Immaculate
unerring
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2003
- Messages
- 7,623
We agree. get ready for some super fine ass woolen textiles- we gots the BEST!
EltNESIII: Some Assembly Required
- Thread starter Eltain
- Start date
Eltain
Deity
From: Cyseean Imperium
To: Phoolan Devi
daaaaaaaaaamn!
OOC: Please include in your orders what your SP is being spent on- don't just refer to it as EP, that confuses me to no end, and I'm pretty darn forgetful sometimes.
To: Phoolan Devi
daaaaaaaaaamn!
OOC: Please include in your orders what your SP is being spent on- don't just refer to it as EP, that confuses me to no end, and I'm pretty darn forgetful sometimes.
Eltain
Deity
DOH.
From: Spartan Empire
To: Ilium
You offer us trade, but then blockade our homelands, and kidnap our Princess? War. War, you hear us? This act of wanton aggression deserves nothing better. We will rally our allies in the Aegean and we will have your heads on pikes lining the road to your pathetic city.
From: Spartan Empire
To: Ilium
You offer us trade, but then blockade our homelands, and kidnap our Princess? War. War, you hear us? This act of wanton aggression deserves nothing better. We will rally our allies in the Aegean and we will have your heads on pikes lining the road to your pathetic city.
Abaddon
Deity
Immaculate
unerring
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2003
- Messages
- 7,623
The hands on my face are gentle
The hands on my face are gentle, comforting, motherly; and that, perhaps is the worst part. Part of me wants to just surrender to them; they are so reassuring, like the hands of my mother. But they want me to die.
A loop of braided leather holds my head against the stone. It loops around my neck, and behind my head, passes into a hole in a large piece of slate. The stone is wet, slick with seaweed and salty ocean spray. The priestess holds the end of the leather noose in one hand, pulling it up to her chest to force my head back to the stone. With the other she caresses my face and whispers soft soothing words.
Each wave washes over my body as the tides come up; I struggle with each one as they lap at my ears and cheeks, threatening to enter my mouth and nose. I close my eyes against the salty burn of the sea water and open them between each lapping wave to see the stars above me, the souls of my ancestors, watched over by the goddess Mayrei. The priestess tells me I will be among them soon.
I try to relax; I will soon be at a better place. Looking past my toes, at the two priestesses that hold my feet in place, I can see my parents. My mother is joyful, pride evident on her face at her son being selected for the harvest sacrifice. My father is less sure, doubt and anger evident on his face. I try to smile at them but a particularly large wave washes over me.
I thrash, all thoughts of acceptable and calm gone now. The water was in my nose and for a moment I knew what I would feel as I drowned to death. NO! I could not allow this. I struggle, arching my back and bending my knees with all my childhood strength. For a second I manage to loosen myself but the high-priestess jerks the noose tight, the lower ranking priestesses hold my arms and legs down in the water. They caress me, softly whispering to be calm and accept the tides.
Another wave and I struggle again, sputtering and coughing. The tide is coming quickly and even between the waves I am up to my earlobes. I pull as hard as I can with my left arm, feeling that the young novice priestess there might be weakest but she moves her shin onto my arm, burying it in the seaweed and the sand. She shoots the high-priestess a quick questioning look but the high-priestess doesn’t notice her. She is invoking Mayrei now, one hand on the noose cord and the other high to the sky. She is asking that the goddess accept their sacrifice… accept my death.
The waves are higher now and I am growing desperate, coughing and sputtering for breath. I have to arch my shoulders against the noose to even get a breath between the waves now. I cannot hear what the priestess is saying; my ears are covered by Mayrei’s tide. I take one look at my parents. I know it will be my last. My mother is so proud, hugging my older sister and pointing at me with a smile wider than I have ever seen. I am angry with her- I am only seven summers- why would you raise me only to watch me die? What is wrong with you? My father is pacing furiously, anger evident on his face. A priestess is talking with him, gesturing to me but he is ignoring her. I want him to come and save me. I scream, “FATHER!!!” I had wanted to say more but the waters rush into my throat. This time it has reached my lungs. I cough and sputter, choking. Choking! I want to scream again but I cannot draw breath. Finally my chest quivers and I spout up the water. I feel hot. I can hardly see. My father is a dim figure, distant, red and furious. He is trying to break from the grasp of the villagers. I want him to save me. We can run away together, away from these crazy women and their heartless goddess. I am only seven; how can Mayrei want me to die? THEY'RE GOING TO DROWN ME. DROWN ME and EAT ME! DADDY SAVE ME.
...another wave...
...distant now, above me...
...the sea is warm...
...another wave...
For a brief moment the tide recedes and I see the stars clearly. Twinkling. Peacefully. My ancestors. My death. Another wave. My eyes stay open, watching the night sky through the tide. The water is inside me burning my chest but distantly. I no longer feel it. Above me the stars. Twinkling and clear. I will live forever. With Mayreas.
(i am really happy with how this story turned out- i've never drowned but i've come close and well... i hope you like it)
The hands on my face are gentle, comforting, motherly; and that, perhaps is the worst part. Part of me wants to just surrender to them; they are so reassuring, like the hands of my mother. But they want me to die.
A loop of braided leather holds my head against the stone. It loops around my neck, and behind my head, passes into a hole in a large piece of slate. The stone is wet, slick with seaweed and salty ocean spray. The priestess holds the end of the leather noose in one hand, pulling it up to her chest to force my head back to the stone. With the other she caresses my face and whispers soft soothing words.
