End of Empires - N3S III

The Thorsrdyn of Evyn, Isathmæyr, aware of the ignorance that the Horselord possesses of the North and our customs, issues the following clarifications upon previous issued words. The title of Lawgiver (Thorsrdyn) is a hereditary throne passed down through the Imperial Line, from the founding by the Great Roech, down to his 20th successor, myself. By claiming the title, one argues that they are fit to rule by their relationship to the initiator- which he is clearly not, being a southernling. Furthermore, a Lawgiver is honor-bound by word- a declaration is binding. By signing peace with the Empire, and the prosecuting a vicious betrayal of that peace, Jahan has proven that his word is worthless. Even were he of the required royal blood, he is invalid to be Thorsrdyn due to his dishonesty.

In addition, the false Jahan proclaims himself a defender of the Ytauzi- yet he does not seem to realize that by ordering his horde- for that is what they truly are, a barbarian horde- he has wrecked devastation upon the community. With reckless abandonment, he and his horde burned the oirnaoss of Anyāis, scorched countless libraries, and slaughtered countless scholars during their siege of that city. Which is nothing to speak of the wreckage inflicted upon Asveydr, the other Learned City. He also seeks to paint the Lawgiver as intolerant, yet all that live within the Empire know that the Ytauzi are without restriction within the Empire. Furthermore, the minority religions are allowed – with tax- to operate within their strongholds, as has been the tradition for over hundreds of years.

The false Jahan seeks to sow discord where there is none to be found. All the quem of Evyn are honor bound in their loyalty to the Thorsrdyn. Perhaps it is a concept that Jahan is unaware of, as he is well known in his treacherous ways, but the quem of Evyn take their honor in detail. And perhaps Jahan is unaware that every qurœ of the Empire is ruled by a noble of their own people, as has been tradition for countless centuries. Perhaps Jahan is unaware that by asking the loyal lords of Evyn to betray their proper liege, Jahan insults that honor. There is much that the Horselord does not know.

But the Lawgiver of Evyn does not berate the false Jahan for his desperate attempts to secure some foothold in the North. Even as he begs for peace from the Righteous Moti in the south, he recognizes that his horde can not hold the North. His armies lie thin, in a vast land which they are ignorant about. All that his trickery and surprise have bought him lie in danger, as the true host of Evyn has yet been introduced to combat- has yet to even be called up. The Might of the North shall be brought against the false Pretender, and in the end there will be no sparing him from judgment.

Issued by word by Isathmæyr, Thorsrdyn of Evyn.
 
Too many times has the craven Isathmaeyr fled from my all-conquering armies. He will do so again until I burn his palace and his false god.

The blood of the heretic Lawgiver grows thin and dilute, and he even turns to Xieni to bolster it. A wise choice, to turn to the steppe to strengthen your weak blood, but a late one. Far too late, for a coward and a failure.
 
The Lay of the Unbowed

Part the First: The Satar, The Shield, The Fire-Light

Part the Second: The Accanon, The Out-Caste, The Sea Lord

We lie, to fight, with word and whisper set alight.
To run, so fleet, but never to concede defeat,
To win, we have to cheat.


-Second Call [Call of the Accans], Karapeshai Tela [The Lay of the Unbowed]

Steamed, herb encrusted feliocca. When cooked perfectly, the fish’s pale lavender flesh turned a delicate orange, and tasted like God’s divine reward. The creatures were rare to begin with, worth a day’s wages for a fisherman lucky enough to catch one. In the highest circles of society, it was eaten with spiced rice. The rice came from the far northwest of the world, and the spices from the far southeast…so the clear implication was that anyone wealthy enough to eat feliocca with spiced rice could get anything from anywhere. His only personal addition to the dish was lime juice. He had seen far too many undersupplied ships straggle into port filled with malnourished sailors, pallid skin and toothless gums a sure sign of scurvy. Men cannot live on flesh alone. As we now know.

