TerraNES: The Civil Experiment

Large dots are Cities. They provide +1 Urban income and represent moderate concentrations of trade, industry, population. Smaller dots are towns/settlements which represent significant regions of mining, agriculture, or even foraging.

Lots of Questions. Clarification on Barb Colors.

Light Grey means lots of small tribes which are not unified in any sense and are not expansive, but provides some resistance to expansion. OR they can also represent developed areas which are very insular.
Dark Grey means tribal confederacies, small kingdoms, and the like, with varying degrees of development but no stability in the mid-long term. OR they can also represent undeveloped areas with strong migrationary tendencies and aggressive outlooks.
Dark Grey going into a Nation means a small Kingdom unifies a signifigant area or becomes stable, the people unify against outsiders, or a small group managed to institute control over a migration. After that the nation becomes its own nation in the stats and even can fight against their neighboring "barbarians."

Ah, thank you for clarifying that Terrance. I was just wondering about all of that.

Sorry about not sending orders...I was out of town. Also, please fix my name in the stats. I've had problems with PMs going to a different user.

It's ok. Please get them in next turn.

Writing a story might make me happy too.

I forgot no islands, you just don't see the color.

I used paint.NET
I have the river layer first, than the sea+black borders of continents where everything else is cut out, than the mountains on 50% opacity and last just one big white layer where I actually color and it only shows where the second layer was cut, through the 50% mountains.

If you can get the paint file over, I'll...

Well, you know what you are gonna get.

Writing a story. This will be a big turn for the Gyrids.

"King Sarklov my lord."

The once proud and youthful man that had become the king at the beginning of the new era leaned his ear to the newcomer that had entered the council room. That's where King Sarklov spent most of his days, listening to endless plans that the generals and civil servants dreamed up. "Have you brought the papyrus?"

"I have King. Here you go." The young man set the papyrus scrolls down in front of the leader and stood at attention off to the side as Sarklov spread the scrolls out on the surface of the table, examining them with critical eyes. Even though he had cataracts and required glasses to peer at far distances, his mind was sharp even in his old age. For several minutes he sat there reading and reading, looking for any faults or discrepancies in it.

Finally he nodded his head and smiled, signing paper after paper for several more minutes until he was done. Carefully, he wrapped them back up into their tight little scrolls and beckoned for the other man to pick them up. Handing them off, Sarklov leaned back into his chair with a smile on his face, letting the warm rays from the open window warm his body.

"Are you sure about this sir?"

Sarklov opened his eyes to see the concerned expression of the other man. "Perfectly sure. Make sure that these orders are carried out to the letter son."

"As you command my father." He bowed before he left, taking one last look over his shoulder before he left.

The orders on the paper were very clear and precise; the gradual manumitting of the slaves, the freeing of them and letting them own own property in the settlements. Farmland was too be tilled in large amounts, rewards given out to those who did that and settled in the recently captured towns inside of the borders. It would cost a lot of money yes, and would sap at the economy yes, but at the same time it would deeply benefit the people of the country as time went on.

Sarklov smiled one last time and looked out the windows. A flock of birds streamed past.

He could pass in peace now.

Terrance888 said:

If you can get the paint file over, I'll...

Well, you know what you are gonna get.

Click to expand...

How can I give you the file?

I dunno, email it directly as a Paint.net file? Make seperate PNGs of each layer so I can see how you set them up?

Cry of the Falcon

Dirage had hurried to Lyr the moment he had heard the news, but already he could tell he was too late. Black hung from the walls of the palace, and the streets were deserted, as custom dictated in times like these. The guards recognized his face and let him in the palace without a hassle. Dirage soon found himself in the throne room, where the nobles had gathered around the body in the center. It was a tragic scene, deathly quiet save the winds that surrounded the grand palace. In the center sat the body, covered by a black sheet emblazoned with a gold falcon. Dirage took a moment to pay his respects, then turned his attention to the corner of the room. Darius Ke-Jyr stood there in the shadows, leaning against the wall almost casually. His silence spoke volumes of the torment inside him. His sworn brother had never been one to wear his heart on his shoulder, no matter what grieved him. Approaching him, Dirage gave a slight bow out of respect.

