End of Empires - N3S III

"Do not despair when your will fails to change the world. It is not a failure of your will, but a failure of the world." ~ Arastephas the Redeemer

“You are an idealist, not yet corrupted to bitterness and pessimism like myself.” ~ Shafay Fetosa


He was afraid of the dark.

For another person, in another time, at another place, this would have not been quite so shameful. But his father had taught him, once, that the night was the place of truth. He had told his son of the joy of walking forest paths by moonless night. He had told him that those who prattled on about the light were mistaken, that they regarded as holy a thing which was mundane. False gods.

And his faith had never wavered.

But still, he feared the dark.

“No moon. No veil.” The other soldier crept beside him, and Yaro looked at the sky. Indeed, it was pitch black, like a wordless stela scattered with glowing sand. The stars could not hope to provide much light. He did not worry about tripping and falling. His father had taught him to walk among the trees since the day he could walk at all, and he knew how to set his foot down high, walking so that he never dragged his feet along the ground, never caught along hidden roots or fell into hidden haunts of burrowing creatures. He had to worry about what might be out there, though. Who wouldn't?

“We ought to get back soon,” Yaro whispered, glancing nervously at the sky again. The lavender of the evening sky had only just faded, to be sure, but he had no intention of staying until morning. Like as not, they wouldn't find anything, except maybe a few drunk Talorénekt. The city stood on a quiet peninsula, and the Redeemer's troops were to take it tomorrow, as one of the last bases for Taexi's grand invasion of Ederrot.

“Settle down, Yaro,” the other soldier said. It might have been soothing, but Yaro could hear the mockery in his voice. The others knew this time as the embrace of the infinite, of the universe. To Yaro's credit, he could mostly suppress his anxieties. The almost primeval fear he felt – well, he couldn't make it go away, but he could certainly rationalize it until only the back of his mind even noticed it. He had been training for long enough that newer instincts plastered over the ones he'd had at birth. That was enough for his superiors.

And so they continued on, the forest echoing all about them. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, and he knew from the call that it would be some tawny beast, searching for a careless mouse in the night. The occasional flutter of bats wings signaled their passage above. Otherwise, the only sound was that peculiar sense of seamless breath that came from a still forest, the sense that the trees had a presence, even if it was impossible to define.

The damp forest floor compressed gently under their footsteps, and soon, they found they had to fight through the underbrush that marked the forest's edge.

“Quietly!” Yaro called softly, worried that somehow they might be heard. A spiny plant caught his clothing, but every Taudo had the foresight to wear trousers that could not tear on the devil's club. Carefully, he grabbed the broad side of the leaf, avoiding the spears that lined each of its veins.

“Yaro.” The other man's voice was urgent, and Yaro stopped, stock still, looking about. What lingered in the night?

In the distance, beyond the underbrush, standing in an otherwise bare field, lay a well-staked encampment. Though the hours had worn on for some time now, dozens of fires still burned. Hundreds, maybe. And how many had been extinguished before they arrived?

“By the night...” he whispered, awestruck.

The city did not stand alone.

Ephasir's army had landed.


As triumphs go, Ognyan's had been rather understated. Yes, Seehlt had been crushed under the boots of the Aitahist alliance, and yes, they stood on the frontiers of the League, triumphant. They had turned aside the too-small force the Karapeshai had sent, and they had scattered the Maninists back towards the seas. But the king ordered no celebrations. All this, he said, was merely just a prelude. They had not toppled the heretics in their distant towers, and the Fifth Aitah remained unrecognized by most of the world. They had not finished their work.

The Gallasene force had halted the Aitahists near Lutan, true, but though the two sides seemed evenly matched, Ognyan urged his soldiers to prepare for battle once more. Cleverness and ferocity combined, he suggested, would rout the enemy, drive them into the sea. It was a heady and, truth be told, rather optimistic appraisal of the battle lines, but the soldiers prepared nonetheless, and the skirmishes commenced once more. Before either side could bring their forces to bear, though, a new army joined the fray.

Kintyra's journey to the far south had met with rejection and derision from the Aitahists in Caroha. But she pressed on determinedly, sending messages to her brother, on the Dual Thrones. I am the Aitah, she proclaimed, and appealed to his sense of religious duty – not to mention their love for their late mother. And, incredibly, he responded. Finally, it seemed, he had a firm hold on his Empires, and he could once more march north. The Savirai arrived in Tarena, much as they had only a few decades before. And much as they had then, they proceeded to wreak havoc.

The south of Tarena, Selessan, had always been one of the most firmly Maninist of the Gallasene lands, and it had remained so even through the war. They bore the brunt of this initial assault, and with only a few fortified compounds remaining intact – the rebuilding efforts had been incomplete, even after all this time – they could hardly resist the army of fifty thousand that crashed through their homes. Villages and towns burned, and soon, the Savirai arrived at the gates of Pamala. The city, though rebuilt by the Cyvekt, had been sacked again when retaken by the Gallasenes, and never fully recovered; now, again, it fell to the enemy, destroyed a third time in fifty years.

Continuing up the coast, the Savirai snatched the city of Gesta, and reduced the citadel overlooking the land from its high bluff after a week of siege. The Gallasene force in the north suddenly found itself caught between two armies – Ognyan's in the north, and Qasaarai's in the south. Knowing that they could not allow the two to combine if they hoped to remain alive, the Gallasene army positioned itself between the two, trying its best to frustrate both, delaying until their fleet could arrive to evacuate them.

Eventually, however, one side or the other would be able to catch them, and Ognyan's forces got there first. Though the Gallasenes had a much better chance against the Aitahist crusaders than they would have against the enormous Savirai host, they still had trouble facing an army that was in such high spirits, not to mention better led and fed. The Battle of the Sundown Moors ended the dance for good, punctuated by an Aitahist charge that utterly crushed the last few pockets of Gallasene resistance.

With that, the crusade could continue.

Now joined by the Savirai and Qasaarai, Ognyan and Kintyra led their combined forces deep into the heart of Gallat. In times long past, the Accans had stopped the Savirai advance into the heartland of the realm, but the Exatai had other problems to concern itself with, and a renewal of the War of the Empty Throne lay far from anyone's mind. Instead, opposed only by the last few scraps of the Gallasene army and the city militias in between, the allied army systematically reduced each of the Gallasene cities. Marona first, then Halandata. Finally, Gallasa itself, the ancient, spectacular heart of Maninism in the world, bombarded by catapults and finally entered and utterly ravaged by the fervent Aitahist horde.

It was common knowledge that the army had orders to immolate both the High Ward and the nobility, and every adviser urged the holy man to flee by ship. But he ignored their advice, declaring publicly that he would not abandon the city to its fate; and so he made his way to the fires with quiet dignity.

The Immolation did not win the Cult of the Goddess many friends in Gallat. And while friendship had hardly been the intent of the Aitahist crusade, the backlash would be immediate, and fierce. Men who had formerly never called themselves pious, let alone might have gone on crusade, took up arms, and the forces of the remaining League cities swelled considerably. Untrained and unequipped they might be, but the sheer size of these new armies could not be denied.