Then, veal filets, breaded in flour, with a dark brown wine reduction sauce. It was covered in parsley and served over some sort of purple, leafy vegetable. The wine, a blushing light pink during the first course, changed over to a deep, rich red that tasted like the earth. Hot strips of crispy white bread were on hand, for dipping into the sauce after the meat itself was consumed. The bread was a concession to the flatbread which dominated much Satar cuisine, and replaced their plates. He found their habit of eating with their hands somewhat repulsive, and like most of his people, consumed his food with a knife and a two-pronged silver fork.

The final course consisted of two peltas, a tiny snow-white bird that lived in alpine valleys far from human civilization. To snare a peltas was considered the highest refinement of a hunter’s craft. They had been broiled quickly, under high heat, and bathed in pure butter, the small amount of meat on each bird incredibly sweet and tender. Table manners aside, it was impossible not to eat these delicacies with one’s hands. A salad of peaches and plums covered in sugar-syrup served as the garnish, and the wine was almost as pale as water. As tradition dictated, after the last bite of the meal he drank a glass of cold rainwater, an act with as many meanings as there were shades of shadow.

Each evening, the Letoratta, the Sea-Lord, observed the formality of this traditional three course meal. Sea, to land, to sky. Another hallmark of a culture obsessed with hierarchy. Each of the great families had its place in the order of precedence. Sarturro came first, deeply tied to the Censoratta. Then Atteri, the old dynasty of the Princes of the Sun, hugely discredited but still immensely old and powerful. Catta, Tepecci, Secutto. The great names, whose glory could almost not be hidden behind nuccia walls. They were the silent strength that had upheld three centuries of Satar dominion.

They were vindictive, fratricidal, brilliant, and guarded. And they hated him.

Here he was now, the favored of the Redeemer. The second most powerful Accan in the Exatai by a stroke of chance, and he had done it without being an inhabitant of the High Nuccia. The Letoratta slept on board his ship, surrounded by his guards, or he would have long since been assassinated by ‘Aitahists’ and replaced. In truth, he would never be assassinated by Aitahists. Some of his sailors were Aitahists, and his body servant Naasi kept a tiny shrine of the Lady in his closet of a bunk, surrounded by the indistinct shapes of the ancestors. The Letoratta worshipped the Lord of Wind, He Who Calms the Waves, Talledi. But he did not care if his sailors worshipped some foreign woman or one of the toes on their feet, as long as they rowed, grappled, and fought when he said so.

And for that, he knew he should have been killed by now.

His fault was having seen the world on his own terms. All of the great mercantile houses were controlled by the High Families or their puppets. Even if he had possessed the connections to become one of their captains, (and the young Rutarri did not,) most of the wealth was siphoned away by the voyage’s backers. Thus increasing the holdings of the High Nuccia, and perpetuating the pseudo-enslavement of families outside the circle. So Rutarri sold his family home, an act of near-blasphemy in his society, and moved his entire family onboard his first vessel. Until they had enough money to purchase slaves, his elder sons were among his rowers.

This changed. The dye trade was good, the saffron trade was better, and the slave trade made him rich as a prince. Rutarri gained a reputation for being a well-paying, well-feeding captain, and he enforced those standards fiercely among his sub-captains when his wealth became sufficient to control a small trading fleet. Having cut almost all ties to the homeland, the fleet became his nuccion, his ships well built and perfectly maintained. He became a man of repute in the less…restrictive Accan Quarter at Seis. He gained the friendship of the young Redeemer Vespelian Atteri, a reformist like himself. His life was reaching a golden, glorious perihelion.

And then the Censoratta ‘repurposed’ his growing mercantile empire as a warfleet, giving him the dubious honor of its command only because his sailors would mutiny if not. The disaster off Neruss was not simply the destruction of the fleet of the Ardavai Exatai. It was the death of a lifetime’s worth of hard labor and invested wealth. And more poignantly, it was the death of his son, Etto. That he survived, cast ashore clinging to a wooden spar, salt crusting his eyes and his lips and stinging in his wounds, that he survived despite everything…how could that not be a sign from Talledi that his time was not yet here?