Each wave washes over my body as the tides come up; I struggle with each one as they lap at my ears and cheeks, threatening to enter my mouth and nose. I close my eyes against the salty burn of the sea water and open them between each lapping wave to see the stars above me, the souls of my ancestors, watched over by the goddess Mayrei. The priestess tells me I will be among them soon.
I try to relax; I will soon be at a better place. Looking past my toes, at the two priestesses that hold my feet in place, I can see my parents. My mother is joyful, pride evident on her face at her son being selected for the harvest sacrifice. My father is less sure, doubt and anger evident on his face. I try to smile at them but a particularly large wave washes over me.
I thrash, all thoughts of acceptable and calm gone now. The water was in my nose and for a moment I knew what I would feel as I drowned to death. NO! I could not allow this. I struggle, arching my back and bending my knees with all my childhood strength. For a second I manage to loosen myself but the high-priestess jerks the noose tight, the lower ranking priestesses hold my arms and legs down in the water. They caress me, softly whispering to be calm and accept the tides.
Another wave and I struggle again, sputtering and coughing. The tide is coming quickly and even between the waves I am up to my earlobes. I pull as hard as I can with my left arm, feeling that the young novice priestess there might be weakest but she moves her shin onto my arm, burying it in the seaweed and the sand. She shoots the high-priestess a quick questioning look but the high-priestess doesn’t notice her. She is invoking Mayrei now, one hand on the noose cord and the other high to the sky. She is asking that the goddess accept their sacrifice… accept my death.
The waves are higher now and I am growing desperate, coughing and sputtering for breath. I have to arch my shoulders against the noose to even get a breath between the waves now. I cannot hear what the priestess is saying; my ears are covered by Mayrei’s tide. I take one look at my parents. I know it will be my last. My mother is so proud, hugging my older sister and pointing at me with a smile wider than I have ever seen. I am angry with her- I am only seven summers- why would you raise me only to watch me die? What is wrong with you? My father is pacing furiously, anger evident on his face. A priestess is talking with him, gesturing to me but he is ignoring her. I want him to come and save me. I scream, “FATHER!!!” I had wanted to say more but the waters rush into my throat. This time it has reached my lungs. I cough and sputter, choking. Choking! I want to scream again but I cannot draw breath. Finally my chest quivers and I spout up the water. I feel hot. I can hardly see. My father is a dim figure, distant, red and furious. He is trying to break from the grasp of the villagers. I want him to save me. We can run away together, away from these crazy women and their heartless goddess. I am only seven; how can Mayrei want me to die? THEY'RE GOING TO DROWN ME. DROWN ME and EAT ME! DADDY SAVE ME.
...another wave...
...distant now, above me...
...the sea is warm...
...another wave...
For a brief moment the tide recedes and I see the stars clearly. Twinkling. Peacefully. My ancestors. My death. Another wave. My eyes stay open, watching the night sky through the tide. The water is inside me burning my chest but distantly. I no longer feel it. Above me the stars. Twinkling and clear. I will live forever. With Mayreas.
(i am really happy with how this story turned out- i've never drowned but i've come close and well... i hope you like it)
OOC: Wow, nice, Immaculate.
Nice update, Eltain. Awesome religious map.
IC:
From: The Cypriot Empire
To: Spartan Empire
Your losses hurt. Trade with us, that you may replenish your economy, and fight back the kidnappers?
From: Cypriot Empire
To: Ilium
We hear of your great successes in the west. We wish to associate- trade, perhaps, to start?
From: Cypriot Empire
To: Aneb-Hetch (should the mod allow it)
Our two distant lands should not remain distant- a trade proposal, then? Our slaves and gems for your grain and SUCH. Agreed?
A story:
Nice update, Eltain. Awesome religious map.
IC:
From: The Cypriot Empire
To: Spartan Empire
Your losses hurt. Trade with us, that you may replenish your economy, and fight back the kidnappers?
From: Cypriot Empire
To: Ilium
We hear of your great successes in the west. We wish to associate- trade, perhaps, to start?
From: Cypriot Empire
To: Aneb-Hetch (should the mod allow it)
Our two distant lands should not remain distant- a trade proposal, then? Our slaves and gems for your grain and SUCH. Agreed?
A story:
Abaddon
Deity
To Cypriot Empire: We very much desire to trade with you, and will invest as needed if you promise to also do so.
From Aneb-Hetch
From Aneb-Hetch
.
Eltain
Deity
Zelet: Awesome. Poor Immaculate doesn't know whether you're trading neighbors or not though at the moment, and he is preparing to open a trade route with NPC Imperium. Do what you will, though.
Peeps: Awe, wait for it, some stories. BONUSES ALL AROUND*, HUZZAH!
*some restrictions may apply, see warranty for details.
Peeps: Awe, wait for it, some stories. BONUSES ALL AROUND*, HUZZAH!
*some restrictions may apply, see warranty for details.
Julius Gandi
The Foreign Disease
Scythian Story Update 2
Spoiler :
Milarqui
Deity
SP's can be spent as normal EP's, can't them?
Anyway, I'm keeping them on the "bank" so that I can use them on an emergency.
This is a small thing from the books in the future about the territorial division of current Tanresios.
Anyway, I'm keeping them on the "bank" so that I can use them on an emergency.