Perhaps more importantly, rebellion suddenly flared to life in many of the more Maninist regions in the various allies. The kings of Ereithaler and Anhalter, recent converts to the Aelonist branch of the religion, both backed away from their previous strident approval of Kintyra, going mysteriously silent. Peasants in Nech and former Seehlt took up arms, and though they would be mostly slaughtered, their principled stand did send a message. Likewise, rebels in the Astrian cities threatened the Dual Empire's holdings in the far south, though in the end, nothing came of it.

Back in Ognyan's homeland, his wife, the “Fowl Queen” Martuska continued to rule with an iron fist, suppressing what dissent did arise from the Immolation of the High Ward, and yet becoming a figure beloved by her people. Her acts of charity and kindness more than compensated for the rumors of dark perversions and murder that flitted about her, and if the latter scared some of the nobility into silence (or, if that failed, feeding them to her birds), then so be it. Contacts with the Ethir grew, and soon, a valuable new trading link to the Savirai was established. The former, of course, had recently converted to Aelonist Aitahism with the rest of the surviving countries in the north, and their religious commonalities certainly helped their cordiality.


To the far northwest, the Chapru continued in quiet isolation. New sacred guardians, mounted on the pillars that lined the paths through the wilderness, seemed to do their work marvelously – attacks from the barbaric Kesh fell considerably, and though some more skeptical people might assume that the poles did their jobs simply by acting as guideposts through the confusing woods, the faithful knew better. In a somewhat more disappointing turn of events, positive steps towards trade and contact with Yevel shriveled when that state fell completely to the Karapeshai – Yevel had been one of the first casualties in the War of Bone to the east.

Across miles of the taiga, the Sharhi continued to expand. Numerous formerly Evyni and Ming migrants settled in their southern lands, particularly in the heavily defended hill-city of Juba, which was intended to act both as a bulwark against potential Satar incursions, and as a port of entry for the numerous immigrants. New defensively-minded settlements became profligate across the south of the country, and the military remained in top form, expanding to the west. Meanwhile, explorers to the north had discovered the long River Tacha and the northern lakes' drainage ended in the exact same place – the shores of a body of saltwater. This, evidently, was a northern ocean, hitherto unknown to the peoples of the world, and quite foreign to the long-ranging Sharhi.

Still, no sign surfaced of Tin Tan Tar, by now dismissed by most as a myth.


In the eyes of the Trahana Emperor, war had already been declared. It was hardly his fault that the other side seemed unaware of this fact.

It had begun with their annexation of the Haina Empire. In a tale we have already recounted, the Haina had declined for a century, and their once glorious height faded increasingly into the distance past. The Trahana saw fit to finally end the peace that had been maintained between the two countries for centuries, and conquered their neighbors, but not before a stunning attack from the far north by the pirate king Paitló had struck a dagger into the ailing empire and made off with hundreds of chests full of loot.

As the Trahana had taken the Haina lands under their own protection, this was a gross violation of the borders of their empire. Or so it was rationalized. In truth, it seemed unlikely that anyone really regarded it this way. Put simply, the Trahana had become the greatest power in the region, and such a cheeky invasion of their corner of the world by a simple pirate could not be tolerated. Some kind of response would have to be given.

Bullying the Dehr into giving them the cities that state had conquered from the Haina, the Trahana expanded north, passing through several of the independent tribes, subduing them in campaigns that would be scarcely remembered by history but no less bloody for that. Their rampant expansionism was disguised, of course, as a simple campaign against the pirates and raiders who suffused the area, but no one could be fooled for long. Before the year was out, the Trahana marched on Saigh, capital of the Paitlóma Empire.

The Trahana Emperor had anticipated little resistance, and truthfully, the Paitlóma armies had little presence this far inland. By far, the greater enemy was disease, for while the Trahana had frequently encountered many of the diseases they faced here, malaria still posed a significant problem, especially to those soldiers from the uplands, who took ill far more easily than those who had lived nearer Normegha and Morghes. But the army pressed on, sapped though its numbers were, and they arrived near the city of Saigh, the one oasis of dry land in the marshes.

Of course, every scrap of that oasis had been built on. And so the Trahana took an unprecedented step – three enormous earthen dams to block the paths of the rivers feeding into the estuaries near Saigh. Though the material and manpower needed to construct them was costly, especially drawing from their illness-depleted forces, it soon proved completely worth it. The dams, far outside of the Paitlóma reconnaissance, escaped notice until the rivers began to dry up around the city. The water, redirected into nearby marshes or building into great lakes that flooded the surrounding woodlands, never reached the city, and what had been a roughly triangular island connected only by a single causeway soon became the point of a long peninsula.

Advancing across the dry land, the Trahana forces began to build earthen ramps up the sides of the walls of Saigh, and together with a marvelous array of siege engines, began to scale the walls. Their plans to fire the Paitlóma warships never quite materialized, and the wily pirate king himself escaped – to where, no one was quite sure – but the attack on the city itself proceeded quite smoothly, all things considered. Unfortunately, these troops, exhausted from the months of marching through mosquito infested swamps, had little inclination towards lenience. They disregarded the rather strict looting policies, and Saigh soon caught fire.

The Emperor corralled the wayward forces quickly enough, saving much of the city from the flames, but the laws of unintended consequences seemed to have chosen this particular war for their amusement. One of the earthen dams, though fairly well-constructed, finally burst without the watchful eyes of the army (now encamped in the city). The water flooded downriver in an enormous wash, undermining a whole section of the city walls, which collapsed, and washing out nearly a third of the docks of the city. Worse still, the great influx of water and silt, combined with the earlier damming, had fiddled with the insanely intricate currents around the city so much that sandbars existed where none had before. Even ships native to the estuary began to run aground, and after a few years, Saigh's trade would dwindle, especially as traffic between the great Dulama river systems withered with the imperial split.

In any case, the Trahana pursued Paitló's forces into their hinterland, and though no one quite caught sight of the king himself, they managed to capture the critical points. Though their success had been somewhat muted by the destruction around Saigh itself, the Empire had emerged, once again, triumphant.

While all this had happened, the other great powers of the west had hardly remained idle. The Vithanama under Avralkha had scarcely begun to rest on their laurels before the khagan mustered his forces once more. The enormous army of the empire, some fifty thousand strong, began to march – not west this time, but east, striking upriver from Tiagho, and arriving beneath the heartlands of the old Dulama highlands within a week.

The Kingdom of Dula had carved out its independence in the somewhat chaotic world following the fall of the Empire, of course, and it had maintained it simply through the inaccessibility of its position. At least, that was the official story – spread to maintain the illusion that they occupied an invulnerable position, certainly to the steppe nomads recently transplanted from the north. Of course, things were rarely as they seemed. For one thing, the Hai Vithana had hardly been steppe nomads to begin with, and for another, their armies were no more troubled by rugged terrain than any other.

And for a third, and perhaps most damning thing: the Dulama highlands were not inaccessible in the slightest.