Jahan would not step on a boat if his god descended from the heavens to demand it of him. But he seemed to see in Rutarri the same resilience in the face of abject defeat that he himself possessed. Over the objections of Tarkas Sarturro and his coterie, he gave the disgraced Letoratta a new fleet. But this time, it would not be the fat, contented fleet of a merchant prince sailing for doom.

The Letoratta stood, wiping his mouth with a sleeve.

It was the purpose-driven fleet of a merchant of death, driving like an arrow of cold iron, cutting through the northern sea.

It had been a delicious meal.

---

He raised, his hand, and moved at Rutarri's command,

The wood, the cloth, the hundred ships of deadly troth,

The Sea-Lord’s fleet cast off.
 
It is the foremost flattery that despite being such a 'failure' and 'coward', you still bolster my prestige by claiming my title. I do not flaunt around calling myself the Horselord of Barbarians, do I? It is because we both know which of the two is more prestigious- and which of the two carries more weight. Yet, I grow weary of the bickering- let these be my final words for you, False Jahan. Being the deceitful curd you are, you caught me off guard by invalidating our treaty. You and your horde advanced into lands your ilk do not belong to, and like a unknowing hunter who awakens a sow bear from her slumber, think you stand in no danger. Your arrogance and cruelty will be you downfall, and as the Empire clambers from her slumber, enraged by the danger to her young, you will soon see the error of your ways.

Pray for mercy from your invalid god, False Jahan, for the next time we meet in battle, you will surely receive none from I.
 
NK what would you say the population of the major cities of the world currently are? (And Leun + Asardias) Random tangent. :)
 
As it happens, I was partway through a city list just about a week ago. Didn't get to the east, or by extension, Leun, which I would put around 50,000.

All these are VERY provisional and I would not necessarily take any of them at face value.


West

Aeda: 85,000
Amhatr
Anraugh
Ardebal
Atlama
Bashima
Caghin
Caidi
Cairhay
Dael
Dehr: 20,000
Dula: 350,000
Edris
Elapo
Fetlar
Ghaon
Gialla
Hachtli
Haina: 50,000
Kerch
Leon
Limach
Luchas
Mara
Marheshi
Mora: 60,000
Muyan
Naranue
Navah
Nechta
Noaunnaha
Obragha
Ochu
Rakuts
Saigh: 65,000
Shealuh
Suibni
Tara
Ther
Tiagho: 90,000
Traha: 35,000
Unnaha

Cradle

Aloa
Anuua
Aramaia: 35,000
Arastephaion: 10,000
Arkage
Asandar: 40,000
Athas
Banh: 15,000
Beran
Bursun
Bysrium
Caon
Cartugog
Cyre
Dremai: 40,000
Evui
Gaci: 185,000
Goso
Gyza
Hala
Haleaka
Hanakahi
Het
Hiuttu: 80,000
Hulos
Jakauii
Jahip
Jania
Kargan: 35,000
Karidil
Katdhi
Kea
Khead
Kirost
Kona
Krato: 65,000
Laowosh
Leuce
Lokos
Lotumbo
Lumada
Magha: 85,000
Mahid: 45,000
Minar
Moti
Nali
Nasri
Neruss
Nikros
Onesca
Opios: 55,000
Pa
Palmyra
Piatrata
Pisos
Puri
Reppaba
Salei: 30,000
Salgaron
Saorei
Seis: 65,000
Sivao
Sivi
Subal
Talis
Tarr
Temish
Thaylon
Thearak
Thura
Tilegun
Tisatar
Treha: 35,000
Trovin: 40,000
Tynet
Xephaias: 5,000
Yashidim
Zeray
 
While I'm here, I might as well ask who all is playing. It can be unclear sometimes. Obviously I know of everyone who has posted since the update. ;)

I've put together a little recording to demonstrate what a standard (Southern) Faronun accent from around this time period would sound like. The idea's based on the Speech Accent Archive, which catalogs various different accents. One of the ways of doing this is through the diagnostic paragraph, which contains a broad set of English's phonemes:

Please call Stella. Ask her to bring these things with her from the store: Six spoons of fresh snow peas, five thick slabs of blue cheese, and maybe a snack for her brother Bob. We also need a small plastic snake and a big toy frog for the kids. She can scoop these things into three red bags, and we will go meet her Wednesday at the train station.