This is a small thing from the books in the future about the territorial division of current Tanresios.
Spoiler Ancient History, 3045 :
SKILORD
Insurgent
Why would you make it wear the harness inside? the Warlord asks exasperated with his wifes new hobby. Tying the legs he understood, but the harness contraption was ridiculous, you could see where she intended to put the plough, and frankly he was just glad that she had not already attached it, leaving the animal scraping the floor while it limped around the house. The most interesting times were when one of the bears got out of line, to see the Warlordess hammer it like an ogre to the side of the head, the look of confusion on the animals face.
What a strange creature, the Warlord thinks.
There are another dozen bears, chained into stables outdoors. One at a time though, despite his pleas that she only do so when he is on a campaign, she brings a bear indoors and attaches this harness and follows it around, moderating its every action. Some of the bears require a great deal of bashing, the Warlord has seen more than one bear be dismissed from her strange little etiquette academy and sent back to the wild, having been clobbered so many times it would never dare show its face near Granae. This bear was fairly well behaved though, having been born in the third stable eight months ago and kept on a tight leash by the Warlordess ever since.
Take the harness off, you arent trying to plough a field, the bear clearly doesnt care for it.
The Warlordess gives him an icy look, Im not trying to plough a field. Im trying to break his spirit.
The Warlord chuckles. It hadnt occurred to him, and honestly he thought it was a little crazy. But at the same time, he knew he was doing the same think to the Norsemen and the stark similarity could only make him laugh.
What a strange creature.
-
Arturo was not Wovvolken, something that the others would not let him forget.
Arturo served in the Wovvolken army, was considered a part of the tribe through and through. Many times had the General brought him forward and praised him, Look at Arturo, for an untermensch his javelin flies fast and true, Look at Arturo, perhaps even a Norseman can learn something.
Always with that exception, that qualification, for a Norseman.
Arturo did not chose his stars, or his birthplace, he does not know what to say to them. He holds his tongue. Often it feels like a vain pursuit to him, but it has earned him respect and rank, so doubt has hold yet on his mind. Perhaps if he can rise to the top of this land, these people, they will make peace with the Norsemen, learn to respect them, join as brothers. And together exterminate the damn Estonians who lived far south and possessed actual plunder. Farmers with thick crops! Not the meager scraps his people eke from the frozen earth! Estonia, Arturo thinks, is the navel of the world.
Pack up your things, the General shouts into the barracks.
The whole division mutters and gossips about wildly for a second before a loud cough from the General bids them all silent.
We will be advancing North before the moon is full, the good omen will permit us to attack at all hours if we are at a time ordained by the Thunder Gods. The Warlord has it on highest authority that the Thunder Gods will be on our side. Where is Arturo?
The whole division at a moment is willing to give up the foreigner, his path parts like threshed wheat as no one wants to be held part of whatever treason the Norseman has gotten into. And invading Norse territory, of course he would be suspect of every type of treason. Arturo feels at the spotlight suddenly and he hadnt even taken the time before this happened to consider what he even thought about the issue. A cold sweat grows on his brow.
The Warlord wished to speak to you, Arturo. I suggest you see to it immediately.
So he stands and walks through the threshed wheat path, the open door. He is terrified, he has seen that big copper axe in action, heard the Warlord say Mercy is for the weak, as many times as anyone else in the Wovvolken army.
When he makes it to the tent, the thick, nervous sweat has accumulated into an icy sort of mask.
The Warlord smiles to see it, A good omen, my friend Arturo wears the very armor of the Snow Demons!
Arturos lips cannot move, he walks closer to the fire in the middle of the tent.
The Warlord does not let the silence go wasted, We are prepared to invade further North, you have heard?
Arturo nods.
Arturo, these times call for what they demand. And that is war, conquest. There will be a future. There will always be a future.
What do you mean?
I mean that when the conquest is complete, what will we do, where will our people be? Can we bring the Norsemen into the fold, and turn our eyes on greater prizes? Or do we want a race of slaves? I have heard the Generals argue about this many times, no doubt you are aware already that things have been hard on you. But you are a good soldier, Arturo and true to your word, I have seen to it that you have risen in these ranks despite those sentiments.
Because when that conquest is complete, the Wovvolken do not need a race of slaves, we need more soldiers. We need people exactly like you.
Arturo is speechless, this is not at all what he expected from this meeting, Why, Thank you sir.
I dont need your words Arturo, but I do need a favor.
Whatever you ask, sir.
I want to make you a General. I have a division with many Norsemen in it and I feel that they could use leadership that was less combative towards them. Although if you think that I am asking you to show them better treatment than Wovvolken, the Warlord says nothing, only looks at the huge copper Axe.
I will do as you require, sir, that sort of thing would only prevent cooperation.
I want you to take these two divisions south, and I want you to bring glory to us all.
Arturo nods, As you command.
The Warlord hands Arturo a blade, a long pointed tip made of the finest copper, with a handle attached. Not sharp, but extremely pointed. These weapons were made for only Generals, it marked his rank and lent gravity to his commands. On the hilt, carved into the wood, the words Mercy is for the weak.
-
((2 Warbands Sent South, other 9 march north))
What a strange creature, the Warlord thinks.