For this was the heartland of the ancient empire, and even if a century had passed since it had been the true nervous center of the whole edifice, it had centuries before that of being the most populated, central location in the entire world. Its roads had been well sited, and the infrastructure thoroughly built up. Water and food were readily accessible to an invading army, and perhaps worst of all – the center of an enormous empire almost never had to worry about invasion. The walls around Dula were mostly ceremonial, and had scarcely been fortified since.

Avralkha's invasion thus carried the day rather easily. The city of Dula was his main target – indeed, he largely ignored the rest of the highlands, knowing that they would fall into place once he secured the center of the old empire. The capital, divided into its four quarters by great avenues, practically invited armies in. After penetrating the outer defenses, his soldiers simply walked down the roads to the citadel, where they constructed a series of siege lines inside the city. King Cairl fell to one of the besiegers' arrows, and the garrison soon surrendered. The enormous pyramid at the center of the world – and the city around it – had fallen to a foreigner for the first time in its history.

With these new lands falling to him, Avralkha spent the last years of his reign securing the last bits of his empire, and finally died, his spectacularly enormous empire falling to his son.

To the south, the Laitra had finally resumed their missionary activities at the urging of the Church proper, and made significant headway in converting the nearby Dziltocampal. Iralliam soon became the sole religion of that state, and though some conservatives still grumbled at the introduction of these northern beliefs, they could not really argue against submission to what was, to them, an unstoppable military and economic engine.

The last piece of the Dulama Empire continued its struggle against many foes, but not for the first time, the tide seemed to be turning in their favor. The northern mining city had finally fallen to their armies once more, Narannue forces being defeated in several relief efforts. Pushing the invaders back on all fronts, the Dulama seemed on the verge of a great triumph. Soon, they would threaten to advance on Dael and Limach again, and many in the empire dreamed of avenging their defeat at the hands of these northern upstarts.

Luckily for the Onnaran, his soldiers in the mountain fortresses took it upon themselves to try and avert this. Striking immediately south, they soon cut off the larger Dulama forces from their supply lines, and they were forced to withdraw. Of course, none of this had actually done anything to reverse the general course of the war, which had seen the Dulama mostly repel the minimal gains the alliance had made against them. Indeed, Ther hung on by a mere thread, sustained only by the aid of the Noaunnahanue, whose fleets continued to harass the corners of the Dulama.

Unfortunately for the alliance, the blockade seemed to affect the Dulama very little, if at all. Stalemate resumed, and a war increasingly seen by both sides as rather pointless dragged on.

For the Noaunnahanue, luckily, this war was only a sideshow to what they considered far more important – the general expansion of their territory westward. New sites had been surveyed in the mountains, and plans for an irrigation dam were drawn up – perhaps exactly the sort of thing which might provide the little state with the lifeblood it needed to expand further. The star charts had been completed, and relations with the Reokhar seemed to be on the upswing.

The Naranue, by contrast, had invested quite a lot in the war, and the steady string of reversals surely stung. Still, they had scored some successes, and they had begun to expand on the southern peninsula, finding a relatively open terrain where some hoped to establish a thriving colony, if they could only spare the funds.

Along the eastern shore of the Airendhe, isolated from all this drama, the Opul'annai continued in a somewhat lethargic fashion, intending to expand the timber trade. Indeed, much of the lumber came to be used across the sea in the Trahana, whose private merchant fleets had grown considerably in the wake of the Haina collapse, but many among the populace had seemingly resigned themselves to being a peculiarly independent glorified lumberjack camp. Naturally, this didn't sit at all well with the Opul'annai leaders, who seemed to dream of great things for their nascent little state, but they seemed locked in a bit of a rut.

Further to the south, the old Haina remnants had apparently been ignored by the rest of the world. The collapse of their state had not been followed by any Trahana attempts to reintegrate them in the growing empire. While some believed that perhaps they should voluntarily join the conquerors to continue the trade that had allowed them to survive at all, the draw of independence proved too great. And, predictably, the colonies soon faltered: independent merchants happily visited these ports, but ultimately could not supply enough to make them going concerns. The cities struggled, and finally gave up their former standards of luxury, becoming much more akin to the nearby peoples they had always sneered at.

A similar fate befell the most distant Haina colonies, though with even smaller populations of colonists, they faded much more quickly. The trade routes between the far west and Nakalani proved too lucrative to abandon completely, but the old province of Suran fell away from Haina mores entirely. A new native dynasty, Tsutonmerang, founded near the rising city of the same name, soon came to unite the southern part of the island under their own rule. Hopes of an economic revival based around the trade between east and west – well, that unfortunately faded along with the Haina overlords they had so recently expelled.

Instead, the Tsutonmerang linked far more readily with the people just to their east – where the state of Atsan had resided as long as anyone could remember. Even this trade could not be wholly relied on, though, for rumors spoke of war further up the peninsula.

Just to the south, the Castani peoples, too, began to coalesce around the city of Stato'i, but the Tsutonmerang had something of a head start on them, and the channel between the two looked worryingly small. Nevertheless, elites in the southern city were hopeful that some sort of arrangement could be reached.


It had been centuries prior that the Vischa and Vithana had split. Long centuries since the legendary three brothers had risen to defeat the evil lord who ruled the river valley and nearly destroyed his people three times over. The story went that they had united sword, bow, and spear, and slain him in combat – it had taken all three of them to overthrow the evil king, mighty as he was. Upon his grave, they began to bicker, and knew conflict was inevitable, and so they agreed to take the tribes with them – the eldest, of the sword, would stay in the valley, to shepherd the people to a new future. The bow and spear would wander east and southeast, into those lands known now as the Rath Satar and the Toasha, never to return.

So long had passed that no one really remembered whether the whole thing was a fabrication or not. Enough people told the story that it seemed it must be true, but such is the nature of legend, too. All the Vischa did have was a long list of khagans, from then to now, stretching over the centuries in an unbroken line. How strange, that this steppe people had lived for so long under one line – one sole line! – where their immediate neighbors had their system of brutal acclamation, overthrowing one another, having Princes of Star and Spear, Sun and Arrow.

No matter. Centuries under a single line, and it all threatened to come to an end.

The khagan Tafahut had been the last in a very long line, and beloved of his people. It had been he who had counseled caution to his chiefs and satraps when they desired to intervene in the Satar civil war. It had been he who had worked out the subtle agreements in the far south when the Hai Vithana made their migration. And it had been he who had presided over peace with the Adanai, and the prosperity that had given the river valley its local nickname – the “Vale of a Thousand Cities”. But, like most men, Tafahut had died, the years taking him when no arrow could.

And his heir, Algasun, was a nightmare. Not the brightest man to walk the world, he had spent most of his father's treasury in the first year of his reign, the Year of Ten Thousand Feasts, acquired the largest harem in the world, a harem that numbered more than many small towns, and, to top it all off, he had a habit of randomly murdering his subjects, including stringing them up by random parts for offenses such as “having an ugly face”. Naturally, this earned the ire of several people, including a band of his formerly loyal comitatus.