"I came as soon as I heard of your father," he said softly. "I am deeply aggrieved."

Darius nodded slightly, then stepped into the center of the room. "Leave us," he suddenly announced to the crowd. Slowly, they dispersed from the room, leaving just himself and Dirage behind. Darius remained silent as he paced the room.

"He was ambushed by the Phygians. They attacked our settlers as they approached the mountains. He died to save his soldiers." Darius said suddenly.

"He died protecting his people," Dirage said in a consoling tone. "It was what he would have wanted."

Darius remained stoic as he paced the room. "I've already sent our armies against Ceris. They've shown they are willing to hurt us, so they need to be removed for the good of the land."

Dirage gave a slight smile. "Fighting for your people instead of revenge. Your father would have been proud." Not even these words pierced his cold exterior, Dirage noticed. Darius continued to pace, as though some unknown thought plagued him. "Does something trouble you brother?"

Darius stopped pacing and turned to face his father under the cloth. "It was a dream I had a fortnight ago," he said slowly. "I dreamt of a falcon, who perched atop a throne at the peak of a mountain. As he stood there, a statue of gold sent a man with his eyes put out to throw the bird into the ravine below. Then I saw the mountain crack open, erupting fire and consuming the statue and the land around it. Above the ruined land shone a single star, ."

Darius turned to face a stunned looking Dirage. "I fear I may have foreseen my father's death, and maybe what is to come. It troubles me, brother."

Dirage tried his best to be reassuring. "Our sages believe that dreams may be messages from the beyond. Perhaps you have seen that fortune will look favorably on us."

"I do hope so," Darius said, regaining the vigor he once commanded. "In any case, we have mourned my father long enough. He had great plans for this land, and I must seek to carry them out. We must remain a mighty people, and strike down those who seek us harm."

Darius strode to the front of the room, where the golden throne sat like a majestic tower. Upon the throne lay a sturdy golden chain with a pendant carved of gold and emerald, engraved with the falcon of the Ke-Jyr family. Taking it, Darius placed the pendant around his own neck, succeeding his father and becoming the new king of the Gyrid lands.

"I must remain in the capital," Darius said. "My father must be buried, and I must tend to the economy of our nation."

Darius placed both hands on Dirage's shoulders. "Brother, I entrust the army to you. Lead our men to victory, and show the land the might of the Gyrid people."

Dirage bowed deeply, reminding himself to have his sword tended to when he left. "I will do it, my lord. For your sake, and the sake of your father."

Is it too late for new players to join?

It shouldn't be.

One evening as the sun went down..



The Nicata Ograda rubbed his hands silently. He got cold, just like the rest of his men, but he wouldn't show it. Weakness was, well, a weakness. His father, Rgatas, had taught him to be strong at all times. Sometimes this training failed him; tonight was such an occasion.

"Move aside, men. I've a tale to tell."

Ogradas regretted saying this immediately. He had just wanted a place to sit so he could warm his hands; half the campsite had flooded from the recent rains, and things had gotten cold, quick. Damn lowlands. He hadn't a tale to tell at all; he could barely think.

"Back when I was a lad, I stayed at the Nicatorum most of my life. When my father, Rgatas went hunting, I went with him. We would leave the Rtas far behind, and venture into the great snowcap mountains, far in the north.

"'The edge of the world!' he would call them. 'The place from which the primordial titans sent their animal playthings to battle for the land; where the sky met the ground and clashed greatly!' Anyway, I stayed at the Nicatorum in Ctesiphod most of my life. My life was spent training; training to defend our lands, training to be the Nicata when the time came. Well, it's come at long last. I'm the Nicata, as Rgatas passes. Can't say I welcome the responsibility, but it's all mine now."