There are another dozen bears, chained into stables outdoors. One at a time though, despite his pleas that she only do so when he is on a campaign, she brings a bear indoors and attaches this harness and follows it around, moderating its every action. Some of the bears require a great deal of bashing, the Warlord has seen more than one bear be dismissed from her strange little etiquette academy and sent back to the wild, having been clobbered so many times it would never dare show its face near Granae. This bear was fairly well behaved though, having been born in the third stable eight months ago and kept on a tight leash by the Warlordess ever since.
Take the harness off, you arent trying to plough a field, the bear clearly doesnt care for it.
The Warlordess gives him an icy look, Im not trying to plough a field. Im trying to break his spirit.
The Warlord chuckles. It hadnt occurred to him, and honestly he thought it was a little crazy. But at the same time, he knew he was doing the same think to the Norsemen and the stark similarity could only make him laugh.
What a strange creature.
-
Arturo was not Wovvolken, something that the others would not let him forget.
Arturo served in the Wovvolken army, was considered a part of the tribe through and through. Many times had the General brought him forward and praised him, Look at Arturo, for an untermensch his javelin flies fast and true, Look at Arturo, perhaps even a Norseman can learn something.
Always with that exception, that qualification, for a Norseman.
Arturo did not chose his stars, or his birthplace, he does not know what to say to them. He holds his tongue. Often it feels like a vain pursuit to him, but it has earned him respect and rank, so doubt has hold yet on his mind. Perhaps if he can rise to the top of this land, these people, they will make peace with the Norsemen, learn to respect them, join as brothers. And together exterminate the damn Estonians who lived far south and possessed actual plunder. Farmers with thick crops! Not the meager scraps his people eke from the frozen earth! Estonia, Arturo thinks, is the navel of the world.
Pack up your things, the General shouts into the barracks.
The whole division mutters and gossips about wildly for a second before a loud cough from the General bids them all silent.
We will be advancing North before the moon is full, the good omen will permit us to attack at all hours if we are at a time ordained by the Thunder Gods. The Warlord has it on highest authority that the Thunder Gods will be on our side. Where is Arturo?
The whole division at a moment is willing to give up the foreigner, his path parts like threshed wheat as no one wants to be held part of whatever treason the Norseman has gotten into. And invading Norse territory, of course he would be suspect of every type of treason. Arturo feels at the spotlight suddenly and he hadnt even taken the time before this happened to consider what he even thought about the issue. A cold sweat grows on his brow.
The Warlord wished to speak to you, Arturo. I suggest you see to it immediately.
So he stands and walks through the threshed wheat path, the open door. He is terrified, he has seen that big copper axe in action, heard the Warlord say Mercy is for the weak, as many times as anyone else in the Wovvolken army.
When he makes it to the tent, the thick, nervous sweat has accumulated into an icy sort of mask.
The Warlord smiles to see it, A good omen, my friend Arturo wears the very armor of the Snow Demons!
Arturos lips cannot move, he walks closer to the fire in the middle of the tent.
The Warlord does not let the silence go wasted, We are prepared to invade further North, you have heard?
Arturo nods.
Arturo, these times call for what they demand. And that is war, conquest. There will be a future. There will always be a future.
What do you mean?
I mean that when the conquest is complete, what will we do, where will our people be? Can we bring the Norsemen into the fold, and turn our eyes on greater prizes? Or do we want a race of slaves? I have heard the Generals argue about this many times, no doubt you are aware already that things have been hard on you. But you are a good soldier, Arturo and true to your word, I have seen to it that you have risen in these ranks despite those sentiments.
Because when that conquest is complete, the Wovvolken do not need a race of slaves, we need more soldiers. We need people exactly like you.
Arturo is speechless, this is not at all what he expected from this meeting, Why, Thank you sir.
I dont need your words Arturo, but I do need a favor.
Whatever you ask, sir.
I want to make you a General. I have a division with many Norsemen in it and I feel that they could use leadership that was less combative towards them. Although if you think that I am asking you to show them better treatment than Wovvolken, the Warlord says nothing, only looks at the huge copper Axe.
I will do as you require, sir, that sort of thing would only prevent cooperation.
I want you to take these two divisions south, and I want you to bring glory to us all.
Arturo nods, As you command.
The Warlord hands Arturo a blade, a long pointed tip made of the finest copper, with a handle attached. Not sharp, but extremely pointed. These weapons were made for only Generals, it marked his rank and lent gravity to his commands. On the hilt, carved into the wood, the words Mercy is for the weak.
-
((2 Warbands Sent South, other 9 march north))
Attachments
Julius Gandi
The Foreign Disease
Skilord and Immaculate, stop making us all look bad 
SKILORD
Insurgent
Sorry, it's just that I figure I'm a lot of SP away from bear cavalry. 
Eltain
Deity
9/10 orders received, I believe. Still plenty of time to get them in. I believe I'm missing Ilium/Kraznaya?
Lord of Elves
Suede-Denim Secret Police
- Joined
- Oct 31, 2009
- Messages
- 6,976
The Book of Records
The desert wind is a melancholy companion. In the dark of night, he whispers, constantly. I could do without the whispering; it is often macabre, my mind, he invents enough for me to do with in those matters. Oh, hello! It seems I have a visitor. Mayhap it is another voice in my head, however. That isn't to say that voices in one's head aren't good company, some of my best friends are voices in my head! Hmm, I haven't seem to have introduced myself have I? I am Malik the Mad, adviser and Scribe of the Sultan of Lyscovia. This is my home, it is indeed humble. I have been tasked by my Sultan to record the events of his government, and the events which concern future generations of rulers. And so I have, and continue to endeavor towards. At this particular moment in time (what is time? In the west, there is tell of a people who believe time is the machination of dreams, and the universe is merely a dream, the dream of a giant rabbit -- Nevermind.) it is my duty to record the easterly reaches of the Sultanate, and how they came to be acquired. I now set myself to this task, if the desert wind stops whispering.