The band of soldiers murdered Algasun in a drunken sleep one night, and with no heirs, the empire suddenly felt quite headless. The leader of the rebels immediately declared himself the new khagan, and tried to seize control, but was rapidly deposed and murdered when it became clear that he, too, had little real quality. One thing led to another, and the various tribes who had ruled over constituent parts of the empire splintered off, forming a dozen breakaway khaganates. The great beast of the steppe had finally been slain.

Theirs had seemed a broken faith, devoid of promise or new thought. But not since the age of Jitanu had these Indagahori seen such a flowering of ideas and fervor. Some might have argued that what fueled this was merely the pragmatic sponsorship of the Daharai, who worried that they were losing ground to the other faiths – foreign belief systems that made no place for the orders. But regardless of the motive, the writings of Sadar brought new life to the old religion, and the Daharai responded magnificently to the revival.

In Epichirisi itself, they planned an enormous new temple, triangular, with three brazen spires rising about a soaring red-tiled dome. On the site of Kaltas Nire's death, it was intended to be a place of contemplation, and more symbolically, a place where any man could speak the truth without fear of reprisal. The Pillar of Truth would be a place of light and air, with an oculus and hundreds of great arched windows, and a small grove of trees in the middle, surrounded by mosaics from the greatest artists of the land.

Kaltas had died close to the docks, of course, and so the temple lay nearly on the shore. Its bronze-capped spires shone brilliantly at sunrise or sunset, and during these times they often served as an unintentional lighthouse, guiding sailors from a dozen miles out to the city by the sea.

In addition to the symbolism provided by the Pillar of Truth, the Republic backed up its constructions with an emerging evangelism, sending numerous monks to the southern islands, where they converted all but the very furthest islands of the Baribai in a scant couple of years. More of them worked with the Rihniti government to stamp out the heresies there, and though the local Aitahists mumbled that they were being discriminated against, the net effect was the stabilization of the state religion.

Some in the government hoped to send missionaries as far as Iolha, renewing ties with that country, and indeed, a few got through to the country. But the effort was complicated by a fairly recent decree of the Leunan Republic – quite simply, that the passage between east and west would be exclusively granted to Leunan merchants and the occasional licensed foreigner.

That decree incensed the surrounding peoples. Trade on the southern seas was a way of life for almost every country, and the sudden restriction of these routes led to a general outpouring of rage. Smuggling and criminal activity became rampant as prices spiked (though a legitimate non-Leunan route still existed in the form of cross-desert traffic, it would never be used for anything other than low volume goods), especially around the ports of Serkos and Cheidia. While an alliance between Leun and Cheidia meant the latter got off with only a stern warning, Serkos was not so lucky, being invaded by a Leunan army and quickly crushed.

The net effect of these events was to drive yet another wedge between the two great Republics – as if any more needed to be – and to make the east-west trade quite the problematic affair. Despite the capture of Serkos, smugglers continued to make their way through the ports of the Republic, bribing appropriate officials and generally risking capture to make hefty profits. The more legitimate Opulensi businessmen tended to focus their efforts on three shipping routes. That to the west received the bulk of the attention, as the Farubaida, despite sometimes frosty relations, was only too happy to continue trading. Unexpectedly, the move also pushed the Daharai and Farea, traditional enemies, closer together, as Farea had discovered that a new order in the east did not imply that they would escape their position of being repeatedly trodden upon.

A few smugglers tried to find a new route around Auona, but found only leagues and leagues of open water, no havens in sight, none too inviting to their fragile ships.

Lastly, many began to make the months-long trip to Mede, where traditional Opulensi goods were in high demand among settlers trying to recreate their old way of life on these foreign, tropical islands. Indeed, the newly settled Baribai islands soon swarmed with pigs and, unfortunately, rats, which wiped out much of the native flora and fauna – not that any of the settlers really noticed beyond complaining about the influx of rodents. Wheat and cattle were nearly impossible to raise there, though, and enormous prices were paid for the importation of grain and the occasional live cow – the meat, of course, would spoil on the long voyage out.

Otherwise, Daharai agents filtered through Spitos, trying to repair the damage of the old wars, and those of the centuries-long deforestation of their island. This proved harder than expected, though new land-management by the expanding monastic orders proved surprisingly effective in maintaining the fields and forests.

Though Rihnit seemed to have run up against a bit of a barrier to its own economic development, hitting the natural limits of the land, certain farmers began to cultivate cotton in addition to the more traditional crops. Though cotton proved incredibly water intensive, irrigation from the inland lakes more than sufficed. The recent exclusionary policy for foreign merchants – especially Aitahists – thus didn't impact the economy as much as might have been feared; after all, with the rising prices on Acayan goods, cotton suddenly became a high-value good in the central seas. But the policy did stymie the recent attempts to expand the schools in central Agnato into a fully-fledged university; after all, few scholars wanted to work in what was seen as a backwards corner of the world.

Indeed, a general lack of enthusiasm by the neighboring government left the nascent university in Leun struggling, too. It fell apart almost immediately, most of its teachers and students filtering away into little nooks and crannies – some going as far as Parthe, where the great Archives quietly thrived under continuous investment from the state.

Naturally, most of Leun's policies continued to favor their immensely powerful merchant class. Inflation had hit their currency hard, but they had largely compensated for it – among the shippers, that is. The landed aristocracy saw continuing restrictions of their privileges, and the ever-growing sport of bullfighting could only do so much to distract them. Rebellion, really, was inevitable. The final straw – a few minor land seizures along the southern coast of the mainland – drove them into arms against their government, and though they numbered relatively few at the start, the revolts gained momentum when the Republic attempted to ship off a few of the leaders into exile on the far eastern islands.

Ultimately, they seemed to have little hope of real success. Indeed, they barely controlled much of the Republic's food supply, as much of that production had been shifted to northern Auona and the Centa river valley.

Meanwhile, the merchants began to sponsor voyages to the far north to establish trade outposts there, and though they only had the capital to establish one instead of the two they had planned, it still marked a startling demonstration of the raw power of the Leunan Republic – able to force its way into a market – indeed, a whole region – where they had hitherto been absent. Even so, though they bought the land from the local Berathi and defended it successfully against those who might challenge it, they found the northern seas altogether less forgiving than the ones they had just come from, and it became difficult for them to press on. Indeed, even the Parthecans, who had begun to push further into the unknown in hopes of linking a northern trade route that might bypass the Leunan monopoly in the south, had difficulty reaching very far, only sailing a short way up the coasts of the native Katka.

The closely contested three-fronted expansion of civilization into the wilds of the Berathi had slowed, as the Lesans did not want to spark a war with either side, Iolha felt fairly content with their current gains, and the Savirai, as we have seen, focused elsewhere. An uneasy peace took hold.

In Parthe proper, development of the north continued apace, and while the voyages of discovery faltered in the face of continuing awful weather (what looked to be a potentially perennial problem here), the northern half of the island saw renewed development. Plantation crops had a harder time here, but the cultivation of foodstuffs spread across the island, making up for the near extinction of food crops in the southern part of the land. The Leunan monopoly on trade to the west threatened to strangle the nascent Parthecan shipping industry, which instead focused its efforts on mingling with the Lesans, and to a lesser extent the tribes in the distant northwestern lands.

