) --Obelisk to the Gods: Provides 4000 (15,000) Resources: Population: 18,000 gold, Default: 10,000 gold, Slaver Districts: 25,000 gold, Labour Districts: 12,000 gold, Looted goods: 3000 gold, Red Gold: 9,369,862 fleshy coins, Upkeep: 11,260 gold, 56,740 spending gold, 13,990 in storage. Army Production: 9 -13,000 gold towards 2000 regular T2 Medjay Horsemen, -17,000 gold towards 1000 regular T3 Chariots! -24,000 gold towards 1500 regular T3 medium infantry 2490 gold sent to storage. Ongoing Magic Research: Rakh’s Unyielding Hearth (T3): Ready 873 Invocation of Sekhmut (T4): Ready 872 REDACTED!!: Ready 874 Ongoing Tech Research: Heavy Cavalry: Ready 872 3.5 Armour: Ready 878

Kemet The ten days of Khepfru’s harvest are rife with portents. I send you my recollections for examinations so that you and the other priests may divine their meaning, should there be any. May the blessings of the nine gods enlighten the priesthood. First day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw within a blighted wetland a man with a red face. He smiles, and beckons me closer. As I step through the water I feel leeches feed on my blood, and though the man prostrates before me I can see the knife he hides beneath his tunic. Second day of the Khepfru harvest: I saw a crowned bull standing in a wide field. Behind a feeble fence another, larger bull looks upon it greedily. Next, the first bull changes to a cow and the milkmaids approach it for their bounty. Yet still the second bull watches waiting for its chance. An impasse? Third day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw a mighty horse resplendent with silvery armour. It strutted proudly around its corral whinnying with pleasure, all the while trampling the bones of lesser horses and mules. A butcher sharpens his golden knives beyond the horse’s view. Neither knows of the other yet. Fourth day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw a thousand noblemen draped in tapestries and praying to foreign gods. While the tapestries are beautiful they depict nonsense and the nobles mimic the words of better men. When I turn my back they change to their true forms as carrion, but remain silent while they watch and wait for their prey. Fifth day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw wooden men swimming upon the waters of a great lake. I asked them “why?” They say it is their right. They show me an empire of water that they command, yet the waters are without islands, and the waves grow higher and more dangerous. They looked to the rising waves, and appeared unconcerned. Are they foolish? Sixth Day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw a mountain and asked for its name. It called itself “Mud” and requested mine in return. I did not answer, but fled from its gaze. Behind the mountain was a hidden city and men who spoke in the language of the stones. They could not see or hear me. Seventh day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw a single fuzzy reed growing in a puddle. The reed wore a crown and laughed at my approach. “Look upon my mighty kingdom!” The land around him was desolate and empty, but still it seemed cheerful. “I have so much room to grow!” It repeated this over and over. Eighth day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw a cat purring upon a tall palm tree. It looked down on me, and asked for an ibis to eat. I caught one for it, and offered it before the cat, but instead of eating it the cat clawed at its throat until its blood covered the whole of the earth. The cat looked to me and said, “Do you have more?” Ninth day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw an old, rusted knife stuck in sandstone. Surrounding it were weeds baring tiny flags. An old man circles it, tugging at his beard thoughtfully. Slowly he transforms into a Jackal and runs up to sandstone, as he now knows what to do. Tenth day of the Khepfru Harvest: I saw five men with small eyes gather in a temple. They breathe in the wind, and blow out hot air. I ask them what their power is, and they answer “secrets.” The temple begins flooding but they continue their task while ignoring the rising waters. Dictated by the blessed Pharaoh Rashmut, recorded by royal scribe Khemritep. Special Rules: "Foundations upon Bones"- population may be expended for construction instead of money. 