DominionNES2

I'll send orders within 4 hours of this message.
 
I apologize for late order LdiCesare, everyone else.
 
Return to Lake Manosarowar

Madhavali fumed in impotent rage. She had taken a chance, ignored what she had known was the will of the Pavitra Baccē. Though, in the true depths of her heart she had known her methods were not in alignment with the “Pūrṇatā kē li'ē rāstā” (Way of Perfection), she had believed in the goals. As the faith had spread, the teachings and the guidance had slipped bit by bit from the hands of her trusted brothers and sisters, the nāga, to the wretched soft-skins, the Lōga. The walkers did not realize what they owed to the nāga. Without the nāga there would be no stele to impart wisdom, for the stele were of Nāgapur, and the nāga were the guardians of that holy city. And now… now soft-skins were coming to Nāgapur in numbers greater than ever before. Not only did they seek guidance but they sought to guide, to take part in the holy rites that were sacred to the “Pūrṇatā kē li'ē rāstā”. It was not right. And so she had sought to return things to the old tradition.

The soft-skins knew that it was the nāga who won wars for them. It was not the soft human infantry in their tattered rags wielding crooked spears that stood against the Machaka spider knights and routed them; it had been her, her and her Golden Legion, the veterans of so many battles she could no longer count. She smiled at the thoughts of her victories. Even while at Fornalis, the soft-skin troops under the command of that pretender Lofar had run from Jack’s forces, she had led her nāga to yet another victory at Lingaram. Of course, she had known something like the attack by the Malitain might occur- though she could not have been sure. They had sent diplomats, diplomats she had considered arrogant and demanding. And she had seen an opportunity. She spurned their diplomats and inflamed their passion for violence. It had been easy really. War would keep the humans in line- they would realize that without the help of the naga they would soon perish. Her plan had worked too. Fornalis had been lost, the soft-skins had been slaughtered. The people of the farms and villages had sought protection and many villages had sent delegations to her officers asking that the Golden Legion return to protect them. Righteous traditions would be upheld.
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A Naga Warrior at the Battle of Loingaram

Then the Pavitra Baccē had intervened, had learned of her involvement through means she was still unsure of and had demanded an explanation. She could not deny him. She loved him, more than a messenger of the pantrokrater, she loved him like a lover. He had touched her, and only her; he called her his companion. She had borne him a child, a child like no other. And so she had told him everything. Her pain at seeing her people debased, her sense of betrayal in learning that the serpent kind where not in fact the favored of the Pavitra Baccē. He had told her to meditate, to return to Lake Manosarowar that she might find peace and calm.

And so she returned. The lake was always stiflingly hot and humid. It was a holy place. As far as she knew neither humans nor nāga came to this place. It was her holy sacred place. And it was her child’s cradle. Manosarowar was wide and its perimter was shallow, dotted with thousands if not millions of tiny islands. The jungle growing from these islands intertwined over the waters above her, forming a shadowy canopy that did little to cut the heat in the still air. Everywhere she looked there was life. Dragonflies flew in abundance, flitting over the water’s surface like tiny dancers. There were birds singing and monkeys chitterling. There were serpents of every kind, more than would have been possible in any other lands but here, in the lands of the scaled kind, she saw them everywhere, hanging in loops from branches, coiling lazily in the shallow waters, slithering in the underbrush. Her favorite were the bronze-scaled cobras, their majestic hoods warning all of their potent venom and she saw a few of these as well. Somewhere in these waters her child grew and thrived. Already he was much longer than her own nearly fifty-foot length. And he would grow much larger in these holy waters.

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Lake Manosarowar Still and Serene in its Jungle Heat

She slid into the waters without pausing at the edge, following the channels into the deeper waters. As soon as she was submerged, her fury and anger had subsided. These waters were perhaps magically serene, or perhaps they only brought her serenity from the associations she made with the place, but regardless, she found herself suddenly at peace. She remembered that the Pantokrater had been fond of this place, had found a beautiful singular water lotus and breathed into it divine love and creation and caused it to rise as a man, the sacred child, Pavitra Baccē. His being was inspired by these holy serene waters. She had made him protector and perfector of her creation; perhaps she had already known the sacrifice that would be asked of her when she did.