The death of the lady-king Condom at the end of the decade threw Parthe into chaos.

Truthfully, the succession should have been quite straightforward. Prince Joffer was the king's rightful heir, and he had been raised to succeed her from his birth to now. But his absence on an anti-pirate campaign left the field open, and Prince Cezdoros stumbled into the crown, quickly regaining his bearings and exiling those who might have dissented with his new acquisition. Joffer's return from campaign threatened to split the island kingdom into two, as the “Foreign Prince” Joffer had a much better claim than his half-brother (though, strictly speaking, Cezdoros was not his brother at all, due to the complicated arrangements around the old King Condom's gender... issue), and could field a considerable array of support should it come to blows.

Joffer quickly challenged the king to single combat, and as their mutual (...nominally...) father (also nominally) King (?) Condom had gained the throne in just such a fashion, the latter was obliged to accept. Of course, Cezdoros was not above a little treachery himself, and though Joffer quickly proved the superior fighter, Cezdoros used a poisoned blade, which meant, in the end, both ended up dying – though Joffer lasted a half-day longer, taking the coveted title of “shortest reigning Parthecan monarch”. The crown, at the insistence of the older Princeling Garun (brother of Condom), who had twice refused it now, passed to Wertus of the Dascawen dynasty, son of the late king, and an almost universal choice, though his youth made it difficult to tell how well suited he would be for the position as the years went by.


The contrast between the lands north and south of the Kothai could not be more pronounced. North, the valleys of scrub and salt opened to a wide plain, with the Had River cutting through it like a brown serpent, carrying tons of silt from the mountains to the sea. North, the dust hung in the air, leaving a dry taste in the mouth, and the rain fell seldom, if ever. Slaves toiled under the sweltering sun, masked men giving them commands, and caring not for their pain. And south – well, the Redeemer had been south, as had some of his army before. But many of them were new to this strange country, with the Haunted Forest of the Zyeshar, with the upright castles in hidden vales, and broad green estates stretching to the sea.

But though the terrain might have been unfamiliar, the foe was all too similar. The self-proclaimed Redeemer Ialeras, now de facto ruler of the Hanakar region, had challenged the exatas of Kartis, proclaimed him weak, indecisive, and ultimately a failure. He had raised an army in rebellion, and dared the Redeemer to march south to face him personally.

And so Kartis had obliged. The enormous Kothari army had left the valley, confident the protection of the Ayasi would deter any attacks from the Farubaida, and intending to snuff out this trouble before it could spread. Ialeras had not anticipated this decisive a move – assuming the Redeemer would have been far too fearful of a Carohan betrayal, but he had underestimated the resolve of the Redeemer. The message seemed clear: no one would be allowed to challenge the Kothari Exatai and get away with it. At least, no one within the bounds of the state.

In truth, the sheer numbers meant the war would never really be in question. Two Kothari armies marched in tandem down the Hanakar peninsula, and the Kothari fleet, newly revitalized after its failure in the War of Subal, tracked around the coast, raiding the cities there. Though the fleet did not quite succeed in taking any of the principal Hanakar cities, it distracted them considerably, forcing him to bleed off thousands of soldiers from his main force. Even when he did, cleverly, manage to catch one of Kartis' armies a day's march from the other, the imbalance was still quite pronounced, and he could only fight it to a stalemate before the other arrived late in the day and turned the tide.

In the end, only Ialeras himself – and a few choice lieutenants – had that much to fear. The surviving rebel forces surrendered one by one, and the false Redeemer was imprisoned and eventually executed. Things seemed to return to normalcy very quickly.

That held true in Palmyra, too, where things quickly settled in an all-too-familiar routine. Though freeholds and communes dominated the northern shore, they did not have the capital to really compete with the southern farms on a large scale. Though slavery had been largely abolished, wage-slavery took its place in the southern foothills, and the old Hiut nobility continued along much as they had before. Certain disputes turned violent, though no one could really substantiate rumors that men from Doral or the Rock Tribe had crossed the border to interfere.

The resumption of peace did mean the exchange of knowledge – rather limited during the war, for obvious reasons – could flourish once again. Astronomical tracts filtered from the Kothari to the Farubaida and back again, annotated with new discoveries and categories, including a popular book that detailed the planets' orbits around Haiao in terms of great circles through the heavens – used to predict their motion with as much precision as (almost) anyone of the day cared about. More practical for the use of peasants and rulers alike, the efficient water mill design popularized in the last century south of the border started to filter into the Farubaida as well, where it became a common fixture on the roadsides of southern Helsia.

Work on the Red Temple in Sahelihaia proceeded somewhat slowly, only being capped off near the end of the decade, its spectacular dome rising above the rest of the city. Other temples rose in pale imitation throughout northern Helsia, but none could quite compare – in the works, however, was another temple to the Aitah in Caroha itself, planned to be “the most wondrous structure this world has yet seen.” Naturally, it remained stuck firmly in the planning stages. Given the thoroughly Aitahist bent of the Sarafaio, very little of the religious patronage went to the Iralliamite temples in southern Helsia, a fact which did not escape the attention of the outside world.

In any case, much of the resources of the Farubaida were directed towards infrastructural improvements, repairing most of the damage from the Subal War in short order, and restoring Dremai to its former glory.

A series of expeditions was launched to explore the far south – and to establish trade links, and proselytize the native peoples there, but the ships found it more difficult going than anticipated, and the allocation of funds had quite simply been far too paltry. One of the expeditions made it as far as distant Atsan, where they acquired a few trinkets, and an Aitahist priest decided to remain behind to attempt to instruct the locals, but ultimately it led to very little. A second, more manageable route was discovered to the isle of the Ilfolk, whose own ships had been spreading through their island chain for some time now, expanding their religion to the southernmost isles – but neither Carohan nor Ilfolk ship discovered anything to the south of here but endless, depressingly monotonous seas.

A much more pressing issue reared its ugly head quite suddenly. The Farubaida had never really been quite the same since the ill-fated Accan Expedition, which had resulted in a massive power swing toward the Helsian factions. Hundreds of minor disputes in the years between had almost always quietly died away, but the Seshweay elements of the Farubaida grew increasingly frustrated with the continuing inaction with regard to the Satar threat. Naturally, the civil war in the Karapeshai Exatai only a few years prior had been seen as a golden opportunity, and the now-prominent dispute they had with their Cyvekt vassals seemed like yet another.

The Sarafaio ignored both.

An increasingly hawkish wing of the Senate clamored for war once more, insisting that they should not let the ancient enemy build to full strength again. Some even advocated secession, claiming the Ayasi would serve as a better protector, if the Sesh could retain its rights. Of course, cooler heads prevailed in the end, pointing out that the Ayasi, too, had done nothing, and so, they simply seethed. Thus, the new hawkish faction had very little immediate impact – all it really did was serve as a reminder that the regional divides of the Farubaida remained prominent.


