A Glorious Sepulcher; Fresh Start NES
- Thread starter TheLizardKing
- Start date
Lord_Herobrine
Back in the Saddle
Hey TLK, would I get some culture points for naming the Serpentin for the BT? 
TheLizardKing
Let's talk Michelle.
Hey TLK, would I get some culture points for naming the Serpentin for the BT?
Sure.
Deadline is in 3 days, and I have two sets of orders thus far. Disappointing.
To: Gaerite Empire
From: Tamayame
We offer a trade alliance to further our mutual prosperity peaceful coexistence.
From: Tamayame
We offer a trade alliance to further our mutual prosperity peaceful coexistence.
TheLizardKing
Let's talk Michelle.
From: The Gaerite Empire
To: The Tamayame
We don't see why not. Your traders are welcome in our ports, so long as ours are in yours.
To: The Tamayame
We don't see why not. Your traders are welcome in our ports, so long as ours are in yours.
Lord_Herobrine
Back in the Saddle
To: Gyrileans
From: Misthali
The Queen of Misthali has realized the situation that your League is in. Facing invasion from the northern Cavharians, the Gyrileans have banded together for protection, which the Queen admires.
To help your cause in defense, the Misthali would like to extend further trade between our two great states for the better of your League.
From: Misthali
The Queen of Misthali has realized the situation that your League is in. Facing invasion from the northern Cavharians, the Gyrileans have banded together for protection, which the Queen admires.
To help your cause in defense, the Misthali would like to extend further trade between our two great states for the better of your League.
What does the "sail" Stat mean?
Lord_Herobrine
Back in the Saddle
It probably, with size, determine the speed that that ship is capable of achieving. More sails= faster ship.
TheLizardKing
Let's talk Michelle.
From: The Gyrliean League
To: Misthali
The proposal is acceptable to us; thank you.
OOC:
@Bird
The sail stat is a mixture of speed and skill. The higher the sail level, the better your ship can handle, and by extension it's quicker. That, along with the size stat effect how far your ships can sail.
To: Misthali
The proposal is acceptable to us; thank you.
OOC:
@Bird
The sail stat is a mixture of speed and skill. The higher the sail level, the better your ship can handle, and by extension it's quicker. That, along with the size stat effect how far your ships can sail.
My double hulled canoes seem "under valued" given that they are modeled after the real life Polynesian ones.
I suggest:
Tamayamen Double-Hulled Canoe
Armor: 1
Size: 2
Sail: 3
Missile: 2
Can be built by: Tamayame,
I suggest:
Tamayamen Double-Hulled Canoe
Armor: 1
Size: 2
Sail: 3
Missile: 2
Can be built by: Tamayame,
TheLizardKing
Let's talk Michelle.
Well, I have you at size 3, your sails are good, but it's not comparable to the Dhow. Your intentions with the canoe is possible, because I understand what you were going for, based off of our PM conversation. The size is more important than the sail, in this specific occasion.
Nintz
King of the Britons
The Vjeci always had an odd religion. Given how instrumental it was to to development of the culture at large, any true and thorough look at their culture must be viewed, first and foremost, through the lens of religion. First, they believe in Dho. To our modern preconceptions of what a religion is, as well as what "God" is, it may appear that this simple fact makes Vjeci religion a simple variant of common monotheism. While certain elements cross over, much much more differentiates it. To understand the religion in its entirety, let us look at where it begins.
The Vjeci were almost paradoxical. On one hand, the Vjeci say that everything is a circle. There is no beginning. There is no end. Yet, they still have a "creation" tale. Most scholars are of the opinion that this particular tale developed out of a time when the religion was far less simplified (though it is not simple) and more tribal. The basic tale goes that Dho was a being from another world. They (oddly referred to as plural here, though not in other places) cut through the fabric of the, for lack of a better translation, space-time continuum, and "landed" on this planet. It was dark, decrepit, barren, and without life.