5 x gold cost = pop expended. Only for buildings Trade and Diplomacy completely dissallowed, several buildings replaced, +0.25% to all army upkeep thresholds --Tribute Depot: Provides 250 per conquered city or town --Labour District: Provides 3000, 1 per city --Slaver Quarters: Provides 750, one per 250,000 Extra Buildings: Exclusive to Conquered Cities --Temple of Life & Service: Reduces loyalty of a city by 1 (10,000) --Obelisk to the Gods: Provides 4000 (15,000) (I’m a brainlet and I forgot to keep the stats for 868. Trust me! I have what I say I have!) Resources: Population: 17,000 gold, Default: 10,000 gold, Slaver Districts: 25,000 Labour Districts: 12,000 Red Gold: 8,831,993 fleshy coins. Upkeep: 8875 gold. 55,125 spending gold 4375 in storage. Army Production: 9 Actions: TURN FOR 868 -36,000 gold towards 6000 T2 Regular Medjay Foot Soldiers, -20,000 gold and 4AP towards 2000 T3 Regular Archers. 875 gold sent to storage, total of 4375 gold in storage Ongoing Magical Research: (6) Invocation of Sekhmut: Ready 872, Grasp of Ip: Ready 870, New Magic Research: (6) REDACTED: SUpAh Seakrit!! Ongoing Tech Research: (3) Chariots: Ready 870 New Tech Research: Heavy Cavalry TURN FOR 869 -48,000 gold and 8AP towards 2000 T3 Veteran Heavy Infantry 7125 gold sent to storage, total of 11,500 gold in storage -A group of learned mean from the capital investigate the strange reeds found by the river Khepfru. -2000 Medjay Horsemen are sent north to scout the outskirts of Holy Nation territory. They are to pillage, and test the Holy Nation’s speed in responding to threats, and the general layout of the land. Maps must be made if Kemet is to punish these vile blasphemers!

Kemet “Let go of me, heathen! Unhand me at once! This is sacrilege! This is blasphemy!” Within the Arch-Pyramid of Nisu Nefer, a great number of priests gathered, each one sneering and bitterly laughing at the Outsider being dragged towards the pit. The room hosting the gathering was resplendent with colorful, hieroglyphic writing, while embossed colonnades stretched high towards the ceiling fading into void above the brazier’s light. At the very farthest end of the room, a tall figure sat motionless on a beautiful, golden throne. Wearing nothing but a loincloth and a tall, red-gold crown, he stared impassively at the struggling man. With a single motion of his hand the entire room fell silent and those dragging the prisoner halted to await their ruler’s command. Pharaoh Rashmut, the Wadjet King, and Eye of Kemet looked the disheveled figure over with the barest hint of disgust. “You insult the gods of Kemet with your presence, Outsider. Like those of your kin, you trespass upon forbidden ground cursed by Soth, and proclaim it holy. Your vile burial disturbs us, and thus it was cleansed along with your “pilgrims.” The artifacts that were placed within the profaned tomb are held by our Priests for examination, and likely destruction.” The envoy of the Holy Nation spat an unintelligible series of curses at Rashmut, struggling against his captor’s arms. His anger coaxed an amused smile from the Pharaoh, who continued to speak. “This day, you dared enter this city—one that has existed long before your ‘Creation Lord’ came to be—and had the temerity to insult our gods. You must now show grace, and ask their forgiveness. Kneel before me, their Eye, and I will grant you that grace.” The envoy stood silent, shaking with fury. Rashmut slowly stood from his chair and pointed directly at his feet. He repeated his command through clenched teeth with a coarse whisper. “Kneel before the gods!” The envoy’s silence was deafening, and Rashmut’s gaze turned wild as he exploded into a commanding roar. “KNEEL!” The priests erupted into chants demanding the envoy’s obedience. They stamped their staffs on the stone creating an ear-splitting cacophony that echoed throughout the Arch-Pyramid. The younger ones stomped their feet in