No, I don't want to kill them all! Not yet! Ehm, excuse me.
The Sultan of Lyscovia did send out his armies in great number to the east, and encouraged the cities of Eylla, Uridra, Ahsren and Torad to pledge fealty to him, and in exchange he promised the protection of these cities and their environs against the barbarian tribesmen who fester beyond their borders and the borders of the Sultanate, and they were amenable to this, and were made part of his Realm, and so the Sultanate grew.
These cities were of plenty, though paling in comparison to Lysrella. The peoples living therein I record to be not so different from their westerly neighbors and protectors, the native Lyscovians of the Sultanate. Surely in time as I record these words they shall grow even more similar. The city of Eylla I record to have great and sturdy walls, though with sparse things beyond them. The city of Uridra I am told and record to have lesser defenses than those of Eylla, but to have the riches of an inner beauty, they tell the streets are paved of gold, and that many fountains and gardens abound. Surely a glorious conquest for the Sultanate. The city of Ahsren is neither well-defended or beautiful, but the people living there are strong and determined, and they say they are great warriors. So I will record for my Sultan. The people of Torad are learned and graceful, and they say the maidens are the most beautiful in all the land.
My Sultan did gather these cities allegiances, and they were pledged to him as part of his Realm and therefore the Sultanate. There will in time, so my Sultan tells me, be great roads like those seen in Lysrella and its neighbors that will connect these cities and make them richer and greater than they already are. The Sultan's dreams are glorious, but for now they are dreams. However, my Sultan has already made many of his dreams reality, and so I do not doubt that these things will be true someday. Perhaps then the voices will be quiet, and I will be able to travel these roads. Perhaps.
In any case, these cities are thus defined by their traits, be it the traits of the city's construction, the city's nature, or the city's people. I have always found the characterization of the peoples of the Sultanate objectionable, but my Sultan tells me that were one man to attempt to truthfully tell of all those in my Sultan's Realm, he would go mad. I am already mad, so I see in this little distinction. Go away, rabbit, go away!
In gathering the allegiance of the cities and their peoples, my Sultan and his armies did lay low the barbarians who plagued the land, and brought them as trophies to my Sultan's glory, and the glory of the people. We fought the barbarians, and we won, and our forces gathered greater glory. Another generation of ruthless, but noble Lyscovian warriors have achieved glory for themselves and for the Sultanate.
I fought in battle once, did I mention? No, it appears I didn't. I fought many men, and I laid them low, low as our armies have laid the barbarians. I fought them with my toes! Never underestimate the power of a well-placed toe, I say. So does the Sultan. He tells me though that I should lessen my comments into these records. The voices disagree. Put that knife away!
When my Sultan and his armies returned to Lysrella, they were treated to a great parade by the people there, and the warriors of my Sultan's armies were showered in wreaths and kisses by the maidens of the city, who swooned (swooned is a funny word, don't you think?) before them. There was a great feast, and all were boastful and proud of my Sultan. A glorious leader for a glorious people. They say that the fires which burned late into the night as part of the festivities could be seen for miles, as could the jubilation of our people could be heard across the seas.
Have you ever heard something from across the seas? It must be very loud.
And so I end this chronicle. My Sultan says that there is more I must record later, but he tells me I must also rest. I do not always enjoy rest, but it is necessary for one's body. One's mind can wander as much as it wishes. That is the very crux of the matter... Shoo, shoo, bunnies, shoo!
This be the end.
Eltain
Deity
Western World
At the edge of the world, Tanresios sees the opening of the much anticipated western trade route- between Tanresios itself and the Barbers of north Africa. Additionally, settlers sail west from the city of Titana and establish numerous colonies in the arid regions in the south, and an expedition sent to the islands of the east called the Balearic also go well.
An attempt by the Council of Tanresios to gather all Ancestor worshippers in the peninsula under their peaceful banner, coupled with the warbands sent north to conquer said land, sends mixed signals to the people there; they form the Bascland Union, an east-Iberian country with a government structured similarly to that of the Tanresan's.
Porter is quiet. The King dead or captured; supposedly renouncing Porter in the Tanresan capital. His closest generals still living muster an army that challenges and indeed surpassesthat of Tanresios itself.
Just east, Barber opens it's long-awaited trade route with their neighbors and allies, Tanresios, who had put it off due to internal struggles, or something. They also start building the Temple of Mareas to spread their new favorite religion, Devi Mareas, which they adopted from travelers in the east. Ancestor worship of various forms is circulating Barber country, establishing itself as the dominant religious idea quickly.
East of there, the Domic Tribes saw peaceful expansion as well as the co-creation of the first river-based trade route of the world, with Avranti. Parts of their yearly output are put towards a series of large structures aimed at holding grain and food for the long winter, called the Great Granaries, which will also boost their income.
South of the Domic people, the Cyseean Imperium initiates a Trade Route with their southern neighbors, the Phoolan Devi. Woolen garments and beautiful pottery flows from port to port like wine from amphorae.