She called to her son, remembering how in her last visit she had been astounded by his sudden appearance. She had thought herself alone in the sacred waters and suddenly felt his mighty strength and long lengths of corded muscle moving beneath her in the waters. She had not realized how strong he had grown and had at first been fearful. Then joyful. She called to him and he answered. She felt him in the deep waters. The swam towards one another and soon their tails were coiled around one another in tight bonds of affection and protection that only the nāga knew. He was like his parents, with four long clawed limbs and like his mother he had the face of a serpent, but his bulk was much greater and his scales were blue and white, patterned not unlike the gentle skin of his father. He spoke in her mind, telling her of innocent games he played with the birds and serpents while she had been spilling the blood of the apostates and infidels. She could not help but to contrast his innocence with her own blood-stained hands and she felt a terrible guilt at her attempts to deceive the priesthood and begin a war. She knew now why the Pavitra Baccē had asked her to come her. He knew what wisdom she would find in these gentle waters.

She spent the afternoon with her son and when he swam away to play and enjoy his youthful innocence she gave her blessing and climbed a tall tree, looping her tail amongst its branches that she might sun herself and feel the warmth of the sun. She closed her eyes and thought of her lover, finding herself growing excited at the thought. Remembering his touch upon her scales. His voice in her ears, never more than a gentle whisper. His scent upon her forked tongue. She opened her eyes, blinking against the sun and she saw him there. Blue skin, white eyes, bearing neither hair nor scales but only his soft skin. He was naked but for a loincloth and a small, strangely threatening knife at his waste- his armor discarded in this safe haven. She breathed in his scent, flickering her tongue and he felt so real.

He spoke, softly, and her calm began to fade, “You have done wrong. You knew better, were my chosen one but you grew jealous and vain, envious of the lōga. You cost us many lives, many souls were sent to the next life without the opportunity to fulfill their paths in this life.”

She sat up, at attention, blinking rapidly, realizing that this was no manifestation brought on by the heat and her memories but the true messenger of the pantokratorer, here now, before her. She began to cry and soon was sobbing, professing her love and her loyalty, her unconditional devotion. Between heaving sobs, she told him of her regret, begged his forgiveness, offered herself to him, begged him to absolve her… if only he would.

He smiled at her and she knew that in his heart he loved her as much as she did him. But there was something in his eyes, a sort of hard sadness she was not used to. She grew fearful of that look. Uncertain of its meaning. For many long moments he said nothing and her sobbing faded, tears drying on hers soft facial scales. Around them the dragonflies and birds continued their dance. The monkeys chattered and howled. But the snakes knew and they watched them with unblinking reptilian eyes- knowing their master when they saw him.

Slowly he drew the knife and gave it to her, “Absolve yourself. Sacrifice your life that you might show your dedication to the “Pūrṇatā kē li'ē rāstā” and end this strife with the lōga.”

She took a deep breath and took the knife. His fingers grazed against hers for a moment and she felt the electric thrill of his touch, shivering with the power of it, the memory of it despite the situation. She looked down at the knife. It handle was mahogany, beautifully carved in the likeness of a snake rising to strike, deeply colored with reds, russets and ochre from the dyes of Logapur. The blade was finely crafted; she ran her finger along its edge and knew it would not be difficult to open her entrails with this blade.

She steadied herself, breathing in three times quickly to give herself courage for what she had to do.

One.

She raised the knife high, gripping it in both hands. She did not look at her lover who asked this of her.

Two.

Suddenly she felt calm.

Three.

She felt the tip of the blade pierce her scales, but that was all. There was a hand upon hers, a strength she knew so well, an electric tingle that coursed through her spine all the way to the tip of her long tail far below them. She looked up at the Pavitra Baccē. It was his turn to cry. Tears were streaming down his face, “You are stronger than I am. I cannot lose you. We’ll find another way. Together.”