anger, while the older ones burned holes on the envoys head with their fiery glare. “Never!” The envoy screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. “I will never kneel before false gods! I would sooner piss on their heads! I would defecate upon their temples! I would shatter every statue and erase them from history!! Blasphemous dogs! Heretics! Heathens!” The priests descended upon the envoy striking him with their staffs and screaming curses, but soon Rashmut raised his hand again, and the holy men fell silent. “You disrespect the gods, and you disrespect their lands. For this you will be punished.” He gently pointed towards the pit at the center of the room. “Cast him in. The asps will judge.” Two large men hauled the writhing and struggling envoy towards the pit as the mocking priests roared in delight. As he was dragged closer, the sound of hissing became audible. The envoy’s face quickly grew pale after his first look over the lip of the hole, and he started screaming pleas of mercy. His voice was drowned out by the priests hungry for retribution. As he was tossed into the pit the cheers of the priests drowned out his pitiful screams while hundreds of asps bit his extremities. He struggled briefly against the squall of venomous snakes but eventually his pained cries ebbed until the hall was silent. Save, of course, for the satisfied chattering of the priests who looked once more to Rashmut. The Pharaoh had taken to his throne once more, and spoke in loud, powerful tones. “The day before last, I looked upon the innards of a lamb, and its entrails fell in the pattern of prophecy. This has occurred before, and to my shame I thought nothing of it. The day after, I looked to the sky and the ibis flew not west to the waters, but north to the lands of the profligate. Once more, I thought it merely coincidence, and not a sign. Then I learned of the Outsiders who prayed in the most cursed, forbidden places that troubled me greatly. Finally, the one who trespassed and defied the gods came here to speak his poisonous lies. These are the signs that we have been awaiting.” The priests’ eyes widened and their mouths fell agape. Some dropped to their knees, muttering prayers. “Just this last night, I dreamt of a man with an Ibis’ head. He grasped a knife in his hand, and pointed towards a great fire. In its flames I saw a thousand lambs dancing before a great serpent, and with each beat of a drum, he swallowed one whole. This is prophecy. The Outsider comes to beguile and threaten us. This is the hand of Amunnis.” Rashmut inhaled, and roared to his priests. “Gather mace and shield, horse and armour. Raise a thousand chariots and bring forth the Medjay. The Outsider has threatened the realm of the gods.” “The time has come! All must kneel before the gods! All must kneel before Kemet!” Special Rules: -"Foundations upon Bones"- population may be expended for construction instead of money. 5 x gold cost = pop expended. (Only for buildings) -Trade and Diplomacy completely disallowed. -+0.25% to all army upkeep thresholds Buildings replaced: --Tribute Depot: Provides 250 per conquered city or town --Labour District: Provides 3000, 1 per city --Slaver Quarters: Provides 750, one per 250,000 Extra Buildings: Exclusive to Conquered Cities: --Temple of Life & Service: Reduces loyalty of a city by 1 (10,000) --Obelisk to the Gods: Provides 4000 (15,000) Resources: Population: 16,000 gold, Default: 10,000 gold, Slaver Districts: 25,000 Labour Districts: 12,000 Red Gold: 8,325,000 fleshy coins. Upkeep: -4000 gold. Total: 59,000 spending gold 2500 in storage. Actions: -26,000 gold towards 4 units of T2 regular Medjay horsemen. -20,000 gold towards 5 units of Medjay slingers. -12,000 gold towards 2 units of Medjay foot soldiers. 1000 gold saved, total of 3500 stored. On-Going Technological Research: -Chariots: Ready 870, -Heavy armour: Ready 868. On-Going Magical Research: -Ramus’ Weighing-of-the-Heart: Ready 868, -The Grasp of Ip: Ready 870, NEW Magical Research: -INVOCATION OF SEKHMUT: Sharpen’s the mind of affected scholars and improves the speed in which technology is researched.