The tales say that Dho (still plural) worked tirelessly for 20 days and 20 nights to bring life to this planet. They met with failure. For it was not to be. The spirit of the universe was still stacked against Dho, and not willing to yield. It is said that Dho was visited by a Räki. The best translation in the modern tongue would be a "demon-angel from outer space". The Vjeci were not exactly an eloquent people. While Räki have many legends of their own, and indeed play a significant role in early Vjeci tales, at this time, they are a more minor character. It is said that Dho asked: "Why do I fail? Why does life not thrive here?" The Räki answered, in a melodic and hissing voice: "Life...is in the currents of the land. Life...does not exist...here. Life must be brought; sacrificed to...the land."
Dho then knew what to do. He prayed to the stars for wisdom and guidance, begging the universal spirit to accept his offering. Then, s/he (notice, the legends specify that Dho is singular here) drew from inside their robes a dagger. Where this came from is unknown, though its role was instrumental. Dho stabbed her/himself right in the heart, and allowed his/her blood to seep into the land. With its greed sated, the land came alive. Rivers flowed, plants grew, animals were born from the darkness. Then, one day, the Räki that visited Dho came back. He looked all around. He observed the life brought to the land. He saw the greatness bestowed upon the land. He said only two lines is his hissing tongue: "You have done well... Dho. You will...not be forgotten." Before walking away into the sunset.
Thus, the lifeblood of Dho was given to all. Dho did not die however. For all of his/her children still exist. In the sea, the land, the plants and animals. The thoughts of Dho were heard by all, and accepted as the universal truth. Humans themselves are children of Dho, according to Vjeci tales. Of course, that is another story.
The Vjeci were almost paradoxical. On one hand, the Vjeci say that everything is a circle. There is no beginning. There is no end. Yet, they still have a "creation" tale. Most scholars are of the opinion that this particular tale developed out of a time when the religion was far less simplified (though it is not simple) and more tribal. The basic tale goes that Dho was a being from another world. They (oddly referred to as plural here, though not in other places) cut through the fabric of the, for lack of a better translation, space-time continuum, and "landed" on this planet. It was dark, decrepit, barren, and without life.
The tales say that Dho (still plural) worked tirelessly for 20 days and 20 nights to bring life to this planet. They met with failure. For it was not to be. The spirit of the universe was still stacked against Dho, and not willing to yield. It is said that Dho was visited by a Räki. The best translation in the modern tongue would be a "demon-angel from outer space". The Vjeci were not exactly an eloquent people. While Räki have many legends of their own, and indeed play a significant role in early Vjeci tales, at this time, they are a more minor character. It is said that Dho asked: "Why do I fail? Why does life not thrive here?" The Räki answered, in a melodic and hissing voice: "Life...is in the currents of the land. Life...does not exist...here. Life must be brought; sacrificed to...the land."
Dho then knew what to do. He prayed to the stars for wisdom and guidance, begging the universal spirit to accept his offering. Then, s/he (notice, the legends specify that Dho is singular here) drew from inside their robes a dagger. Where this came from is unknown, though its role was instrumental. Dho stabbed her/himself right in the heart, and allowed his/her blood to seep into the land. With its greed sated, the land came alive. Rivers flowed, plants grew, animals were born from the darkness. Then, one day, the Räki that visited Dho came back. He looked all around. He observed the life brought to the land. He saw the greatness bestowed upon the land. He said only two lines is his hissing tongue: "You have done well... Dho. You will...not be forgotten." Before walking away into the sunset.
Thus, the lifeblood of Dho was given to all. Dho did not die however. For all of his/her children still exist. In the sea, the land, the plants and animals. The thoughts of Dho were heard by all, and accepted as the universal truth. Humans themselves are children of Dho, according to Vjeci tales. Of course, that is another story.
Thanks; so my stats are:
Tamayamen Double-Hulled Canoe
Armor: 1
Size: 3
Sail: 1
Missile: 2
I am waiting on diplo responses, but will send orders anyway. If the diplo goes badly, I may have to make some changes.
Tamayamen Double-Hulled Canoe
Armor: 1
Size: 3
Sail: 1
Missile: 2
I am waiting on diplo responses, but will send orders anyway. If the diplo goes badly, I may have to make some changes.
From The Cavharians
To Gyrilean League
We demand tribute from your pathetic and weak peoples. If we fail to receive tribute we will come and get it.