It seemed oddly appropriate that, in a time of religious revival everywhere else, the Church of Iralliam would finally rouse itself from what had been an almost total slumber. A newly elected Grandpatriarch Aisen took the reigns of what had been a fairly decrepit Church, lethargic in its activities, accused by everyone from the low Sokar to the advisers of the Ayasi himself of rampant corruption. Everyone knew that the Grandpatriarchy passed between relatively few men in Opios, and that, without much exception, the Patriarchies passed mostly between friends or relatives. And it was even worse on a local level.

Aisen set out to change all that, with a sweeping series of reforms, starting at the top, where he cleaned house somewhat, appointing based solely on merit. He set up a new series of offices – the Exarchies – to administrate on a local level, prying apart systems that had been anciently circular, rooting out embezzlement and abuse of power. Those with a keen sense of politics did not miss that his veto power over the Patriarchs' appointment of these Exarchs amounted to a great amassing of power in the office of the Grandpatriarchy, but it was nevertheless a welcome relief from centuries of ossification.

Much of the stored wealth of the Church was directed to a new school for the clergy to be located immediately adjacent to the great church in Opios itself, a Seminary with no equal in the rest of the world. The Grandpatriarch followed this with a series of decrees and missives intended to vastly expand the targets of proselytizing within the lands where the Church was already present, but these unfocused and frankly unfunded attempts led almost nowhere. The various fronts Iralliam battled on – the Sesh, Helsia, the south and the west – all had firmly entrenched opposing religions centuries old, and only dedicated efforts would really chip away at these bulwarks.

More successfully, Aisen took over the Order of the Faith with the consent of the Ayasi, and later pushed for expansion in the monastic sphere. Iralliam had never been a particularly monastically inclined religion, especially in the Empire itself – almost all Iralliamite monasteries existed in the Kothari Exatai, or in the far west as a result of evangelism among the Dulama and their neighbors. Aisen aimed to change that, and though official patronage remained fairly low-key, several began to spring up in the Uggor-held Kotthorns, as well as in the southern jungles.

On the other hand, one particularly problematic piece was a new policy of intolerance for the old traditions of ancestor worship, particularly within the bounds of the old Moti heartland. This infuriated many of the Godlikes, whose ancient primacy had remained unassailable since their conception. Protesting to the Ayasi, many of them barred the new clergymen from their estates that Aisen tried to send their way, and the religious standoff seemed like it could burst into violence with only a little prodding from either side.

It certainly was not the ideal situation for the Ayasi First-Lerai, who had rather little interest in the religious affairs of the Empire, and who had worked hard to shore up the imperial relationship with the Godlikes for some time.

For the most part, the Ayasi sought to ignore these developments, instead putting most of his energies into strengthening the martial aspects of the Empire. He toured the Empire repeatedly, visiting various garrisons, and insisting on increased discipline and rigor at every one of them, and appointed many of his most senior officers on merit, particularly the commander of the northern forces, a former commoner by the name of Birun. Further military reforms included a streamlining of the communications system, and a standardization of equipment.

In a true tragedy, he also insisted on cutting back on feast and festival expenditures, and the outpouring of Imperial wealth towards church-building and other such domestic beautification efforts fell away.

Perhaps the most surprising development for the Holy Moti Empire lay in First-Lerai's increasing acceptance of the “Tamed Satar” in the Satara, who he allowed to take up arms if they were willing to serve in his armies. The longstanding tradition of repressing them appeared to have fallen by the wayside, and the influx of new military manpower – particularly of such a martial population – made complete sense for the growing imperial military.

Meanwhile, in the stream of otherwise nondescript and boring supplicants, a single petitioner came before the Ayasi in court to ask an alliance: a member of some distant city state by the ugly name of Irnat, whose people were locked in war with their overlords in Parna.

The neighboring state of Jipha took a somewhat more active role in combating the spread of Iralliam – though not in any sort of military sense. Instead, they spoke to the old ties they had with Kilar, building monuments to the great Jitanu, and generally sponsoring the many Indagahori monasteries and temples that existed throughout the land. Temple Dao, the old center of religious practice between Jipha and Kilar, practically buzzed with activity, as thousands of new priests and monks emerged, ready to spread the good word to the hinterland.


Ephasir's landing had caught almost everyone by surprise. Taexi had anticipated that the Prince of Bone would remain in distant Cyve, and use the remoteness of his island to hold out as long as possible. But instead, the Cyvekt king had arrived in Taloré itself, a city that, while otherwise insignificant, had been an early target of the Redeemer's army as well. Taexi himself had stayed near the mouth of the Einan, mustering his force there. Instead, it was a relatively unaccomplished Prince of the Storm, Aroech, who would strike the first few blows of the War of Bone.

Despite being unimportant, and charged with what had been viewed as a minor task, Aroech had a large host at his disposal – almost 40,000 strong, all told, an army that outnumbered the entirety of Ephasir's forces. But even with this knowledge, and even with the knowledge that Ephasir would dig in and fortify his own position, Aroech hemmed and hawed for some time, debating whether he should attack the Prince of Bone himself, or wait for the reinforcement of his superior.

Taexi, of course, did not hesitate in the slightest. Gathering what soldiers he did have already, he immediately set sail down the coast, and landed near Ephasir's army with a further thirty thousand, and gave orders for Aroech to join him. All told, the Satar numbered some seventy thousand – twice what the Cyvekt had brought to the field, and better armed and trained, as well.

No matter. Ephasir sent out a continuous stream of challenges to Taexi, proclaiming that he would defend the Aitahists in his land to his last breath, and that he would stand against the Redeemer not only now, but in the afterlife as well. It was intended to infuriate Taexi.

Taexi was not fooled.

Instead, he attempted to lure Ephasir into a trap of his own. With the considerable Satar spy network, he sent a variety of double agents into the camp, feeding the Prince the notion that Taexi's armies lay just out of reach of the Cyvekt encampment. Ephasir would be lured into a trap there, where the Satar cavalry would charge and easily overrun his soldiers as they lingered too long outside of their fortifications. It was intended to play on Ephasir's relative inexperience in battle.

Ephasir was not fooled, either.

And so the two armies stood, parallel from one another. The Satar drew up in ranks, with the host of cataphracts and light horse in the very forefront, intended to intimidate the Cyvekt army. Behind them, rank upon rank of infantry, from Accan pikes to Satar men-at-arms. All around them, guarding the rear and the flanks, swarmed Taudo skirmishers, who were familiar with the lightly wooded terrain, and ready to fend off any Cyvekt flanking movement. After surveying his opponent for a moment, Taexi ordered forward his cavalry and heavy infantry.

