LINESII- Into the Darkness- Part II

But if you made it a different color its more like a completely different nation than an autonomious state. It would confuse new and old players alike.
 
A thousand campfires lit even the clouds above; the trees were awash in firelight–the Great Council was meeting once more. Tomorrow, at least. Tonight, the women and of the Merhai would sit around a thousand campfires, catching up with friends made last year in other clans, finding out the latest rumors, and of course, discussing the decisions to be made tomorrow in the great white tent that stood starkly above the rest of the encampment on a high hill.

Nyara left her own tent that night, to wander through the encampment of one of the greatest gatherings of the Merhai in ages. She had heard news come out of the south. The armies of the Merhai were to return home from their great victory over the Iron Faced Empire, and the people were abounding with talk of what would happen now that the Merhai had vanquished the most fearsome foe that they had ever faced.

The thought of those armies returning chilled her to the bone. She had been a newborn when her father had left, and now, eighteen years later, she was to see him once again. This is supposed to make me happy. Delighted, to see my father. But I’m not. The world demanded that she instantly open up a place in her heart for a person who she knew she should love, but barely knew. Not that she was particularly sentimental, but the idea of her father returning home was... terrifying, to say the least.

The night was alive with dancers and singers, horns of music and horns of ale, but Nyara was interested in none of that; she turned down invitations to dance around the campfire from drunk young men; she declined offered ale that the same men pressed upon her, likely in the hopes that she’d drink enough to accept their invitations to dance.

She pressed grimly forward, until she was near the center of the encampment, where it was quieter, with a more regal aura, and found the small white tent almost next to the Great Hall, which was still being erected by a few builders even this late in the night. A thin trail of smoke was wisping through the hole in the top of the little hut. So he was awake, at least. Nyara found the door, and half ducked through it.

“May I enter?”

“Nyara? Of course.” The voice was far weaker than she had imagined.

She pushed through, and left the leather flap swinging behind her.

An old fox lay pale and dying upon the snow white bed that sat next to a pile of glowing ashes. His clouded grey eyes alighted on her, and he smiled tiredly.

“Nyara, my sweet granddaughter. Sit, if you would please.”

“Your fire has almost gone out.” The air was chilly, too. She set to gathering a few pieces of split wood from a haphazard pile in a corner of the room, and glanced at Kahir’s bed. The furs had not been kept in weeks. A single cup of cold water lay beside his bed, and a jumble of books looked tossed at the side of his bed. “Father, who has been taking care of you?”

He chuckled softly. “What with the Great Council about to happen, I do believe they forgot me entirely. Me, my child, I am the one taking care of me.”

She gritted her teeth, and placed the wood on the fire.

“It’s all right. I am not starving, nor am I dying. Well, the latter, maybe. But at least I am not starving.”

“Grandfather, come to my tent. We have many of the clan there, enough to take care of you. The fox should not die alone; come live with your kin.” She knelt and took up a blackened wooden stick, stirring the fire a little. The bark on one of the lumps of wood caught, and a small flickering flame leapt upwards.

He sighed. “Alas, child, I would love to take you up on the offer, but it’s far too late already. I am dying, and there is little any mortal man can do about that. Living to the age of ninety and... oh, however many years I lived to, that is good enough for any mortal, and it is good enough for me.”

She swore, shoving the stick into the fire so hard that she broke it. “Come with me anyway, then. You do not deserve to die alone.”

“Perhaps I shall come with you... However... The journey to the tent of the Great Council is long from yours. I would not like to go all the way there, only to go all the way back again.”

She found another stick, and stirred the fire once more.“Why in the name of the gods would you be going to the Great Council?” A log caught.

“Oh, I may be old, but I still have a few things to say.”

“The last time you had something to say, you embroiled us in a massive war.” Satisfied with the fire, she found a seat on the hard dirt of the floor.

“That’s right.”

“Are you planning the same thing again?” She poked the fire again, to give the bottom some air.

“I don’t see why that would be a bad thing even if I were.”

“Do remind me, what happened the last time you started this incessant plotting?”

He chuckled. “Young minds simply don’t remember the past. Of course, you were not even weaned when we began the war, so I suppose you’re forgiven...” He reached blindly for the cup that sat beside him, and sipped. “Why, we brought down a massive steppe empire, doubled our territory size, and brought ourselves into the world stage.” He blinked innocently at her.

“And lost thousands of men in that bloody war.”

“That’s all you focus upon? I had hoped that bringing down the massive steppe empire would have counted rather higher in your favor.” He closed his eyes again.

She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Father, tell me true. Do you intend to wage war once again?”