OCC: I apologize for being behind on responses and participation. The last few days were a bit hectic for me.
To Gyrilean League
We demand tribute from your pathetic and weak peoples. If we fail to receive tribute we will come and get it.
OCC: I apologize for being behind on responses and participation. The last few days were a bit hectic for me.
TheLizardKing
Let's talk Michelle.
(Great/Interesting)
To: Cavharians
From: The Gyrilean League
You are cowards. We don't fear you, and will not send you any gold.
Nintz
King of the Britons
@TLK-
Thanks!
I'm planning to continue expanding the religion every turn, at least for now. That's the most unique part of my culture after all.
Thanks!
I'm planning to continue expanding the religion every turn, at least for now. That's the most unique part of my culture after all.
Immaculate
unerring
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2003
- Messages
- 7,623
EDIT: working on orders- will try to have them in within 30-45 min.
EDIT 2: Orders in. Blood will flow- GLORY TO LYTSU!
Immaculate
unerring
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2003
- Messages
- 7,623
Moonlight glinted off the bronze spears and oiled skin of my captors. They stood or sat at ease, the battle long over. A silver platter- I recognized it as having been plundered from our village chief- sat on a low table between them. Bones from fish and goat were all that was left of a feast they had forced many of my sisters and brothers to prepare for them a few short hours ago.
The wind was low and the tide was out. A few of the Tog galleys and dhow had been pulled ashore after the battle had been decided and now threw dark silhouettes against the gently lapping sea.
The Tog raiders were mostly silent but some muttered verses from the Maj in the sing-song cadence characteristic of the prophets poetry. The Muka priests had told us they were blasphemers, that they sought to appease Lytsu with gifts of blood from the most fertile of our kinds- even women bearing unborn children. Such a thought, for us, the Muka, seemed preposterous- our priests had interpreted the Maj to value fertility almost as much as blood- for blood bred fertility. These raiders were nothing more than stupid savages.
And yet, I couldn't help but somehow feel, despite my imminent death, some sense of pride. Several Tog priests had arranged to have me bathed in milk freshly pulled and perfumed in rose petals and cinnamon. My pores had been purged with purest olive oil and my hair washed and scented with wintergreen from distant shores. They draped me in Gyrilean skirts of spider-thread which Tog artisans had embroidered with verse from the Maj. Strings of pearls and alabaster seashell jewelry fell from my neck in a cascade of concentric rings over my bare breasts and from my shoulders upon my biceps and forearms. Finally they added several fine smelling flowers to my brow and completed their adornments with a circlet of intricately wrought silver- delicate threads interweaving with my scented hair- upon my head. I had never felt so beautiful, graceful, valued, or terrified.
As the priests completed their preparations, one ran into the night, up the hill towards the sacred site. We waited and the spearmen began to prepare themselves, straitening their fighting harnesses and leather skirts, drawing upon one another in purple and red pigments they had brought with them, and combing their long hair- all would be at their best for the ceremony.
Finally in the distance we heard a single flute cut the night- its melody haunting yet celebratory. A low chanting begin to fill the dark air and was soon picked up by the spear-wielding warriors around me. One gently and with the utmost respect motioned for me to fall into position and walk with them. Only hours later these men and women had fallen upon my people, butchering and raping and now their demeanor was entirely opposite.
I stepped upon the stone path that had been adorned with flower petals and goat blood, my bare feet soon sticky as we ascended the hill. Our village did not have a proper temple- our alter was a grand affair of marble but bare to the elements. We would crowd around it in rain or showers and hear the priests recite the Maj. Tonight however the hillcrest was surrounded by several dark shapes fluttering quietly in the gentle wind. I could see several torches and small fires within the circle of dark shapes. Their flames reflected upon the shined golden skin of Tog warriors and the surrendered remains of my village.