Would anyone else like to try this?

I did the same as Iggy.

http://www.mediafire.com/?7e438q29c2i7kno

However with a twist. It begins by reading aloud a poetic phrase in Illian.

These are super cool, guys. :)

You stand before us today. Your host is few and less, and it dwindles every moon as ours strengthens. Yet you stand before us. You fly the banner of an old faith, torn and ripped asunder by corruption and decay. Yet you stand before us. You claim a crown whose jewel we possess, a claim as empty as your future. Yet you stand before us. We offered you the branch of peace, should only you kneel. Yet you stand.

You are a brave prince. We understand your devotion your traditions, your land, and your people. A man who has not yet seen the brilliance of her light can be forgiven for forsaking its beauty. Yet you are wrong. Your faith is incomplete, corrupted, missing the spark of the divine. Your Wards to whom you bow will offer you no solace. It will fail you.

If you are so convinced of your righteousness to continue to defy us, sally force and meet us in the field. We would be glad to meet a prince of honor in battle.

If she is not who we claim to her to be, then we may fail and you may yet depart in glory.

But do you really believe such?

We hear your challenge, o heretic, and we sneer at it. You must think us quite the fool, to take your challenge and meet you on your own terms. Perhaps you have spent too much time in Astria, where I hear the cities challenge one another to army-duels and prearrange the date and place of meeting -- or perhaps you have spent too much time around your Nahari courtiers, who I hear have not had half a wit about them since the death of Ruman.

The point, quite simply, is thus: if you wish to meet us in battle, we will gladly give you battle. But you must sleep in fear, for we will not tell you when or where.
 
OOC: There's 350,000 people in Dula? How can there be so many more people there than in other cities? :eek:
 
OOC: There's 350,000 people in Dula? How can there be so many more people there than in other cities? :eek:

Seis and Magha are both running far below their historical peaks at present, for obvious reasons.

I'd estimate that at its height during the end of the first Union of Aya'se, Seis had at least a quarter million, though NK is free to correct this.
 
Tarena is hurr, doing nonsensical things! I havn't posted yet because I see you on #nes enough and I am gathering my thoughts. A very non-Tarenian thing to do.
 
Union might and Union glory! Union strength and Union arms! Union faith and Union prayers! Victory! Victory! Victory!
 
Bah, tis a shame. :(
 
Dawn of the Rihnit ~ Part 1​

Several hundred ago, back when the Rihnit were non-existent there was a city off in the distance. It was especially large at the time with a population of approximately of 12,000 at it’s peak and it was also extremely wealthy and powerful.

Trinity of Thorns
Honor, Hope and Courage​


No matter how difficult and bleak life gets
The trinity shall always honor you and your loved ones
No matter how fearful or desperate you become
The trinity shall always give you hope and wisdom
No matter how much sacrifice or casualties occurs
The trinity shall always inspire unwavering courage and strength
As long as you honor the trinity of thorns you shall succeed​

But around 500 years ago and on an early dawn when a mother heard knocking on the door to her house. She walked over to the door thinking her husband had returned with some money and supplies he got from working but instead it was three guards demanding tribute.
Her face soon became a reaction of anger when she asked, “what do you want this time?!? I already gave you everything I had!”
The shortest guard said with a chuckle of sick sadistic amusement, “don’t raise your voice at us, and we want your child.”
“No! Never! I’ll never sacrifice them!”
He swiftly grabbed her by her shirt and said, “I already told you not to raise your voice! If you say one more thing I’ll kill you!”
So while the mother was kept restrained the two other guards picked up both of the children and walked off. However, the last guard who walked out said something unusual to the mother, “honor the thorns and the trinity will be with you.”
 
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