“Not in a literal sense. Not against any foe that we might fear.”

“Which way are you intending our people to go?”

“Strictly speaking, the majority of them won’t go anywhere. I only intend to extend our territorial boundaries.”

“You’re dancing around the issue.”

“So I am. You’ll know soon enough. Are you not a member of the Great Council yourself? Yes, so you will hear me present it to the Great Council. I see no need for you to worry yourself before then. If you wish to help me, send me a servant or two; I’m afraid I’ll need to be helped into that tent over there.”

“Grandfather,” she said, crossly. “You cannot–”

“–I can. I am a man of the Merhai, and I shall go where I please. What do you have to say to that?”

“I say it is madness. You’re far too weak to go speaking in front of the Council, and they will bombard you with questions until you drop dead. And if you drop dead in the tent...”

“...then someone will need to clean up my body and burn me a funeral pyre,” he said. “I do not fear death, and our people need guidance.”

“It is not your place–”

“It is.”

“Grandfather–”

“–Stop interrupting me,” he snapped.

“You weren’t talking,” she said, wounded.

“Silence is sometimes the most effective way of speaking your mind. Very well, if I must fill the air with words, then I shall.

“I will go to this Council, wether you will it, or not. I shall make my plans clear to the Great Council, and win them over one by one if need be. Once I have convinced them all, then I will see that the Merhai actually follow the course of action that I direct them to, and I will build ourselves an empire. That has always been my dream, and I intend to see it carried out.

“And there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

“What is your plan?” she asked, again. “I will not move from this tent until you tell me, if I have to miss the Great Council.”

“That would be amusing,” he said. “I would then go to the Great Council myself, and you’d be stuck here in this tent, waiting for my answer.”

“Just tell me.”

He smiled. “Get a map, if you please.” She looked around, and found one lying askew among the pile of books that was beside his bed. Rolling it out, she prompted him, “Yes?”

“Find the place the Merhai are at.”

She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her nod anyway. “And?”

“You see the mountain range the Ikki nation is astride?”

“Of course.” It was hard to miss.

“The only ways to go through that range are to go through the monastic, enclosed Ikki, or go far, far to the south, to the passes–one ice-bound, the rest so far away as to be ridiculous. Now, we can assume that though the north is cold, the mountains there are probably going to peter out. And even if they are not... Then the route between nations like Gammorea and Gorin is rather shortened. And if not shortened, then at the very least, they have a new route to travel over–ours. And with trade comes riches... With riches...”

“Yes, I see your point. But we are so far north, that...”

“Open your eyes, granddaughter! If we can control the whole of this mountain range, then we will be not only a massive nation, but also in control over the entirety of the resources of the far north. And while timber and furs may seem a simple and cheap thing to us, much further south, they do not have these in abundance.”

“So you intend to make us the trading nation of the north.”

“All that and more, my sweet. I intend to make us the Empire of the North.”
 
Okay, I have a question for you.

A bunch of people seem to want the old 'areas of local autonomy' on the map.

What would you rather have? That, or the current system of regions?

Areas of local autonomy. The region system, IMO, has a number of problems, including the fact that many of our nations do not have real provinces in our nations, as they are drawn on the map. Also, the province system is getting in the way of real territory boundries. While Khemri has occupied Tellium and Verta for this turn, they are still two seperate countries (at least until Khemri annexes them) but because of the province system, there is no line denoteing any border. The rural economy system, if tweaked a little, would seem to be able to serve the same game function as provinces, and, if you returned to it, you would no longer need to draw the little, confusing lines all over the map.
 
I'm the biggest defender of the status quo around, but I liked the old system. However, the region system has its benefits as well, and if it's easier to update with that for Iggy, I support that.

What if locally autonomous areas could just be included as a separate section in the stats?

For example:

Veritas
...
...
Autonomous Areas: Mogul (area around Delhi)

It doesn't get much easier than that.
 
OOC: Getting a bit ambitious again, Thlayli? ;)

Just do whatever you want, LI. You're a good enough mod. :)
 
Contempt, Kal, and Thayli, I need

The name of your most famous ruler
The name of your most famous female ruler/other high position
and The name of your most Famous General
 
For thlayli the first and second ones are obvious. THE Stratikrator :D

And I am working on it, so shush.
 
Well, the most famous ruler would be Autorex Strategius. Look up some stories referring to him in the old thread...there's quite a few. The updates mention him a lot, as well.

The highest position a female ascended to in Veritas was Oceanus. Oceanus Quintalis was in charge of the Veritasan Navy during the outbreak of the Great War, and supervised the capture of Khadon and Alexandria with Stratikrator Sempronius, the successor to Strategius.