She fell against him, sobbing in turn and as he stroked her cobra’s hood, she felt his heart beating frantically in his chest, his breath quickened with the fear he had felt at losing her. She knew that her return to the priesthood, the mending of nāga and lōga would be difficult, terrible even. That her sin might never be washed away. But she was not afraid- perhaps the division had been there too long. There was a new way coming to the Bhumi, one where nāga and lōga would be brothers, equals.
 
UPDATE EIGHT
Cities change hand
(with Chaos dwarves inside)


Spoiler :
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Northeast of Falaxan, the city of Myrbeth is cursed with horrible weather. Continuous rain, hail, cold winds, all contribute to deteriorate the region. Harvests are bad, crops rot and the morale of Myrbethese is sapped by the unnatural weather. When Falaxan armies come to invade once again, the defenders are already in poor psychological and physical condition, and they can't resist king Hector's superior forces for very long.
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A huge Falaxan army invades Myrbeth

Taernsvwyn's colony of Winterheim got strongly invested into. The road network connecting it to Taernheim is completed. Mines are built and heavily exploited, city walls have been erected around the new city.

Near Myrde, the frost-giant controlled city of Thrymr is hit by a meteor that falls from the sly, killing half the population in the region and turning the place in a smoking hell. Following this, the population starts starving, and a typhus epidemic strikes, spreading and killing even more people.
Several of the giants leading the city start blaming their ruler for his bad decisions. They say that, if he had worshipped Fùxaxxatlìnnùnìnùtlectlìbrrrìxxatl, this catastrophe would have been averted. The jarl laughs at his men when they utter such nonsense. Surely they are joking. Or have they lost their mind? They might well have lost their minds indeed. Several giants turn against their leader, and a struggle for the control of Thrymr ensues between loyalist giants and Myrde-worshipping giants.
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Frost giants fighting each other.
In the end, the jarl is defeated by the worshippers of the dead squid, who establish the rule of Myrde over Thrymr once again.

In Uthrarthe, flying serpents are sighted moving from the west. The inhabitants get deeply involved in quarrels and squabbles as to what this means and whether a giant net should be built to try and catch the beasts, even long after the flight has gone. The typhus from Thrymr spread to Uthrarthe, causing several deaths in the former Myrde capital. In addition to this disease, the atmosphere in the north of Myrde becomes heavy with moisture, and many people fall ill to the disease that already struck the human city of Ushrak before C'tis invaded it. Of course, this wouldn't be Myrde if nothing sillier happened at the same time. Fatrasie, from her southern city of Tlanetzutl, has been busy trying to arrange the situation of the land. She says she had a vision where people would have more Fugthar'thugnaxtloxl if they could fly. Noone understands what this means, but after she said this, wings started growing here and there in the country. Some men grew bird wings. A woman in Myrde now has huge bat-like wings and spends her time flying over the city laughing maniacally. Several goats have butterfly wings which they try to ignore. A house even grew a huge stone and glass wing shaped like an insect's. The thing moved, killing an unfortunate passer-by, until it eventually broke and fell to the ground. The house remains in place, with some cracks in its wall and some stones and glass shards in the street.

Around Lagash, the city newly controlled by C'tis, goblins mounted on wolves attack and raid the farmers. They burn some houses and ravage some fields before the C'tis army repels them.
The army of C'tis in Lagash, led by king Ssussaapi, marches on Myrde. Meanwhile, Skenaton the mummified god takes his own troops to move south and take control of all the land up to Uthrarthe. While Skenaton faces little or no resistance, Ssussaapi has to fight hordes of madmen when he tries to invade the city of Myrde.
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C'tis undead warriors slaughter Myrde madmen, impervious to their maddening mind blasts.
Ssussaapi leads his troops victoriously into Myrde, easily routing his opponents, while Skenaton takes over the rest of the country. Only the western reaches of Myrde remain independant, but the lack of organisation of the country doesn't bode well for the future.