Several of his men patted him on the back awkwardly. Why was the Nicata telling them stories?

One spoke up.

"Nicata.. if I may, what of your son? O'rannash?"

Ogradas looked up at the man. A tall, light-haired boy from Mediolaun. Recently recruited; a greenhorn, but an animal with a spearhook. He couldn't remember his name.

"The boy will do well with his uncle, says I. Rakor will take care of him in their travels. A siege is no place for a boy." Rakor was his cousin, and the head of the Rumen, the "outlanders", as they had become known. Those not from the capital.

Ogradas looked at the distant mud-brick walls of Agame. That damnable city will fall within the mooncycle. It must, he thought, if I am to return to my son.

***This story happened before the fall of Agame, in the last update.

2950 BC

Salman was twenty-seven cycles aged when Raj Kumar II selected him to be the rajpalya of Varldaphair with the death of the previous one. The fact remained that Salman lived not in Varldaphair proper, but in a village along the banks of the Indus south of the city. But apparently, Salman had been recommended by the rajpalya of Varldaphair to be among the district's wisest men. Salman had served on the rajpalya's council for two years representing his village. It seemed that the rajpalya was a close friend of Kumar II in Daksina, and Kumar was listening.

So it was that Salman waited on the roadside for the carriage that would pick him up and take him to Daksina. The road was new, having been completed only five cycles earlier by the Daksinans that had come. Salman looked back at the village, with its newly built houses in the southeast, partially funded by the Raj himself, then at one of the two newly dug irrigation channels through the farmland outside the village. Daksina had brought so much to the region, despite all the reactionaries' cries that the region would be destroyed and oppressed.

Salman had been handed a tablet with a map of the area under Daksina's influence. It was a copy of one that the Raj had in his palace in Daksina:


Salman saw the chariot roll in from the north. His ride was here.

Moldath said:

Is it too late for new players to join?

Click to expand...

electric926 said:

It shouldn't be.

Click to expand...

Electric is right. Put up This:

Nation Name/Player Name
Color
Location
Background

Click to expand...

For a new nation. Also, we have 3 NPC (Non-player-characters) Available for Adoption.

Wasati Thebes/NPC
Color: Dark Green
Age: Early Bronze
Size: Petite
Economy: 1/1/1-0
Military: 2 Spearmen (1.5)
Confidence: Simmering
Culture: Mediocre
Projects: Nile Defenses (+ Defense, 1/3)
Description: Always a rough city, Thebes controls gold mines and a head full of attitude. They have set themselves against Anor claiming that the Gods prefer the cities to be independent and fueding since the beginning of history, and they like to keep it that way. Nontheless, they have conquered many towns in their mid to set themselves as a rival to the northern Anor.

Click to expand...

Irud/NPC
Color: Brown
Religion: Primitive Animalism
Age: Early Bronze
Size: Tiny
Economy: 1/1/0-0
Military: 2 Warriors (1)
Confidence: Respectful
Culture: Limited
Projects:
Description: Grown rich off trade with Aramya, they nontheness aggressively assert their independence, unlike their former rival Lo.

Click to expand...

Sparta/NPC
Color: Purple
Religion: Pimative Animalism
Age: Early Bronze
Size: Tiny
Economy: 1/1/1-0
Military:1 Spearmen (3), 2 Spearmen (1.5)
Confidence: Respecting
Culture: Mediocre
Projects:
Description: Uniting the Pelloponesians, they seek to anatagonize Thloryn without distrupting the profitable trade of her rival state.

Click to expand...

Finally, possible states may form at Genoa-area, Samnites, Chinese States, Anatolia (Troy; Ceris will have to face a war), Xiong (Mongolians), Indus cities or almost anywhere there is light/dark grey.

Three choices.
Form a new state by yourself.
Take an NPC and change it over time.
Form a state out of Barbarians, and change it within a few turns.

Welcome and have fun.



Also everybody; GREAT STORIES. They make me feel nice and warm inside.
Stockholme; Your orders once again deserves to be admired by all as a work of art. Post them any time you want, and help build our new world an ever more unique foundation.