Trade is a common theme in modern world. An ancient planned route only recently established with the Cyseean sparks a generation of new explorers for outside goods, it seems. Phoolan explorers make contact with peoples as distant as the Tanresan in the west and the Ilium and Cypriots in the east.
No trade is possible with these people, however, as the distance required to be traveled would outweigh the economic benefits of a raft-load of goods.
A world away in the barren snow fields of the north, the Wovvolken people begin work on the greatest project the known world has, well, known: The Domestication of the Bear. They're about a fourth of the way through the process.
Far south and east of there, the Scythians continue building the world's first designed cities, and expanding their territory through force, ruffling the feathers of several local tribes badly.
Ilium stagnates. (No banked EP; no story)
The Spartan War Machine awakens, raising 15 more warbands for the retalliation against the Ilium. Their expansion in Anatolia continues, though without officials from the Greek mainland to oversee it, meet several minor setbacks.
The Cypriot Empire, a peaceful trading kingdom really, continues its peaceful colonization of the Anatolian coast, through lavish gifts to the local kings and warlords from the far flung trade routes the Empire already holds. They establish another trade route with Aneb-Hetch, bringing in vast quantities of wheat and bran for their colonists to share with the natives, as well.
The Lyscovian Sultanate has never been known for it's fickleness, until now. It has now disbanded nd dispersed the massive army it funded and mustered only 50 years ago, returning it to the population. In addition to opening a new trade route with Aneb-Hetch, it has begun construction of an irrigation project, consisting of large canals delivering water from various fresh-water springs.
Aneb-Hetch starts trade routes with the Cypriot Empire and the Lyscovian Sultanate- the trade empire of the eastern Med, to be sure.
The Nile Dynasties sees it's first progress in centuries- the beginning of a large project known as the Agriculture of the Nile, which is designed to create a surplus of food each year, and increase the income of the Dynasties on the whole.
East, past the Lyscovians, the Pontian Empire continues the construction of the Walls of Pontus, this time using slave labor to ease the economic stresses on the country's economy.
The Tabriz arise to challenge the Pontian's war and their racial slaving campaigns.
Eastern World
Beyond the Pontians, the Kettick Empire's farms on the Indi river grow ever nearer to their completion. The next generation will likely see the completion ofthese farms, and the populace waits with baited breath. Another note, the Kettick Empire's two warbands accompany the God King to the un-converted lands within the Empire, to see to their forcible conversion.
The Kutaki tribes keep their coffers full and continue spreading their religion to all corners of the Kutaki world.
Arkital constructs a large base of rice farms to supplement it's growing population, but also increase it's income slightly. The country expands quickly as more and more tribes are accepted into the now defensive and economic federation of tribes it has become.
The Qing Empire begins a massive re-working of their agricultural base around their empire, and disbands many soldiers, to go back to their family or claim land in the north.
The Tairon Empire go about glorifying their rule by constructing massive statues of their monarchs in all of their splendid glory, but also cementing their economy in happy taxes.
Military Events:
Porter War
The Battle of Blood Canyon
In early 72, a scouting army of 800 Tanresan warriors stumbled upon the large united Porter army, and hot pursuit ensued. The Porters, chasing the Tanresans, figured (correctly) that it was a scouting or probe army, as the Porter army consisted of well over 4,000, and there was no match between the two.
The Porters gained slowly on the Tanresan scouting party. The mountainous terrain north of the Taga river surely slowed the Tanresans down, who were not used to it. The Porter generals sent mounted scouts ahead to herd the Tanresans into a rocky canyon that dead-ended at a hundred foot cliff face in the west; it worked perfectly. The tired Porters set up camp and just watched the helpless 800 squirm.
Little did the Porters know that it was the Tanresans who had set the trap for them; the route had been pre-planned all along, and an army of 2,000 fresh Tanresan warriors came hurtling down the canyon walls in the middle of the night from all directions, causing a great panic.
It was a daring plan: 2,800 versus 4,000. The Tanresans paid in blood, tears and sweat for the victory, but not a single Porter soldier escaped that battle.
(-7 Warbands, gained Porter, gained 3 EP, Tanresios)
(-11 Warbands, lost Porter, lost 2 EP, Porter.)
The Black Serpent
An army of some 1,200 Avrantic troops took rafts across the straits between the Avranti homeland and the isle of Bretta in the northwest, to settle a semi-permanent camp, that would later become a heavily fortified and populated hill fort. Several skirmishes with the Brettans, who fought to defend their homeland, ended with many casualties.
More clashes than would normally occur followed the Avrantic army of 2,400 as it fought it's way through various smaller Gallic tribes, due to the fact that women made up a fifth of the army, something the Gauls thought unthinkable and cruel to the women.
(-3 Warbands, +rebelions, Avranti)
The Wovvolken War
The Wovvolk orders are slightly more complicated this year: pillage, except in specific directions, with specific groups.
(-1 Warband, Wovvolk)
Trojan War
A Spartan army of 8,400 men has been mustered from mainland Greece, and bang their shields for war. Similarly a weaker but zealous Spartan navy has been constructed and set against the Ilium blockading their homeland- and met with major success. The Ilium navy, lacking orders, fought disorderly and fled back to Ilium proper.