In northern Darkswamp, a huge serpent is seen in the sea. Some believe at first that the Bog Serpent is back, but they soon realise their mistake. The creature attacks fisheries and capsizes boats to swallow the men on board. After terrorising the locals for a month or two, the monster moves away. In Lasanak, a pool is erected, the muddy waters of which allow to see whoever is viewing a similar pool constructed in Pythia. These muddy pools work as a link between the northern and southern parts of the country.
In Pythia, Sakarlaisk creates himself an eye patch and summons spiders to test his magic powers. He seems satisfied that his abilities haven't been adversely hurt by his sojourn among the dead.
In the northern reaches of Darkswamp, the military have started using petrified bog wood to build themselves armors. Their smithes also forge blades much longer than the traditional daggers, allowing the use of armored heavy infantry.

In Ulm city of Argad, a careful administrator raises a militia to help fight unexpected chaos dangers.
New mines are built in Ulm and Moralfar. More people arrive in Moralfar, but at the same time people disappear regularly in the city, and the inhabitants now fear to get out at night.
The Hammerer orders soldiers to come with him and march upon Urgad. He arrests the druids and executes all of themm before they can spread their silly cult of nature-love or whatever it was. Real ulmites worship cold steel, not flowers, and the blood of the druids proves an effective reminder of what the true path is.

In Marignon, an old man comes see the prophet of Erynini. He offers the Burned Man a wolfskin. The old man explains that, when he was younger, he used to wear this skin, that allowed him to take the shape of a wolf. Now that he has converted to the new faith, he wants to help the Pyre and gives this magic skin. Thanks to the Burned Man, the harvests around Marignon are exceptionally good this year. This increases the confidence of Marignon in the power of the Eternal Pyre.

In Drakalor, Firland's god-king makes displays of his magical skills and power, and he convinces several, mostly influential people, that he is the being best fit to replace the Pantocrator as protector of the World from Chaos. He then marches his army south in order to conquer that free city on the border of the inner sea known as the Tear. The city is poorly defended, and the army strong and backed by a wizard. It doesn't take long for the defenders to surrender. Similarly, High priestess Burner marches her army east to the hill city of Darayush, and the large army of Firland defeats the defenders with ease, enlarging the Phoenix's kingdom considerably.

In Mallitain, an annoying leprechaun was captured by a simple cobbler of Ulanbar. The cobbler who sold him to Cassiopeia for a pound of gold. When persuaded with burning iron, the leprechaun revealed the location of his treasure trove. 10 gold were found underneath a dung heap.
An earthquake struck in Vanas, killing several persons, and in particular a lot of miners who got stuck in their mine when the tunnels collapsed.

In Ermor, the sanitary situation in Eldergate is critical. Ermor merchants go far and wide and buy food at sometimes ridiculously high prices. They manage to avoid the worst early in the year and, although food is severly lacking, the situation remains somewhat under control in the capital of the Empire. The situation is problematic, however. Ermor wizards raise skeletons to help work the fields. This is quite useless, since the issue is not plowing the fields, but having fields to plow and accessing them. Fields north of the river are worked as much as possible, but there's only so much an acre of land can provide. Access to other fields is in fact very problematic, as Arcoscephale chariotteers run through the countryside, shooting arrows at those mad enough not to run away when they spot them. Arcoscephale elephants are also allowed to stampede the fields and they devour all they can, even in areas that are not firmly controlled by Arcoscephale. Most merchants coming from Boeuf are arrested and their food confiscated by Arcoscephale soldiers. Eldergate only manages to get access to food from the north, through the river and the roads leading to it. This proves insufficient. People starve in Eldergate and demand that the army help get rid of the raiders. Seshmek and the headless Pontifex remain in the city however, hiding behind the walls. This enrages the population who complains their leaders let them starve. Faith falters in Eldergate as thousands die while elephants stampede their fields right under their nose.
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Arcoscephale war elephants ravage the countryside south and east of Eldergate.