After Strategius returned power to the Assemblum, they made him Stratikrator, and his conquering of Eldrania along with Davar and Tristaria made him one of the most famous Veritasan generals, if not the most famous.

Other famous Stratikrators include Dominius, (conquered Zibon, annexed Emor) Sempronius, (see above), Cendrian, (captured and destroyed Said, sacrificed his life and army to delay Crystalist/Khemran forces), and Panteras (conquered Sintonia, captured Krenel, and rebuilt Redemption.)
 
The name of your most famous ruler
The name of your most famous female ruler/other high position
and The name of your most Famous General

Most Famous Ruler...mhmmm I have a few, Thing is, I rotated Through Dynasties, Most Famous Ruler, would either be King Alexander I of the second Alexander Dynasty, or King Rhama the IV I think (chose to continue the war with Veritas)

King Alexander I of the Second Dynasty (must think of An Easier abbreviation or something to use there...) would be the best General, (King Dysonis is a bit "recent" to have that historical aurua round him that makes everyone worship him :p). King Alexander, is the one who devised, carried out the Ambush in the Crystal Ridge Mountains, and is the General who carried the battle into Veritas proper.

Most Famous Female ruler is..Iman, reasons remain secrative. (uhmm its an effect she had on the Religion...)
 
It was a sorry sight - a venerable traveler in a tattered robe. The once white cloth was now a shade of dull brown, with occasional greenish stains. It was clearly something that did not suit him, as his bare wrists proved, but he looked to be in no position or disposition to worry about unfit clothes. He seemed rather content to be so old and poor. The only sign of uneasiness were the slight twitches in his eyebrows and eyes glistening, watered by slowly welling tears.

He was wandering the lands of his ancestors, the once glorious Shalamari. Only Veritas of old had ever rivaled its greatness. Now it was but a chapter in the vast volume of History. What was would never return, as all empires eventually fall and inevitably face oblivion. Even the current revival was not enough to bring any real hope of Shalamari returning to its former glory. Its time had passed, and was no more and never to be again. Most Shalamari were content with this. The old man was too, but he had other reasons for lamenting.

The Church which for long had dominated the Republic, had toppled its government in the most crucial time of its people. Threatened by the combined forces of bloodthirsty Gerbers and swarming Lengels, the Priests wore weapons and armor and became War-Clerics. They saught to protect the faith and the faithful, and went to great lengths to do so. They took matters in their own hands, and by doing so they robbed the people's chosen of their power - and greatly stressed the trust the people had in themselves. This proved to be their downfall in the end.

The war was quickly lost to the invading hordes, and the people forced to flee to the West and the South. The exiles in Gorin were particularily lucky, as they were not only under the protection of their host, but also enjoyed access to Ruby and the Stone Circles. Their Holy Site was saved from the enemy, and it greatly contributed towards maintaining Shalamari as a united, distinct culture. Still, this was not enough to prevent the failure of the Church from affecting the faithful. Many, many had converted to Masra over the century. Those who did not, spread rumors, instigated revolts and demanded community leadership to be elected and not selected. Eventually when Shalamari regained their homeland and resettled it, they had broken away from the Church's grasp.

Now, "War-Clerics" were widely regarded as backward conservatives, or even dangerous conspirators intent on toppling the frail new republic. It was all bollocks, although disputes still raged between the Church and the "New Circlemen". The old man had no interest in it, although he had sympathy for his colleagues who had to face the incessant accusations and wary eyes shot by these Chosen. He did not dispute their right to rule, though. The Church had tried in its time, and evidently failed. He only felt this resignation, and a slight irritation over the other's inability to drop the argument. Perhaps it was his wisdom, or simply old age.

He was not, as one might think, miserable because this power shift had lost him his job. Truthfully, he was slightly relieved. He still had food to last him through the faithful's donations, and he was past worrying about sleeping outside. He had nothing to interest a bandit, and the winters he had conquered for thirty years. He did not believe it would be his bane, after all these years. The lack of housing also meant he was able to travel around in the realm freely. He also avoided disturbing the locals regularily for donations or shelter - a dangerous thing to do for him in these times.

No, The Red Lady know he was not lamenting the hardships of his life. What he grieved the most was the state of his people and their religion. The faithful were not so towards their spiritual guides and guardians. Wherever he went, he knew someone might oppose him, and do everything in their might to drive him away. There was little he could do but comply, lest he seed further resentment and conflict. And this was the outcome of a milennia of benevolent guidance and protection, this was his kindred, his people. He had sworn his life to repairing this lack of trust, and seen it drift away inconsequentally, like an upturned sandglass. The result of his industry was ironically just as easily reversed. One paranoid Republican was enough to turn the entire community against him.