Discord Name: Dudebro6969 Nation Name: Kemet Government Type: Triarchy (Three dudes co-ruling. Give me speshal colour in discord plz) Magic: Thaumaturgy (Scholar Magic) Spells: T1: Hand of Soth: Telekinesis. Throw stuff at other stuff. T1: Eye of Amunnis: Priests can foresee ambushes and traps. T2: Sekhmut’s Memorium: Priests can see into the past of objects/ruins/corpses. Leader: Wadjet Pharaoh Rashmut Places of Interest: The River of Khepfus: Stretching from the western mountains through the searing desert plains, the nutrient-rich waters allow the riverside farmers to grow bountiful crops with little effort. The waters teem with life, and much like the god that is the river’s namesake, the waters are considered holy for their fertility. The dry lake of Khepfra, and the abandoned city of Sothra Tut: Almost a millennia ago, there was a small lake mid-way through the Khepfus River. Said to be a punishment upon the city of Sothra Tut by the god Soth, the lake dried until it was only a winding river. After the people left the city its monuments slowly began to be overtaken by encroaching sands, leaving it half-buried. The place is considered cursed, and none tread there for fear of Soth’s wrath. The Capital of Nisu Nefer: The city said to have existed since the beginning of time. It was a city when the first words were written in the distant past, and it remains a city to this day. Thousands of years of grand architecture, massive temples, gold-tipped pyramids, and vast statues of Pharaohs aeons old are scattered among ancient streets. No Pharaoh ever leaves this world without adding to its magnificence. History: Venerate the Eye of Kemet, for the Gods would see the endless nation grow beyond its river! Kemet was a land of monumental architecture and monolithic traditions, both in the service of the nation’s many gods. It was a country cut off from the rest of the world by choice, preferring solitude and service to the gods rather than needless distractions that foreigners might bring. It was a nation so old that its written history stretched back thousands of years where it mingled with myth, and the Gods walked the banks of the River Khepfus. Each glory and disaster is still recorded upon the walls of vast temple complexes that surround the lake of Khepfra. Even the smallest, most ancient of temples are preserved so as not to insult their many disparate deities. For aeons, Kemet ignored the outside world with the expectation the outside world would do the same, but the Atemites changed that perception. For the first time in millennia, Kemet was conquered. Many of its greatest fortresses were razed to the ground, and its three Pharaohs were forced to submit to the will of Atem. Yet their conquest was ultimately a farce, as Kemet’s considerable distance from other civilisations made direct rule difficult. Instead, they sent governors to perform token rulership and extract tribute from the Kemetese. The Pharaohs continued their traditional roles while paying bitter lip-service to their governor. In time, Atem’s power weakened, and Kemet ousted the corrupt rulers as their empire crumbled. Yet Atem’s influence remained, and Kemet couldn’t ignore the outside world any longer. As long as there were outsiders, then Kemet’s traditions would not be safe. The Pharaohs raised armies along Atemite lines from the Niewet castes, and drew up plans for new fortresses and armories. The Outsiders would bow, or they would kneel before Kemetese spears. However the Wadjet Pharaoh (he who communes with the gods, or the ‘Eye of Kemet’) bade them to halt. A vision of a collapse was sent to him by the Gods. However, it was not disapproval that was gleaned from the vision, but a demand for patience and reverence. All talk of conquest was halted until the Wadjet witnessed another sign, and the freshly raised soldiers were sent back to their homes. Years have passed, and still no sign has been sent, but the Pharaohs wait eagerly for their time. Kemet is a nation that has existed before the advent of the written word. It has been conquered many times, yet each foreign ruler has been but a momentary transient upon the history of the unending nation. Even Atem for all its glories and splendor fell to time, yet still Kemet stands—unchanged and unmoved. Loyalty: 5 Magical Knowledge: 5 Technical Expertise: 3 Size: 10 Economy: 0 Sea-Faring: 0 Military: 7 Figures of Import: Wadjet Pharaoh Rashmut: Magical Ability 10, Leadership 2 The King of Temples, Lord of the Priests, and the man who speaks for the gods. It is he who discerns visions and signs of the gods that are apparent in all things. In such matters, the pattern of a bird’s flight is just as important as the innards of a lamb. The gods speak through such things, but the most powerful are the visions sent within dreams. These denote great things, and the Wadjet will do as the gods demand. Ujet Pharaoh Cofus: Leadership 6, Martial Skill 6 The King of Warriors, Lord of Spears, and the man who protects the lands. It is he who marshals the men for war, and leads them to glory against the outsiders. He is known to wade into battle himself, striking at foes with his mace among his chosen bodyguards. Niewet Pharaoh Nuutptra: Leadership 4, Charisma 4, Agility 4 The King of Commoners, Lord of Labour, and the man who organises the people and slaves. It is he who enables the great monuments to be built, and the many weapons to be forged. Without his influence and work, there would be no gold to gild the statues, and no stone to carve. He is the bedrock of Kemet, and one of its greatest assets. National Idea: Foundations upon Bones: Population may be expended instead of gold for construction. 3 x gold cost of building = population expended to build it. Furthermore, I would like to forgo any ability to trade with other nations and diplomacy outside of non-aggression pacts/peace agreements/declarations of war/demands for tribute in return for a number of unique buildings specifically for my nation. Replacing Trade Depot, Tribute Depot: Provides 250 gold per conquered city (One per city). Same price as Trade Depot. Replacing Commercial District, Labour District: Provides 3000 gold, one per city. Same price as Commercial District. Replacing Civilian Industry, Slave Quarters: Provides 750 gold, one per 250,000 people. Same price as Civilian Industry. Extra Buildings: Temple of Life and Service: Reduces chances for rebellions (may only be built in conquered cities, one per city) (10,000 gold) Obelisk to the Gods: Provides 5000 gold (may only be built in conquered cities, one per city) (15,000 gold) Unique Units: Another Unique Thing: All Medjay draw from their own manpower pool separate from the regular one, and cannot have veterancy purchased for them. All non-medjay units cost double to recruit and require twice the upkeep. Medjay Foot soldiers: Spear-and-shield light infantry. Are recruited in units of 1000 rather than 500, and (preferably, pretty please) have half the upkeep of regular light infantry. Medjay Horsemen: Spear-and-shield light cavalry. Are recruited in units of 1000 rather than 500, and (preferably, pretty please) have half the upkeep of regular light cavalry. Medjay Slingers: Sling-and-club light ranged troops. Are recruited in units of 1000 rather than 500 and (preferably, pretty please) have half the upkeep of regular slingers. Position on Map: Supreme’s Favourite colour is Huwhite. Like The huwhite man he is.