Ermor doesn't let Arcoscephale ravage their land without reacting however. Concluding a peace with Marverni, Samael relinquishes Carnutes, retrieves Helven and frees Redonum. Once the negotiations with Vercingetorix are over, she moves south, bringing her whole army with her toward the city of Mousson and its bridge over the river which bars the road south toward Arcoscephale. When the army reaches the river, Mousson has been ordered to let Ermor troops pass through their city, give them food and supplies, or be eradicated. They are also forbidden to warn their southern neighbours of the Ermor army movement. At first, Mousson agrees because they can't hope to face the superior forces of Ermor. The army is impressive and they are not their target after all. It would cost the city quite a lot to supply the army, but if Ermor pays for it, things should go well.
Things never go well, unfortunately.
Some Ermor soldiers have been waging war for a while. Some seem to believe they should keep fighting, and take all those they meet on their path. Not all soldiers are worshippers of Samael it appears. They follow Her because she is the leader of their nation, but some of them apparently believe the god of war taht is also worshipped in Arcoscephale and Alifat is the deity who shows the right path. They refuse to pay for food from Mousson, and this leads to quarrels and fights. Samael intervenes, and she has no choice but to put the blame on her own soldiers. The Mousson king demands paiment for the passage of Ermor troops, and apologies. The situation is tense. Mousson is too weak to stand against Ermor, and the king knows it. His people, however, are revolted by the way Ermor legions treat them. The deaths of many Moussonese at night are blamed upon Ermor troops, and the king obviously tries to appease both Ermor and his people in order to avoid either a fight with Ermor or being replaced by another noble who would then lead his city to a lost war. After some tractations, it is agreed that Ermor troops will have to go around the city. They are not allowed to use the bridge, but have to go through boats to cross the river. This takes a lot of time and word of the whole operation naturally spreads as fast as a wildfire across the countryside up to Arcoscephale. There, the guard towers are lighted, and signals are sent to the east, ordering the army to march back home.
General Pergos leaves his chariots and elephants near Eldergate, where they keep ravaging the countryside, but he brings his infantry back home. The march home is made difficult by several incidents. There are several cases of food poisoning. Bandits even dare attack a camp one night, forcing the soldiers to be more careful even in their own land. When Pergos reaches Byzantia, the city is in a perilous situation. Ermor armies have come from Mousson and crossed the river downstream Byzantia, and started besieging the city. The city walls hold however, and the siege mustn't have started for very long when Pergoss reaches them. Ermor troops are entrenched, their own defenses built so they can't be easily attacked from the outside. Pergos ponders what to do for a while and, one morning, he orders his troops to fan out widely around the besiegers. He says word has been sent to Cephalos horsemen about the situation, and they are right now riding on the north bank of the river, cutting all supply lines for the Ermor army. The Arcoscephale infantry is now preventing foraging on the south bank. Byzantia defenders will now have more supplies than the Ermor army around it.
Pergos sends word to Ermor:
Your army is stuck between the anvil and the hammer. Strong as you may be, you can't figth starvation. your capital is dying of lack of food, and your army here will die too if you keep trying to take down the walls of Byzantia. Should you attack us in the open, the militia will strike at your back. We learnt that you finally accepted to relinquish Redonum. This was the reason why we entered war. We helped Marverni protect the independence of Redonum. Now that this is achieved, we see no reason to keep fighting. We suggest that you march your army home. We will order our troops near Eldergate to let food caravans reach you and stop destroying your fields and we will maintain the current borders, although we are willing to allow you access to some of the fields south of Eldergate.
This offer is considered an insult by many Ermor legionaires, who urge Samael to crush the Arcoscephale army immediately. Apparently, Arcoscephale soldiers are also eager to fight, and word has it that generals Pergos and Skiotes disagree on this topic. Anyway, the Arcoscephale general doesn't want to force the engagement. Samael and her army are entrenched and trying to sap the walls. The situation around Byzantia is tense, and may erupt soon but for the moment the volcano is only rumbling and only Samael knows whether it will erupt in a decisive battle or not.

Heldenthal authorities concentrate on Oberklingenbach, converting most of those who were "abused" by Taurus and return them to the worshhip of Walaruna.