The Spartan army then followed, hopping from island to island, regaining support from or re-conquering the islands, until they finally landed at the Ilium homeland, and the city of Ilium. The city was virtually undefended- a mere 2,400 soldier garrison, compared to the Spartan's 8,000+. It was consequently conquered and nearly burnt to the ground, except that the Spartan king felt mercy, and decided to let it join his empire. With a Greek governor of course.
(-4 Rafts, -7 Warbands, gained (city) Ilium, Spartan Empire)
(-3 Rafts, -6 Warbands, lost (city) Ilium, lost 2 EP, Ilium)
Lyscovian Expansionism...?
With the massive army gone and the intimidation effect mostly gone, the various local leaders that had bowed to the Sultan's whim before are now having second thoughts. Declaring themselves free of Lyscovian influence, they have taken up arms, and "removed" the Lyscovian forces from their territory.
(-1 Warband, Lyscovian Sultanate)
Pontus's War
The Pontian Empire has begun rounding up entire villages of non-Pontians to either be put to death as displays of power and entertainment for the masses or to be put to work as slaves, building the walls surrounding the great city of Pontus.
Various small kingdoms and chiefdoms have united and put up a defensive front, causing major problems in the Pontian's progress with these racial purges.
(-1 Warband, Pontian Empire)
At the edge of the world, Tanresios sees the opening of the much anticipated western trade route- between Tanresios itself and the Barbers of north Africa. Additionally, settlers sail west from the city of Titana and establish numerous colonies in the arid regions in the south, and an expedition sent to the islands of the east called the Balearic also go well.
An attempt by the Council of Tanresios to gather all Ancestor worshippers in the peninsula under their peaceful banner, coupled with the warbands sent north to conquer said land, sends mixed signals to the people there; they form the Bascland Union, an east-Iberian country with a government structured similarly to that of the Tanresan's.
Porter is quiet. The King dead or captured; supposedly renouncing Porter in the Tanresan capital. His closest generals still living muster an army that challenges and indeed surpassesthat of Tanresios itself.
Just east, Barber opens it's long-awaited trade route with their neighbors and allies, Tanresios, who had put it off due to internal struggles, or something. They also start building the Temple of Mareas to spread their new favorite religion, Devi Mareas, which they adopted from travelers in the east. Ancestor worship of various forms is circulating Barber country, establishing itself as the dominant religious idea quickly.
Spotlight Region said:
East of there, the Domic Tribes saw peaceful expansion as well as the co-creation of the first river-based trade route of the world, with Avranti. Parts of their yearly output are put towards a series of large structures aimed at holding grain and food for the long winter, called the Great Granaries, which will also boost their income.
South of the Domic people, the Cyseean Imperium initiates a Trade Route with their southern neighbors, the Phoolan Devi. Woolen garments and beautiful pottery flows from port to port like wine from amphorae.
Trade is a common theme in modern world. An ancient planned route only recently established with the Cyseean sparks a generation of new explorers for outside goods, it seems. Phoolan explorers make contact with peoples as distant as the Tanresan in the west and the Ilium and Cypriots in the east.
No trade is possible with these people, however, as the distance required to be traveled would outweigh the economic benefits of a raft-load of goods.
A world away in the barren snow fields of the north, the Wovvolken people begin work on the greatest project the known world has, well, known: The Domestication of the Bear. They're about a fourth of the way through the process.
Far south and east of there, the Scythians continue building the world's first designed cities, and expanding their territory through force, ruffling the feathers of several local tribes badly.
Ilium stagnates. (No banked EP; no story)
The Spartan War Machine awakens, raising 15 more warbands for the retalliation against the Ilium. Their expansion in Anatolia continues, though without officials from the Greek mainland to oversee it, meet several minor setbacks.
The Cypriot Empire, a peaceful trading kingdom really, continues its peaceful colonization of the Anatolian coast, through lavish gifts to the local kings and warlords from the far flung trade routes the Empire already holds. They establish another trade route with Aneb-Hetch, bringing in vast quantities of wheat and bran for their colonists to share with the natives, as well.
The Lyscovian Sultanate has never been known for it's fickleness, until now. It has now disbanded nd dispersed the massive army it funded and mustered only 50 years ago, returning it to the population. In addition to opening a new trade route with Aneb-Hetch, it has begun construction of an irrigation project, consisting of large canals delivering water from various fresh-water springs.
Aneb-Hetch starts trade routes with the Cypriot Empire and the Lyscovian Sultanate- the trade empire of the eastern Med, to be sure.
The Nile Dynasties sees it's first progress in centuries- the beginning of a large project known as the Agriculture of the Nile, which is designed to create a surplus of food each year, and increase the income of the Dynasties on the whole.
East, past the Lyscovians, the Pontian Empire continues the construction of the Walls of Pontus, this time using slave labor to ease the economic stresses on the country's economy.
The Tabriz arise to challenge the Pontian's war and their racial slaving campaigns.
Eastern World
Beyond the Pontians, the Kettick Empire's farms on the Indi river grow ever nearer to their completion. The next generation will likely see the completion ofthese farms, and the populace waits with baited breath. Another note, the Kettick Empire's two warbands accompany the God King to the un-converted lands within the Empire, to see to their forcible conversion.
The Kutaki tribes keep their coffers full and continue spreading their religion to all corners of the Kutaki world.
Arkital constructs a large base of rice farms to supplement it's growing population, but also increase it's income slightly. The country expands quickly as more and more tribes are accepted into the now defensive and economic federation of tribes it has become.