The chanting and flute continued, subtle and low- the Tog had a strong musical tradition and it was said to permeate all aspects of their culture. As I approached I realized that the dark shapes at the periphery of the hill were the skin of soldiers and fishermen that had once called our village home. I had heard the pained and terrified screaming of my brothers as they had had the skin flayed from them and the soldiers guarding me at spoken of how they had brought skinners to prepare standards from the skin of the fallen Muka warriors but to see their handiwork was something else entirely. I had almost forgotten what savage people these invaders were. My feet faltered and a spearmen offered me a gentle hand to regain my feet. I shrunk from his touch and looked about me into the darkness for a path to freedom and escape. I was surrounded; there was no escape.
I summoned my courage and reminded myself that my sacrifice would bring a rich reincarnation for my soul- perhaps I would return as a prince or a priestess and have many children. My steps grew more sure and soon I had passed between the flayed skins- still buzzing with flies despite the tanning oils and acids used to prepare and preserve them. I saw tattoos and realized I knew from whom this standard had been made. I clenched my fist and felt my jaw tighten but I was proud that my feet did not falter.
Arriving at the alter the chanting stopped and the head priestess of the Tog stopped her flute. She spoke to the assembled warriors, reciting the Maj, a verse from the third prophet regarding the creation and how we are all of Lytsus blood and how by spilling the blood of his creations, we return to him what we only borrowed. The sermon was very similar to what a Muka priest would have provided and I felt some comfort in knowing that despite my murderer being Tog, my spirit would not be sullied or ruined by their ritual.
I stepped upon the dias and laid myself upon the alter. The priestess spoke several more words and begin to place the Holxd. Each of these is a bronze tube, approximately a sixteenth to an eight of an inch in diameter and about 8 inches long. They are wickedly sharp and placed in the major veins and arteries- at the wrists, the ankles, the thighs. There was some pain but I was resolute- my soul would not be sullied by my fear or terror. The priestess smiled upon me and I felt her pride. Some of the sacrifices defiled themselves in the last moments- their terror and doubt too great and their souls would not reincarnate as highly as they could have. The priestess bent low and smelled my hair, The assistants have done well; you are so beautiful. Your will is strong and your calm pleasing. You have brought honor to your family and village.
I felt little pain now, only a dull sense of fatigue. I felt my blood welling around my ankles and wrists and could smell its metallic scent upon the air. I knew it would be flowing through the groves and channels built into the alter and would be collected at its base- to be used in future rituals and to anoint the Tog warriors in their next conquests.
Finally I smiled back at the priestess and told her I was ready. She smiled and placed the last Holxd. This one, wider than the rest, was placed below the ribs and drained the heart.
As my spirit left the shell of my body the last thing I heard was the priestess's gentle flute on the wind.
The wind was low and the tide was out. A few of the Tog galleys and dhow had been pulled ashore after the battle had been decided and now threw dark silhouettes against the gently lapping sea.
The Tog raiders were mostly silent but some muttered verses from the Maj in the sing-song cadence characteristic of the prophets poetry. The Muka priests had told us they were blasphemers, that they sought to appease Lytsu with gifts of blood from the most fertile of our kinds- even women bearing unborn children. Such a thought, for us, the Muka, seemed preposterous- our priests had interpreted the Maj to value fertility almost as much as blood- for blood bred fertility. These raiders were nothing more than stupid savages.
And yet, I couldn't help but somehow feel, despite my imminent death, some sense of pride. Several Tog priests had arranged to have me bathed in milk freshly pulled and perfumed in rose petals and cinnamon. My pores had been purged with purest olive oil and my hair washed and scented with wintergreen from distant shores. They draped me in Gyrilean skirts of spider-thread which Tog artisans had embroidered with verse from the Maj. Strings of pearls and alabaster seashell jewelry fell from my neck in a cascade of concentric rings over my bare breasts and from my shoulders upon my biceps and forearms. Finally they added several fine smelling flowers to my brow and completed their adornments with a circlet of intricately wrought silver- delicate threads interweaving with my scented hair- upon my head. I had never felt so beautiful, graceful, valued, or terrified.
As the priests completed their preparations, one ran into the night, up the hill towards the sacred site. We waited and the spearmen began to prepare themselves, straitening their fighting harnesses and leather skirts, drawing upon one another in purple and red pigments they had brought with them, and combing their long hair- all would be at their best for the ceremony.