His life was spent in all but goodness, and he reflected this as well as he might through maintaining it that way. His struggle in expressing kindness and selflessness meant he never experienced anything he might want again. Luckily, it had also liberated him from regretting his life or his workings. Now as his life drew to a close, he felt neither bitterness or hatred. He was hollow and devoid of powerful emotions. This, he knew, was not of old age. Although he had long feared that the years would dull his mind as much as his body, it had blissfully turned out to be the opposite. This was also why he had begun to reflect anew on the state of things - he clearly felt his vigor was diminishing.

His life was, he felt, at last ending. There was nothing left to be done, and nothing much had been done. His work had largely ended in ruins, the people still mistrusted and blamed the Church for the defeat and destruction of Shalamari. He who previously had held a certain pride in not being part of the Church during the Last War, could only fall down onto his knees and realize his failure meant he was none the better. This broke through his barrier of calm, and also caused the tears to turn from a trickle to a flow. He had lost his strength of will to dream on, to hope.

At last the old man ceased his wandering. He simply sat down against a rock along the road, and waited for death to embrace him. Travelers saw him there, but none stopped longer than it took to recognize his patched ceremonial cape. He was not surprised. It only reaffirmed his belief, or lack thereof. He was intent on, if not content with, leaving his mortal shell in what peace he could still have. He still wished to help, and if that proved impossible, at least to do no harm.

Then, as he sat there on the roadside wasting away, a boy walked up to him. He was a bastard child, a Gorimari, with the dark skin of the Westerners and the red hair of the Yath. His eyes were a shade of green, and they shone with remarkable brilliance. He stood in front of the dying old man for a long time, before he suddenly grasped his hand and spoke.

"Why are you sitting here like this, Grandpa*?"

The words of the lad moved the crippled War-Cleric like only The Red Lady could. He tried to muster the strength to answer, or at least think of a reply. He was numb and weak, and so only managed to raise his head and gape moronically. The boy still stood there, holding his hand and pressing firmly. He waited for the answer that never came, unrelented by the appaling sight of the old Priest. This brought confusion and despair to the latter, who struggled even harder against the enfeeblement.

At last, like a miracle, he managed to speak.

"Why? My child?"

A series of dreadful coughs brought his body down in a painful crouch. He pulled himself back up again to face the boy.

"Who are you, my child? Why do you ask?"

"I was sent to find you, Grandpa. You wish to teach me."

"Sent? By who?"

The boy did not reply, but sat there with the old man's hand still in his own. He looked straight in the eye without blinking and only waited. At last, a miracle really occured as the truth was revealed.

"Praised be The Red Lady! Unworthy am I, who is so blessed indeed!"

"You wish to teach me, Grandpa."

The boy pulled the old man up to his feet. Strange, how they still managed to support him. He still felt hollow and feeble, but a force not his own now drove him. He had a mission now, and terribly little time.

"I will teach you. I will teach you the only thing you need to know!"

The old man lived for three days with his new apprentice. He taught him all his survival tricks, gave him his staff and provided clothes fit for a life on the road. Then he commanded him to travel far away, to a place that had not heard of Shalamari at all. He vested him with this mission, and died shortly thereafter.

"Go, for you are the Seed of Destiny. The Red Lady protect you and guide you. May you one day be able to spread the faith and rebuild the Church. Go with this blessing. Go!"

And the boy went, leaving all he had ever known except his faith. His name was Viski Lasi.

*Common reference to the head of a monastery or temple by young apprentices
 
ummm is that a rebelion? if it isn't then thats cool

if it is... well.. umm sorry?

anyway, you could have asked me to set up some kind of protection for your religion... i never intended it to start going away like that... and it hasn't really,
 
Considering that the boy is LEAVING Shalamari... ;) Excellent story, though perhaps a bit gloomy...
 
silver, please stop trying to convert my population... i have done nothing but help you, stop trying to screw up my nation

don't make me take harsh measures
 
Kentharu said:
silver, please stop trying to convert my population... i have done nothing but help you, stop trying to screw up my nation

don't make me take harsh measures

Kentharu, try to READ the story before making comments ;) The whole story practically reeks of how the Shalamari church has lost the faith and trust of her people who are converting to Masra en masse and how the main character, a Cleric himself, had lost faith. And how his student is leaving Shalamari... :(
 
leaving the shalamari to go spread the word, i read the story, i also read the stats, there are more crystalist people than there were before... but maybe that is just population growth *shrug* we will find out soon
 
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