Boeuf authorities spend money on temples and ceremonies to celebrate the grandeur of Taurus across the realm. First-son and Taurus move across the country, and wherever they go, fields bloom, females of all races give birth to many children and fertility rises.
When Taurus first hears about his merchants' wares being confiscated by Arcoscephale troops, his blood starts boiling and harsh words are uttered against the men of the west. Soon, however, much more important matters arise that require the god-king's attention.
The southern city of Veau sends runners to the capital with dire warnings: A huge army has come from the chaos, and laid siege to the city. The besiegers are dwarves, and they demand that the 'Dvala' minotaurs are hiding in Myrvo be given back to them. After some investigation, Taurus realises that the crafter who came from Myrde and established herself in Myrvo is in fact a dwarven queen of some kind, and her people want her back. She adamantly refuses to be "enslaved", as she says. This infuriates the dwarven general Oten, whose army easily dig a way under Veau's walls and take the city with hardly any loss. Boeuf is now under attack from the dwarves of Dvalan, and only the surrendering of the Dvala can prevent war. The soldiers are fearsome. They are clad in heavy armor, carry crossbows, axes and hammers, and some of them ride huge boars.
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Dwarves learning Boeuf's refusal to surrender the Dvala.

Bhumi shrines are built throughout the nation, mostly in the old Machaka lands, to teach the Way of Perfection to the locals. Naga priests travel to these place to explain the religion of the Pavitra Bacce to the inhabitants.
The Pavitra Bacce and Lofar march on Fornalis, which is relinquished peacefully by Mallitain. The giant slayer has already left the city and reached Massad when Lofar comes back to his beloved gardens. Jack is busy organising his troops and preparing them for their next march in Massad when one night something enters his room. Jack slept securely in his capital when he was awoken by an unexpected breeze. A large blade hissed and struck Jack's bed, leaving him barely the time to roll down and avoid being cut in two. He dives, retrieves the dirk on the low table, and uses it to deflect a new swipe from the blade. Something is attacking him in the dark. A somber figure, shrouded in shadows, only its arm visible, wielding a sword whose blade shines like the moon. The dagger is a mere toy against such an opponent, and Jack can't reach his claymore. He therefore risks all in one daring move: Throwing his weapon at his opponent, he jumps through the window. He crashes through the glass, shouting, and falls. Rolling on the soil two floors lower, he is only slightly bruised. Kissing his lucky pendant, Jack shouts and calls the guard. Soon, armed soldiers enter his room. They find Jack's dagger lying on the floor, coated in a viscous liquid that would be blood if blood was black. No trace is left of the attacker. The city is searched, but nothing, noone is found.
Jack orders the guard doubled in case the mysterious assassin would come back, but he decides not to let himself be intimidated. He therefore decides to move on with his plan and the preparation of his troops.
Jack leads his soldiers to the city of Avallon, whose walls are manned by longbowmen and defended by knights and elite soldiers. He demands that the city surrenders, but the knights refuse. Mallitain besieges the city and, when a wall is breached, they attack. However, the defenders hold fast, and this first assault is costly for Mallitain. Jack is seriously hurt and, with their leader prone, the attackers retreat. The defenders try to plug the holes in their walls and build up makeshift barricades to repel the invaders but the siege continues and, as soon as Jack is fit again, he orders a new assault. The barricades are shattered by catapults, and Mallitain troops attack once more.
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Mallitain troops attacking Avallon walls for the second time.
Eventually, the defenders succumb to the superior numbers of Mallitain soldiers, but the battles have been extremely deadly on both sides. As Jack enters the city triumphantly, an old woman hurls something in his direction, shouting a curse. She is arrested and brought to Jack, while the thing she threw is picked up: It is the head of a baby. The woman repeats her curse:
Curse you, Jack the giant slayer. You killed my daughter, so I killed her daughter that she may be avenged. May she bring you bad luck. May your wounds never heal. May your loved ones perish and falter. May your children never reach old age...
She is silenced before she can continue. The pain in Jack's shoulder, where an arrow bit him, suddenly awakens, biting him as he stands victorious in the city of Avallon.
 