Finally in the distance we heard a single flute cut the night- its melody haunting yet celebratory. A low chanting begin to fill the dark air and was soon picked up by the spear-wielding warriors around me. One gently and with the utmost respect motioned for me to fall into position and walk with them. Only hours later these men and women had fallen upon my people, butchering and raping and now their demeanor was entirely opposite.
I stepped upon the stone path that had been adorned with flower petals and goat blood, my bare feet soon sticky as we ascended the hill. Our village did not have a proper temple- our alter was a grand affair of marble but bare to the elements. We would crowd around it in rain or showers and hear the priests recite the Maj. Tonight however the hillcrest was surrounded by several dark shapes fluttering quietly in the gentle wind. I could see several torches and small fires within the circle of dark shapes. Their flames reflected upon the shined golden skin of Tog warriors and the surrendered remains of my village.
The chanting and flute continued, subtle and low- the Tog had a strong musical tradition and it was said to permeate all aspects of their culture. As I approached I realized that the dark shapes at the periphery of the hill were the skin of soldiers and fishermen that had once called our village home. I had heard the pained and terrified screaming of my brothers as they had had the skin flayed from them and the soldiers guarding me at spoken of how they had brought skinners to prepare standards from the skin of the fallen Muka warriors but to see their handiwork was something else entirely. I had almost forgotten what savage people these invaders were. My feet faltered and a spearmen offered me a gentle hand to regain my feet. I shrunk from his touch and looked about me into the darkness for a path to freedom and escape. I was surrounded; there was no escape.
I summoned my courage and reminded myself that my sacrifice would bring a rich reincarnation for my soul- perhaps I would return as a prince or a priestess and have many children. My steps grew more sure and soon I had passed between the flayed skins- still buzzing with flies despite the tanning oils and acids used to prepare and preserve them. I saw tattoos and realized I knew from whom this standard had been made. I clenched my fist and felt my jaw tighten but I was proud that my feet did not falter.
Arriving at the alter the chanting stopped and the head priestess of the Tog stopped her flute. She spoke to the assembled warriors, reciting the Maj, a verse from the third prophet regarding the creation and how we are all of Lytsus blood and how by spilling the blood of his creations, we return to him what we only borrowed. The sermon was very similar to what a Muka priest would have provided and I felt some comfort in knowing that despite my murderer being Tog, my spirit would not be sullied or ruined by their ritual.
I stepped upon the dias and laid myself upon the alter. The priestess spoke several more words and begin to place the Holxd. Each of these is a bronze tube, approximately a sixteenth to an eight of an inch in diameter and about 8 inches long. They are wickedly sharp and placed in the major veins and arteries- at the wrists, the ankles, the thighs. There was some pain but I was resolute- my soul would not be sullied by my fear or terror. The priestess smiled upon me and I felt her pride. Some of the sacrifices defiled themselves in the last moments- their terror and doubt too great and their souls would not reincarnate as highly as they could have. The priestess bent low and smelled my hair, The assistants have done well; you are so beautiful. Your will is strong and your calm pleasing. You have brought honor to your family and village.
I felt little pain now, only a dull sense of fatigue. I felt my blood welling around my ankles and wrists and could smell its metallic scent upon the air. I knew it would be flowing through the groves and channels built into the alter and would be collected at its base- to be used in future rituals and to anoint the Tog warriors in their next conquests.
Finally I smiled back at the priestess and told her I was ready. She smiled and placed the last Holxd. This one, wider than the rest, was placed below the ribs and drained the heart.
As my spirit left the shell of my body the last thing I heard was the priestess's gentle flute on the wind.
TheLizardKing
Let's talk Michelle.
This is going to be your final warning, 24 Hours to get your orders in. Unless you give me an excuse beforehand, late orders will not be accepted. I'm hoping to tear this one out quickly. We'll see how it goes.
I have 6/19 orders.
The orders I have are from;
Tog
Tamayame
Serdio
Sismondis
Termi Dor
Misthali
I have 6/19 orders.
The orders I have are from;
Tog
Tamayame
Serdio
Sismondis
Termi Dor
Misthali