Ephasir stood atop the Long Hill for which the battle would later be named. At its base, chevaux de frise stood in large arrays, wooden stakes to deter a cavalry charge, but they seemed as though they had not yet been completed – large gaps remained through which the Satar could charge. Taexi immediately knew that the Cyvekt were attempting to concentrate his forces so that they could fight on a narrow front – mentally, he complimented the young lad. Atop the hill, arranged in alternating groups, the Cyvekt levies and spears stood, dressed in heavy furs, though it was only a fairly cool day for autumn. The Cyvekt cavalry remained hidden, though Taexi's scouts had told him they lurked behind the Hill – his force was by far the more mobile, and he could likely counter any attempt they made at a flanking maneuver.

The Satar cavalry broke into a canter, and they started to charge the base of the hill, though pacing so that their infantry support could keep up. With luck they could hit the levies and break them before they could even –

The cavalry plunged into a series of hidden pit traps. The horses, startled, started to scream when they realized that their hooves had also run clean through layers of beehives that the Cyvekt had cleverly hidden within – soon a swarm of the angry insects surrounded the animals, driving them completely mad, and even the experienced Satar horsemen failed to keep their mounts wholly under control. As they halted in confusion, the ranks behind them began to pile up, and the Cyvekt spears charged from the heights of the hill.

It immediately became apparent whey they had worn such thick clothing – it provided excellent protection from the stings of the bees. The Cyvekt fought like men possessed, and the Satar cavalrymen desperately dismounted and began to fight hand to hand, but they were caught at a disadvantage as their opponents charged down the hill in a great mass, pushing them back into their own forces.

Disgusted, Taexi directed his infantry to attack around the melee. In a great charge, they overcame the spiked timbers, which served far less well against men than they did against horses, and they began to engage the Cyvekt in a long line, while their rear ranks flung thousands of arrows into them.

Seeing the battle turn again, Ephasir knew that his soldiers would not be able to stand long against the Satar veterans. With a great shout, he rallied his cavalry, who surged over the hill and into the Satar infantry lines, carrying them forward with the weight of their charge. Once again, it seemed as though a glimmer of hope shone for the invaders – the Satar began to pull back, their forces exhausted, while their cavalry fell away at the combined assault of sting and spear.

Finally, Taexi committed his last reserve: a force of cavalry and infantry under his personal command, that cantered forward to meet Ephasir's cavalry head on. Seeing his foe, Ephasir plunged towards Taexi, screaming a battle challenge at the Redeemer, but fate would have it that the two never actually met on the battlefield. Instead, this last charge of the Satar army proved the final straw. Though it was bravely fought on the Cyvekt part, and indeed, they had inflicted more casualties than they could ever have hoped for, nearly routing a force two and a half times their size, the experience and mettle of the Satar regulars proved too great. No matter how brave, the Cyvekt levies would never be able to stand against that, and without them, their regulars numbered only ten thousand.

Ephasir was slain by many arrows that day, falling from his horse, and even pincushioned as he was, managed to strike down a dozen foes about him. But fell again he did, his bone mask cloven in , and when their commander was slain, the rest of the Cyvekt army broke.

The rest of the war proceeded much as could be expected. Under the aegis of Zelarri, offerings of peace in exchange for conversion and fealty were accepted by dozens of Cyvekt commanders. Taexi had already seized Yevel, and his forces in the northern islands easily subdued Sarkanda. With Ephasir dead and his army broken, the combined Exatai's fleet combated the Cyvekt in a dozen battles that would bear no name. The Battle of the Long Hill had been decision enough for this war.

Indeed, only a tiny part of Taexi's armies would ever have to land on Ederrot itself. There, every lord who remained true to the old faith and king was slain – though of course, the belief in Aitah would continue among some of the peasants, seeing as it was nearly impossible to detect, let alone root out.

The fall of the cuCyve dynasty would not be complete. Ephasir's eldest son, Fulwarc III, still only a child, would be masked Prince of Bone in Ephasir's stead. At Zelarri's behest, it was in the Satar style, and the child was no sooner masked in silver than he swore eternal fealty to Taexi; his brother Jahan would be taken to be raised in Sartasion. For the Redeemer's pardon, Zelarri organized the peace terms, and only a few particularly stubborn lords in the north still resisted the new regime. Feared attacks form the Holy Moti Empire and the Farubaida o Caroha never materialized; indeed, the world's order seemed secure.

Of course, Taexi had yet to deal with the intrusion of the Dual Empire back onto the Kern Sea, nor the fall of the High Ward. All this would have to come later. For now, he could revel in his triumph.

The Tribe of Bone was his.


The heavens were different, somehow.

He had walked to the balcony from his room, a walk that grew longer and longer as he aged. He had to make it now bent and broken, his back curved at nearly a right angle, the pain when he stood straight too great to bear. It shamed him, to have become so old. He could remember being a young man, once. He had fought in a war then, and he liked to joke to his grandsons that he had fought three gods and won. And he had seen those same grandsons run off and die in yet another war. And through it all, the walk to this place seemed to grow longer.

One day, he knew, he would not be able to look at the stars anymore. But not yet.

And he could not place what was wrong today. He knew his memory was going, that he lost track of stories as he told them, and that occasionally he would forget he had to use the toilet until he soiled himself – but surely he was not so forgetful as to forget how the stars themselves were arranged! But he could not place it.

He checked every one of the great constellations – nothing. Hunter, serpent, fire, and wheel. All the same. The Veil, burning dully on the horizon, its light obscuring everything around it. It looked like any other day of spring, when the Veil hovered there, just on the edge of sight. Nothing.

At that moment – and he would swear it for years to come, even through the derision of his last surviving grandson, and the polite nodding of his granddaughter-in-law – at that very moment, a breeze seemed to come from the east, like the kiss of Spring opening her first rose.

And at that very moment, a star came to life in the heavens.

It had never been there before, neither dull nor bright. It had simply never existed. It did not fit in any constellation. It thrummed to life with a piercing white, and even as he watched, it became brighter than anything around it. It became the brightest star in the sky. And even as he scrambled for his stylus, and even as he nearly tripped and shattered his hip, and even as he marveled at the letters he would have to exchange with his colleagues in the rest of the Farubaida, and in the Exatai, he wondered.

A new star, born today. What did it mean?

Something in the heavens had changed.


Maps:


Cities


Economic


Religious


Political


OOC:

Apologies for the semi-long wait. I think this still counts, as I didn't actually start updating until Wednesday.

Let's aim for the next due date being any time on July 20th, unless there are objections?

Here's the unaltered satellite-image map. There are probably some inaccuracies with it, but generally it's very close to how I think of the world (I haven't expanded it sufficiently to meet up with new cloak):



Speaking of the new cloak, feel free to name any new features around you.

Oh my god.

This is the epitome of Western civilization's ways of procrastination.

Excellent. Beautiful.

Though I'd like to point out that it's Tsutongmerang, and that the dynasty name is Mekhan.

I love the update, and the satellite-image map is fantastic.

So, the Dulama still seem like a viable option. Lets start the application process!

OOC: I'm gonna miss you as Cyve Lucky

Bair_the_Normal said:

Excellent. Beautiful.

Though I'd like to point out that it's Tsutongmerang, and that the dynasty name is Mekhan.

Click to expand...

Shoot, sorry! I thought I'd triple checked that, but I'll definitely fix it when I get back to the maps.