Stats will be sent soonish.

It would be nice if I could get order by June 13th 23:00GMT.
Warning: I'll be internet-less this week-end.
 
spaceman98, tell me if you received your stats, I'm afraid the server got bogus when I sent them and I wouldn't want to clutter your PMbox.
 
I received no Stats.
 
The bones lay several leagues north of the Darkswamp. Sakarlisk was here on a mission to remove a pesky sea snake that was pillaging shipping on the peat sea, so called for the brown color of its coasts, a result of peat being washed there from the swamp. But first, he had been instructed to come here. When his master made the order, he seemed, saddened. Sakarlisk had never seen the serpent show any true emotion, so this surprised him greatly. Now he stood here. From a flare of green gas, the form of the bog serpent could be seen, watching. Bellow him were the bones of some great creature, a crocodile.

"From the darkland far Wesssssssssssst of here, I came, but not alone. Thissss creature was my brother and an important part of the plan. Hisssss lossssss wassssss asssssssss horrible luck asssss finding your mud puddle wasssssss good fortune. For remember, the sssswamp in which you live is a mud puddle in comparisssssson to the great quagmire from which I came. Now, we can preform the ritual to bring him back. It worked on you, sssssssso it will work on my brother and together, we can complete the next part of the plan. It all goesssss assssssssss I wissssssssh."
 
Āvāza and the Rakhsana

Āvāza was visiting Lofar in the High Temple gardens of Fornalis. Once they had been called the royal palace gardens and for a brief three months they had been called the Mallitain garrison gardens but now they were the sanctuary to local high-ranking priests. First amongst these was Lofar who was still called King by many but who amongst his fellow priests was known as Āsthā kā rakṣaka (defender of the faithful), a title shared by few, mostly those who had bled and suffered in the face of the unbelievers and who had redeemed a people from apostasy or heresy. His return to Fornalis had been mixed. The grand stele remained and so too did many of the faithful but there were murmers of discontent amongst the population. Lofar had been bested by the Mallitain and they would not easily forget that. Once they had felt secure but twice in the last four years their city had been besieged and twice it had exchanged hands through Bhumi-Mallitain diplomacy. There was a lot of work for Lofar to do to reassure his people and convince them of their safety. But that woud have to wait. For now he was simply glad to return to his gardens. Today, dressed in simple undyed robes indicative of his vows, he quietly savored a plump red strawberry as he listened to his friend speak.

The nāga did not bother assuming his human-like form for the Āsthā kā rakṣaka anymore. Lofar knew Āvāza regardless of if he walked on two legs or slithered on serpentine tail and knew that for Āvāza, the serpentine form was more comfortable, especially in the humidity and heat that had come to the gardens. The two were saying goodbye, for Āvāza was the priesthood’s chief diplomat and he was being dispatched to make contact with the king of a hidden jungle city Rakshi, a rakshasa by the name of Ravana.

The rakshana were not well known to the Bhumi. The stele made remarkably little reference to them. What the priests had been able to discern was that they were humanoid creatures with the heads of tigers and an innate skill in manipulating chaos. The stele did not refer to them as hostile or friendly but they were often referred to in reference to the Gandharva which some whispered had once inhabited Nagāpur before it had become an overgrown ruin. Deep in the ruins one young nāga had even found a scroll depicting the creatures.

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A rakshana depicted in an ancient scroll from the ruins of Nāgapur

The two embraced, Lofar teasing the carnivorous Āvāza that he should try the delicious strawberry, something he did repeatedly and which, despite not being funny to anyone else, was somehow a source of amusement for the fast friends. And with that Āvāza secured his falchion and left the garden.