Toras-noth/Moldath
Colour: Apple Green
Location: Sicily (Catania)
Background: The people of Toras had abandoned their land many years ago, fearing that they had angered the spirit of the mountain (Etna), Ziril. The High Shaman declared that this was due to their hostile actions towards neighbouring tribes. Dreaming of their home, and the fertile land, the Torasites have returned, ever mindful of the wraith of Ziril.



Etar's father, Kudust, had been a noble who was exiled from his land, supposedly at laughing over the chieftains misjudgement. The chieftain seized his property, yet let him keep his boat, Kudust's pride, on the condition he set sail and never return. Kudust took his three wives and children, his brother's family, and his slaves, and set sail. Etar was six years of age when this happened.

Etar was quite different from his father. Whereas his father dictated to not only his slaves, but to his family as well – as though he were god, Etar believed that not only should his family be treated with respect, but also the slaves. They were all exiled after all, and the slaves felt like family. Etar physical resembled his father. At least, all but his hair. Etar's hair was firey-red.

Kudust had sailed south, finding warmer air, and making occasional landfalls. Whenever they seemed as though they would settle, Kudust would always declare that 'this land and it's people were not noble enough for him', and so they would immediately set sail again. This pattern would repeat for years.

On one fateful day, despites pleas from his family, Kudust set sail. The skies were dark, and the air was not nearly as warm as it had been. Kudust declared that his boat would not fail in the face of anything, especially when he himself commanded it. That night, the waters became agressive, and the rain, strong. The elements, in one massive wave, capsized the boat.

Etar awoke, with the sun beating down on his face. There was some debris around him, but no sign of survivors. He spent the rest of the day searching, but to no avail. The following day, Etar foraged for some food, and then set off, hoping he could find someone on whatever land this was.


The people of Toras had just come back to their home, weary of the spirit of Ziril, they were determined to not go against the will of Ziril. The High Chief was in poor health, and it seemed a new leader would be choosen soon – yet they needed the blessing of Ziril, bestowed through the High Shaman. The candidates however, all bickered between themselves. The day the cheiftain died, anyone, and everyone, came to attend the choosing ceremony. The High Shaman, stood alone at the front of the cermony. Facing away from the onlookers, he was performing a last ritual to Ziril, hoping that the spirit of the mountain would show him the true High Chief. The candidates were all kneeling, facing the Shaman, waiting for his verdict. The Shaman turned around, his eyes closed. There was no sound, no one dared make a sound. As he opened his eyes, he looked up, and stared past the onlookers. No one moved. The Shaman said

"I have prayed and prayed to Ziril these past weeks for her blessing for our new High Cheiftain. Until this day, may prayers have gone unanswered. Until this day, I believe that She was still vengeful towards us. But now, on this day, look towards the one She has blessed. Look towards the one who will guide our people. Look towards the new High Cheif!"

As he finished speaking, the High Shaman gestured to the hill behind the onlookers.

There, a man with firey-red hair was standing.

Welcome to the game!

I'll add you in this update. Italy is going to be very fun!

Also, I think you'll start with a proto-religion. Ziril Animalism; is that fine with you? (Still animalistic spirits, but with Ziril as the most important one)

Thanks! Ziril Animalism is fine, however shouldn't it be Animism?

Well, Primitive Animalism->Animalism->Ritual Animalism is the generic path for generic people. If you ever want to spread Ziril as the god of All volcanos in the future, then we'd better name it Ziril Animalism. Besides, as the root of your culture, it seems interesting/worth a religious center with a few more stories/a project.

For those of you cultivating religions. When you go from Proto/Primative-X to just X, that is when you can start building religious buildings, send missionaries, and stablize it. Until Proto/Primative-X becomes just X, it will still have many different ways of thought.

Ziril Animalism seems to already have a singular religious structure, so that is why I am letting Moldath start with a completed religion.