Tambien said:

So, the Dulama still seem like a viable option. Lets start the application process!

Click to expand...

As for applications, I'd settle for just a solid conversation to sort out any questions you have and see how you'd feel out the Dulama. We can sort that out by PM.

Excellent update. I have a whole backlog of things to write, but you should see something major by the end of the weekend. Diplomacy impending.

For the record, I have no problem with Lucky continuing to play Cyve if he wants to, with the understanding that all major decisions must be cleared with me first, at least for the next two turns.

At least for my part, I want to read about the life and death of Ephasir, and I think you still belong in the North, Lucky. Also if you want, we can finish that flashback story with Fulwarc and Avetas. Now that you're not my rival anymore I think it'll be easier to work together.

Nice map!
Also, Vithanama looks threatening. o.O

Who is like God? What can compare to the sublime majesty of Opporia? Our sacred faith teaches that there are two Gods and two Gods only, our Lord, and the Enemy of all that exists. It is to our Lord alone that we prostrate in adoration and worship that through the glorification of Opporias name, the shroud of darkness may be lifted from the eyes of a world which remains in so many places shackled to ignorance. It is only to Opporia that we offer sacrifice, that we may receive the his divine light within our souls.

Yet even within the Holy Moti Empire, where the true religion is rightly uplifted and from where the light of Opporia has flown to many far off lands, there remain some who with recalcitrant minds continue to practice certain falsehoods. The practice of worshipping ones ancestors, of sacrificing to them, of prostrating before their shrines in adoration is contrary to the virtue of true religion. Do not those who do these things acknowledge Opporia as Lord, whom all men must serve? Do those who do these things deny the truth that there are only two Gods, and two Gods only? Those amongst the high lords of the Uggor who retain the practice of worshipping the ancestors are in error, and we call them, we do not force them, to cease their idol worship out of love for them so that they enter into the light of truth. We ask them to freely take hold the mantle of truth that they may see the glory of Opporia in its fullness, and upon their passing find Irallia, and stand at our Lords sight in the host of heaven.

The Church does not propose to them, reject your ancestors and cast them off. The veneration of ancestors, granting to them due honour, petitioning them to intercede with the true God for men on earth, offering sacrifice to Opporia in their name. All these things are admirable, and accepted as legitimate by the Church. All that the Church teaches, what it is asking men to freely reject, is that this due honour does not degenerate into worship, in order that those who profess to uphold the faith of Iralliam do so in truth. We do not bring a sword to force the "godlikes" to do this, only the light of Opporia that they may freely choose to cast off the shackles of error in knowledge, or retain their false practice. Yet by the fruits of their actions in response to truth shall we know their hearts, if they bring violence where there is only peace, if they bring hatred where there is only fraternal love for them... then they are serving not themselves, or vain mortal egos, but rather the enemy who would bring only death, and who ever-waking seeks the ruin of the Church.

Can't wait to see those overlays on that amazing satellite map NK!

NK updates are always soooo awesome!

Awesome indeed. It's a very interesting situation that we find ourselves in.

Awesome update, and epic satellite view map! I found it funny that the north dissolved into war right when Seehlt died. Have fun with that, guys, I'm moving south!

Castani (adj. Castanian)
http://i.imgur.com/F9NTDe6.jpg (live inside red circle)
Society: Theocratic society. The main religious figures rule the nation, with wealth dividing those not in religious positions.
Lineage: Patriarchy
Values: Religion and family are valued above everything. Whatever nation the people belong to comes third, as religion and nation are tied directly. The Castani are taught from a young age to put the family before themselves.
Religion: The dominant religion among the Castani is Ca'anoi, a polytheistic religion with three sects. The three sects-Islander, Coastal, and Mainland, vary among their mythology, although they share gods.
Language: Casta'lai (the language of the Castani). There are small variations among nations and regions, but the language is practically the same.
Mythos:
-Masoku: the sect of predominant in the small islands. The creation myth is based upon the god of the sea, Makai, who was alone in the world with only his fish as his company. He created people in his likeness and land for them to be on, thereby creating the world.
-Tasamu: the mainland sect of Ca'anoi. Tasamu has a similar story, but claims that all the world was once only land, trees, water, and sky. The god of all gods, Tasa'i, was lonely, and crafted a family out of the sand for himself. This family came to life, and became his fellow gods and goddesses. The gods then created people, animals, and many more things to show their appreciation for the world.
-Pala'ui: the sect of Ca'anoi that dominates the coastal region. This sect takes a different approach. The godess of the sky, Pawali, and Makai were clashing over who was rightfully the owner of the land, which was caught between them. In this process, they destroyed a large swath of land along the edge, which became the coastline. In reparation for this, Tasa'i forced the two gods to declare the land as sacred to neither of them, and create people to populate the land.
Economic Base: Fishing and trade are the bases of the economy.
Nation Names : Stato'i, Mani'ao, Cavâtai
Person Names: Tasa'ui, Minai, Hiajo, Viasta, Saca'i
Place Names:
-Maka'ina: largest island in the Maka'ini chain
-Maka'ini: island chain between northern and southern landmasses within the range of the Castani
-Tasa'i'ina: northern landmass in the range of the Castani
- Casta'ina: southern landmass in the range of the Castani
-Casta'oau: the seas around the Castanian land

Notes on language:
Apostrophes denote words describing or possessing each other (e.g. Maka'ina=Makai+aina=Land of Makai). Names are generally the exception to this (e.g. Tasa'i), although titles gained are generally made from actual words.

Specific words:
Aina=land (apostrophized form: 'ina)
Roau=sea (apostrophized form: 'oau)
Volai=language, speech (apostrophized form: 'lai)
Castani=The People (apostrophized form: Casta' or 'astani)
Tani=person (apostrophized form: tan' or 'ani)
Vastu=city (apostrophized form: Va' or 'astu)
Foma=star (apostrophized form: Fo' or 'oma)
Jotai=sight, vision, dream (apostrophized form: Jo' or 'oiai)
Pavus=priest (apostrophized form: Pa' or 'avus)
'esati=high, tall, important (adjective, no additional apostrophized form)

Alphabet:
A C E F H I J L M N O P R S T U V
Accented letters (e.g. Ê) used on occasion to denote he sound (e.g. E as in very, Ê as in seed); adjectives and nouns can be compounded with apostrophes; apostrophes used in names on occasion. Word endings do not denote gender, and certain names are both genders. Plurality shown with the last letter duplicated and separated from the word by an apostrophe.

OOC: At Jehoshua's suggestion, Iralliamite clergy now wear white masks with bronze edges as standard (rather than plain wooden ones).

I like the new map

Beautiful! Amazing! Could I please ask for suggestions for a nation to take over? Out the way, harmless, something I can slowly eke out, perferably with opportunities for expansion?

Atsan in the south is unoccupied, out of the way and has room for expansion and future development.

Jehoshua said:

Atsan in the south is unoccupied, out of the way and has room for expansion and future development.

Click to expand...

Precisely why I started a new culture down there