***​

Āvāza travelled through farming canals and rivers; swimming was much faster for most nāga and it allowed him to regulate his body temperature with a greater degree of control. His entourage was small and consisted of a small number of priests and bodyguards, all also nāga. They had reached the western-most reaches of the Bhumi lands. The indigo and cotton plantations were behind them now and only the occasional small village, subsiding on rice and fish farming remained of their people. A scout rendezvoused with them; she had travelled through these regions not too long ago and knew the river better than almost anyone. She had reported that the river joined with another flowing from the south and continued north. For much of their travels the river was bordered by thick jungles and Āvāza, could feel the eyes of serpents within these jungles, giving him reassurance of the divinity of the Pavitra Baccē but as they continued westwards the jungles grew thinner then finally opened up to high-grass plains. Now he was truly far from home. He did not feel the Pavitra Baccē’s love here and the serpents he felt were few, small, and stupid.

The plains are sweltering in their heat and much drier than their humid homelands. The nāga are less at ease here and they constantly scan the horizon with their eyes and taste the air with their forked tongues. Occasionally they see signs of others, humans, and they take to their two-legged forms, walking along the river’s edge when they suspect they might encounter anyone. The meet some of the local people and their tongue is not too different that they cannot speak with them. They are from a place called Rinzen and like the rakshana are led by a king. They speak briefly of the ”Pūrṇatā kē li'ē rāstā” (Way of Perfection) but these men and women do not know of the heavy burden of the Pavitra Baccē, his responsibility to the Pantokrater. Āvāza pities them and wishes he could stay with them and teach them to strive in the path to perfection but knows he must continue his journey instead.


They arrive at the great intersection of the rivers. There are more people south, even a great city that suffers under a curse. The scout claims there is a high mountain peak south of them, rising from the plains lonely and majestic in its singularity. But the morning is overcast and there is fog burning off the ground and so Āvāza sees nothing. The continue north and the scorching dry wind of the plains begins to give way once more to the familiar humidity and stillness of the thick jungles. The priests reach out with probing tendrils of divine love and once again they find many snakes though these too are too distant from the Pavitra Baccē and are small dumb creatures unlike the majestic cobras and constrictors of the homelands.

They travel north for many more days, stopping only to hunt, rest or pray and in the mid-afternoon of their seventieth day of travel, in thick jungles somehow so different from those of their home, they finally catch a glimpse of the great jungle city of the rakshana.

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Rakshi rises from the jungle.

Āvāza unconsciously reaches for the scroll that bears the message of the high council, patting it to reassure himself that it too made it all the way to this strange and distant land.

Āvāza’s scroll said:
King Ravana of Rakshi,

Greetings from the east and the Bhumi people. We are a people of piety, patience and sufferance. We serve the Pantokrator though she is no longer with us. We strive to perfect her creation, to continue her work and honor her sacrifice.

We seek to know more of your people and if you are willing, to share with your our faith, that you too might share in its wisdom. We also seek to share goods and to trade. If you are wiling, we will send honest merchants and traders to your land and establish a small trading post south of Rakshi to facilitate cooperation between us.

We eagerly await your response and have empowered the diplomat Āvāza to negotiate and speak on our behalf.


The High Priests Council,
Logāpur
 
1) i think orders were due yesterday people. hopefully you all got them in on time (unlike me for last turn).

2) @LDi: Can i get a response from King Ravana?
 
No. Orders are due tonight. I messed up the wednesday/13/14 thing once again.
Order deadline: Wednesday June 13 23h00min00s GMT
should be
Order deadline: Wednesday June 14 23h00min00s GMT

Gem Hound, you can take a bit more time since you just came back and had little time to get back into action, but I'd need orders by Friday evening GMT if possible.
 
From Ravana of Rakshi
To the Bhumi people


Āvāza, we have never been slaves of the Pantocrator. We need not fear Chaos and don't try to tame it for we are part of it and change with it when we have to. Her work and sacrifice are meaningless to us.
Those who are strong enough to ride the waves of chaos can live freely without having to kill all the magic and beauty it bears in the way your dead goddess did.
If your faith is one of worshipping a martyr that thought weaklings need to be protected from the grace of chaos, that thought that destroying magic and change to foster a realm both baren and still, then we don't need your faith.
 
OOC: Interesting.

To Ravana of Rakshi

Will you allow us to trade with your people? May our merchants visit your lands?
 
Adjusting as an Intern... Orders will come late.
 
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