Dominion NES

Lady Gwen strode down the hall, feeling glad to be back in Vanheim again. She had an appointment in the audience chamber, but it was nothing important, just some whiny Vanir and some representatives from  (pronounced \Ch’XcJ}ﮘ{JcX`hC/) (the small town formerly know Uppsala, the one that elected an octopus leader) come to demand that all Midgard bow to the will of ﮘﮍﰏﮟﰒﰘؐؤئث٨و, their Octopus Overlord.

However, she found herself distracted by a mirror. She still couldn’t believe it. Here she was, looking not a day older then she was a century ago. Unconsciously, she found herself turn this way and that to see the effects of her Lord power.
Oh, quit being so vain, Mímir said, into her mind.
Gwen smiled, then responded. This from the person who has his hair and beard combed three times a day, she thought.
I need to! You still have you whole body, I ONLY have my hair and beard, he replied. I just want to be pretty, he ended in a plaintive, joking tone.

Gwen sighed and shook her head as she continued along the corridor. For the Wisest Person on the Planet© he sure tried hard to be funny. Her mood soured a moment latter though as she heard yet another misstep from behind her. Growling softly she turn on the ball of her foot, spinning to fact her follower, an ash wand slipping from her sleeve into her hand as she did, bringing it to point at the blur following her. She glared at it.

“That’s the problem with you Vanir, you’re you always think that just because someone can’t see you they can’t hear you either “ she said reprovingly as she slipped her wand away, and Erik the Ryð dropped the Illusions around himlself. “I presume my Fath-hrm, Lord Thorndai sent you?” she asked, correcting herself as she spoke.

Erik shifted awkwardly for a moment before answering. “W-w-well M’ Lady, Our Lord cares very much about you, a-a-and-“
“So he did send you.” Gwen interrupted him archly, amazed as always that someone with a title made from a pun like ryð could so easily intimidated in conversation. “Well, anyway, I guess you can follow me, but without the Illusions.”

Erik responded as Gwen turned and covered the last distance to the audience chambers doors, pausing in confusion at the sounds coming from within. Mustering her courage, she entered. And froze in shock
WHAT THE HEL!!! cried Mímir.
.A group of people, mainly attendants, vanir and some Marigon merchants were pressed to one side of the room, while another crowd danced in a rough circle, singing loudly.

“Here comes
Azathoth!
Here comes
Azathoth!
Right down
Azahoth lane!
Nyarlathotep
And all his shoggoths
Are driving you insane!”

Gwen and Erik froze at the door, Erik’s eyes wide and Gwen’s face twitching noticeably. At that moment one of the peasants ran over to them, screaming much to loudly.
“LADY GWEN!!! IT IS GOODYOU”VE COME HAVE YOU COME TO SUBMIT TO THE WILL OF ﮘﮍﰏﮟﰒﰘؐؤئث٨و,???” he yelled much to loud, somehow managing to pronounce the extra punctuation, as well as the name.
“Kerggth” Gwen managed to say. Before she could compose herself, the man bounded away, joining in the song. Gwen felt her face twitch more as she surveyed the chaos.
Well, looks like you have your work cut-out today, Mímir said unhelpfully.
Gwen just cursed.

These nomads, these barbaric wanderers, have lived their entire lives on the saddle. From when they can walk to the day they die they live with their horses. They can, with only their horse, live for over a week in the wilderness without any outside food or water, drinking it’s milk and blood as sustenance. These men grow up in an environment unlike anything a common peasant or fat noble can understand. Every day is a struggle to survive in a country too cold for any crops to grow or cattle to raise. They have developed a culture entirely different to ours, a culture in which only the competent survive. These men know intuitively by the age of 14 horsemanship skills that our hardened riders barely grasp after 20 years of constant warfare. They have forged clan bonds that have endured countless hardships. The Council wishes to waste this resource by assimilating them? I say that would be our greatest mistake since supporting the Pantocrator. We should cherish their culture as the single best source of cavalrymen in the known world since the Pantocrator’s rise.

Jen Lui
79 AF
Arguments in Council

Jonas, a toymaker and general tinkerer in Arshnoc’s capital, was having a bad day. For several months he has been obsessing over the idea of porcelain toys and has, for several months, failed miserably. The porcelain was simply too easy to shatter when it was thin enough to work in toys. He’s tried dozens of different recipes for the porcelain, buying many different kinds of clay and using dozens of different baking temperatures in the ovens. The minor enchantments he could afford to put on them were too weak and any sharp impact, such as being dropped, would break them instantly. His wife gave up over a month ago trying to pull him out of this and moved away. The repo men have been stopping by more and more often with increasingly open threats. He could stay afloat for another week at the most.

It was getting to be late and he was closing the shop for the night when a tall figure walked in. Jonas looked up tiredly “Can I help you?” He noted the tri-colored emblem on the stranger walked in and quickly added “Sir.” The figure glanced at the toy-covered walls disdainfully. “No, just looking.” Jonas shrugged and turned back to the porcelain soldier he was making. The figure looked curious when he saw this and stood silently watching while Jonas worked. The figure stood for several minutes while Jonas tried to force a gear that was slightly too large into its place. The gear flew from Jonas’ hands and shattered on the ground “Damn!” Jonas exclaimed.

While Jonas was on the floor and sweeping up the remnants, the figure said quietly, “Why do you make it so small? Wouldn’t a larger piece be stronger?”

“Yes, but any larger and I couldn’t sell them. Who wants a toy as tall as a chair?” Jonas said from the ground, voice getting annoyed.

“No, not as a toy…” The figure’s voice faded into contemplative silence. He suddenly spoke up, “Jonas, my name is Qui Jan, a wizard and priest of Stheran. How would you like to start life anew in his lordship’s service? All your debts will be paid and you will have more than enough funding for the rest of your life. If you wish we can return your children to you, even your wife.”

Jonas crouched in shock. “Seriously?” Jan nodded solemnly. “Y-yes then. Of course! When do we go?” Jan smiled “Now. Grab your research so far and come with me” Jonas ran around the store, grabbing scrolls and papers as he went. “Th-thank you sir!”