The Qing Empire begins a massive re-working of their agricultural base around their empire, and disbands many soldiers, to go back to their family or claim land in the north.
The Tairon Empire go about glorifying their rule by constructing massive statues of their monarchs in all of their splendid glory, but also cementing their economy in happy taxes.
Military Events:
Porter War
The Battle of Blood Canyon
In early 72, a scouting army of 800 Tanresan warriors stumbled upon the large united Porter army, and hot pursuit ensued. The Porters, chasing the Tanresans, figured (correctly) that it was a scouting or probe army, as the Porter army consisted of well over 4,000, and there was no match between the two.
The Porters gained slowly on the Tanresan scouting party. The mountainous terrain north of the Taga river surely slowed the Tanresans down, who were not used to it. The Porter generals sent mounted scouts ahead to herd the Tanresans into a rocky canyon that dead-ended at a hundred foot cliff face in the west; it worked perfectly. The tired Porters set up camp and just watched the helpless 800 squirm.
Little did the Porters know that it was the Tanresans who had set the trap for them; the route had been pre-planned all along, and an army of 2,000 fresh Tanresan warriors came hurtling down the canyon walls in the middle of the night from all directions, causing a great panic.
It was a daring plan: 2,800 versus 4,000. The Tanresans paid in blood, tears and sweat for the victory, but not a single Porter soldier escaped that battle.
(-7 Warbands, gained Porter, gained 3 EP, Tanresios)
(-11 Warbands, lost Porter, lost 2 EP, Porter.)
The Black Serpent
An army of some 1,200 Avrantic troops took rafts across the straits between the Avranti homeland and the isle of Bretta in the northwest, to settle a semi-permanent camp, that would later become a heavily fortified and populated hill fort. Several skirmishes with the Brettans, who fought to defend their homeland, ended with many casualties.
More clashes than would normally occur followed the Avrantic army of 2,400 as it fought it's way through various smaller Gallic tribes, due to the fact that women made up a fifth of the army, something the Gauls thought unthinkable and cruel to the women.
(-3 Warbands, +rebelions, Avranti)
The Wovvolken War
The Wovvolk orders are slightly more complicated this year: pillage, except in specific directions, with specific groups.
(-1 Warband, Wovvolk)
Trojan War
A Spartan army of 8,400 men has been mustered from mainland Greece, and bang their shields for war. Similarly a weaker but zealous Spartan navy has been constructed and set against the Ilium blockading their homeland- and met with major success. The Ilium navy, lacking orders, fought disorderly and fled back to Ilium proper.
The Spartan army then followed, hopping from island to island, regaining support from or re-conquering the islands, until they finally landed at the Ilium homeland, and the city of Ilium. The city was virtually undefended- a mere 2,400 soldier garrison, compared to the Spartan's 8,000+. It was consequently conquered and nearly burnt to the ground, except that the Spartan king felt mercy, and decided to let it join his empire. With a Greek governor of course.
(-4 Rafts, -7 Warbands, gained (city) Ilium, Spartan Empire)
(-3 Rafts, -6 Warbands, lost (city) Ilium, lost 2 EP, Ilium)
Lyscovian Expansionism...?
With the massive army gone and the intimidation effect mostly gone, the various local leaders that had bowed to the Sultan's whim before are now having second thoughts. Declaring themselves free of Lyscovian influence, they have taken up arms, and "removed" the Lyscovian forces from their territory.
(-1 Warband, Lyscovian Sultanate)
Pontus's War
The Pontian Empire has begun rounding up entire villages of non-Pontians to either be put to death as displays of power and entertainment for the masses or to be put to work as slaves, building the walls surrounding the great city of Pontus.
Various small kingdoms and chiefdoms have united and put up a defensive front, causing major problems in the Pontian's progress with these racial purges.
(-1 Warband, Pontian Empire)
Spotlight: Wovvolk said:
Eltain
Deity
Spoiler :
Link: http://a.imagehost.org/view/0368/Map_2
SP:
Current/Total Earned:
Wovvolk/SKILORD: 3/5
Scythia/Julius Ganhdi: 2.5/4.5
Qing/Androgans: 2/5
Phoolan Devi/Immaculate: 4/6
Tanresios/Milarqui: 6/6
Lyscovian Sulanate/Lord of Elves: 4/6
Ilium/Kraznaya: 2/2
Avranti/Karalysia: .5/2.5
Aneb-Hetch/Abaddon: 0/1
Cypriot Empire/Menanish: 1/1
Diplomacies
From: Bascland Union
To: Tanresios
We wish for a peaceful co-existance of our two great Councils.
From: Domic Tribes
To: Avranti
We find your use of women in warfare barbaric and unethical, though it is not our place to stop you. Just do not spread your witchcraft religion here.
From: Barber
To: Phoolan Devi
At last, the senders of the missionaries. We find this ancestor worship is a universal religion, yes- we have adopted it for ourselves! May our relationship be both peacable and fruitful.
From: Sparta
To: Ilium
Surrender your God-King and we will spare him his life. Return our princess and we will make sure your deaths are quick and painless.
From: Sparta
To: Phoolan Devi
Greetings, and welcome to the Aegean. We would not suggest visiting the eastern half, as it is currently engulfed in war. If you do not spread your religion here, however, your explorers and trade goods are welcome.
From: Nile Dynasties
To: Lyscovian Sultanate
We request a trade route with your glorious lands. Deal?
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