tierra roja shitpost Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Cities: 9000 pesos, Population: 14,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 88,000 pesos, Houses of Harmony: 8000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 28,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos, Trade Depots: 70,000 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, Cash from Vitraium sales: 20,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -31,000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 248,500 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 21ASP -Ground Forces Production: 20AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitramite Mines: 34 -Refined Vitarium: 39 (19 used (+5 from Emmerian Vitra Refineries/Mines) -Steel units: 48 (36 used) -(-10,000 pesos towards a trade depot in Reyes) -(-10,000 pesos towards a commercial District) -(-15,000 pesos towards 3 Commercial Districts in Reyes) -(-54,000 pesos and 18AP towards 6 regular armoured brigades) -(-60,000 pesos and 16ASP towards 2 battlecruisers) -(-23,000 pesos and 5ASP towards 1 heavy cruiser and 1 cruiser) -(-40,000 pesos towards 4 airshipyards) -(-30,000 pesos towards 4 heavy industry) 6500 goes to bank

tierra roja due to race no rp from me this year sorry but not really lol Too caliente for you, Cabron?: 25% bonus profit to trade and trade depots due to delicious spices. Economy 10: 25% bonus to trade profits. Dollarydoos: Capital of Zapta Villa: 10,000 pesos, Cities: 6000 pesos, Town: 1000 pesos, Population: 14,000 pesos, Civilian Industry: 87,000 pesos, Houses of Harmony: 8000 pesos, Commercial Districts: 28,000 pesos, Trade: 22,500 pesos, Trade Depots: 70,000 pesos, Puerto Riquez: 10,000 pesos, Cash from Vitraium sales: 20,000 pesos, Cash from Tourists: 15,000 pesos, Cash from Race Conclusion: 20,000 pesos, -Upkeep: -23,000 pesos, Total Spendaroonies: 288,500 pesos Production Assets: -Airship Production: 21ASP -Ground Forces Production: 20AP -Naval Production: 5NP -Vitarium Mines: 20 -Refined Vitarium: 20 (17 used (Half the fleet is currently mothballed)) -Steel units: 48 (36 used) -90,000 pesos towards 9 vitra mines and 9 vitra refineries -50,000 pesos sent to Emmeria to build 5 Vitra mines and 5 vitra refineries producing ten refined vitra in trade for the rent of two vitra nodes for ten years -5000 pesos for 1 commercial district. -11,000 pesos towards 11 freighters. -8000 pesos and 3AP towards 1 unit of T3 regular light infantry (motorised), -22,000 pesos and 8AP towards 2 units of regular howitzers (motorised), -20,000 pesos and 6AP towards 2 units of GRANDEZ CANNONEZ -14,000 pesos and 4AP towards 2 units of regular IMPROVED Tierra Rojan fighters -12,500 pesos towards upgrading town to city, -52,000 pesos and 16 ASP for 2 carriers, 4000 pesos go to el presidente. he seems really sketchy about this one, but no-one’s really sure why... researchhh project: totally not radar (-1RP) cbf to put stats in you got the race you dont need anything else this year