Ashes of Erebus Civilopedia Update Project

[black_imperator]

Something like that, yes

 

[PPQ_Purple]

Here is a rough beta variant I drew up. Tell me if it fits with your overall image of the character, what I should adjust and fix and generally if it's a 0 or 10 out of 10.

Spoiler Koun History Text - Version 0.5 Beta :

They were holding him back. All of them. Denying him the power and position he deserved. It was not malice, of course. They were not evil. Well, not all of them, at least. Cassiel made a point of excluding nobody. And in his time working with the archangels Koun had learned all to well just how far this went.

Still, it was doubtful that any of them truly deliberately worked against him. The others did not hate him or want to see him destroyed. They simply saw life in a way that was incompatible with what he was trying to achieve. And as much as he may have wanted to Koun did not hate them for it, quite the opposite in fact. He was born and raised a Grigori. And the lust for freedom and empowerment that he saw in his neighbors mirrored very much his own. They all sought the same goal. The others were just not worthy of it.

In a way this was refreshing, in a frustrating way. It was like watching a child trying and failing to do a simple task. On one hand it is nice to see the attempt, even quaint. But on the other Koun was all too aware that if not for the balancing act of a literal Archangel of balance it would newer last.
People need a leader. They need someone to pick them up and hold them by the hand and show them how to make those first steps. They need someone to advise them, to guide them, to organize them and lead them against the things that crept in the shadows of this unforgiving world. And he could be this man. He should, be this man. But alas, his people felt differently. And thus, for a very long time, he was stuck.

Things were, different, now. The world was different. The events that transpired at Letum Frigus changed everything. These people, now, more than ever, needed a leader. And for once they were willing listen.

Basically the theme I went for here is that he feels he is better, smarter and more capable than the others and therefore it is only right that he should be the one making decisions for them. It's just logical that the better man should lead and the lesser follow. And it's frustrating to him that they don't see it because Cassiel is always there to smooth things out. Until he isn't any more.

 

[black_imperator]

The death of Cassiel happens in Midgar, not in Letum Frigus, apart from that, it looks good.

 

[PPQ_Purple]

The death of Cassiel happens in Midgar, not in Letum Frigus, apart from that, it looks good.

I know. The segment is not a direct reference to the actual killing of Cassiel but a more general reference to the whole content of that scenario chain. Basically I am trying to reference it all in a way that tells people its something related to Mullicams quest without giving out too much of a spoiler.

So it basically reads as "And than Mullicam tried to become the god of winter and started a chain of events that included a very significant thing that I won't tell you, you have to play the scenario, but it changed everything. And this was his opportunity."

 

[black_imperator]

if that's intended, then ok ^^

 

[PPQ_Purple]

Basically I know not everyone has played the scenarios (I have not actually finished all of them in all combinations my self...). So it has to be sort of spoiler free. Like, I know I would not be too pleased if a random pedia entry told me a major character gets killed off before I got to that point my self.

Speaking of that are the scenarios theoretically compatible with this mod because I notice that the scenario button is still there.

 

[black_imperator]

not at the moment, but i intend to fix any issue there is to make them work again.

 

[PPQ_Purple]

Now that will be cool. I genuinely can't wait.

Other than that do you overall find my style agreeable?

 

[black_imperator]

Yeah, works for me ^^

 

[PPQ_Purple]

Alright than. Do you have anything you would particularly like to see done?

 

[black_imperator]

With the quantity of text we need, feel free to work on anything that inspires you. every bit will help ^^

 

[PPQ_Purple]

Basically my main problem, well really my only problem, is that I am not really all that well versed in FFH lore beyond vaguely remembering the scenarios from a few years back. And the lore dumps have something like 600 pages between them. So absorbing all that to write anything is... daunting. You meanwhile managed to answer my questions within like 5 seconds. You must know all that by heart or something.

 

[black_imperator]

yeah, i know it well, meaning i can answer any question you may have but i need a specific topic, because, as you said, otherwise it'll be 600 pages of lore dump ^^

 

[PPQ_Purple]

Well in that case alright. I actually have one thing. Basically I was reading the lore dump and I ran into an interesting list of demons and the spheres they associate with. It has the usual succubi and minotaurs but the thing that hit me was that the Mobius Witch is associated with pride. Now I always did wonder just what the Mobius Witches are.

So like, lets do that one.

I' went through the lore using CTRL-F and the only thing I could find aside from the association with pride is this:

Mobius Witches are former humans who serve Ceridwen and have been twisted by living their life within Ceridwen's passages between worlds. Perhaps they could count as a form of demon processed from mortal souls, but they don't go through the normal processing by the machine of hell and the might not have died first.

So do you have anything more to share before I dig into Ceridwen and the pride sphere (seems to be underrepresented in the game in general) in my own research?

 

[black_imperator]

Well, a good first stop for mobius witches is their entry in the bestiary : http://kael.civfanatics.net/files/BestiaryofErebus.pdf page 8

Mobius Witch- Once human, the mobius witches live in the bizarre between worlds of Ceridwen. In Erebus they have an odd fascination with edges, corners and doorways, sometimes to the point of fearing them. Though they display little interest in relationships with humans or with each other they are as insightful to the nature of relationships as they are obtuse about the physical world. Mobius Witches are powerful spell casters, occasionally using magic unfamiliar to Erebus (rune magic originally came from them).

The Pride association is more a link to the fact that the seven summons of the sheaim seem to fit the cardinal sins. Ceridwen herself is Angel of Magic, formerly Angel of Stars, and associated with the dimension sphere.

Wrath: Minotaur
Gluttony: Manticore
Lust: Succubus
Envy: Reveler
Sloth: Tar Demon
Pride: Mobius Witch
Greed: Chaos Marauder

In addition to that, there's a small description in Os-Gabella's entry :

A mobius witch drove the carriage. Her form twisted and bent back in on itself as if she was a leather skin stretched tight over a rough stone, as if she wasn't able to fully enter this world. [...]
The tattered edges of the mobius witches robes reached through the window of the carriage and brushed up against Gaulos's neck. The touch made him shiver even in the oppressive heat of the day.

That's mostly it, with the quote you mentioned yourself

And as a bonus, a small killerclowns' story happening in galveholm

Spoiler Killerclowns' sheaim story :

Ozziel looked at the remains of the Profane, contemplating what punishment awaited those found guilty of murdering one. "I hate to state the obvious, but we need to get out of town. Something tells me the next Balor won't be quite as easily distracted. Good news is, I've got a plan. All we have to do is reach the docks. I've got a boat waiting. Bad news is..." Vranton finished. "That means we have to go through the Port District."

The Port District was inarguably the worst part of Galveholm. Aside from a larger-than-usual number of smugglers, slavers, cutpurses, cutthroats, and other unsavory characters, Galveholm's Port District boasted a worrying number of soul-hungry succubi, typically posing as prostitutes but not above assaulting their victims, chaos marauders wandering the dark alleys, and mobius witches eager to test their magic on vagrants. To finish off the vile mixture, the most violent of Galveholm's cults made their home here. They'd yet to become part of the Ashen Veil, mostly because they had no fear of or respect for any law but that given by their demonic lords. Asha drew her sword. "There will be bloodshed before this is over," she said.

They had only walked a few blocks in before Asha's prediction came true. Dusk had settled, and the worst of Galveholm's unpleasant residents were starting to become more ambitious. They tried to stay in the Port District's main roads, but this was difficult, and often, what passed for a main road was merely a wider alley. It was not long before a small gang spotted them. A few appeared in front of them. “Gold, and bodies for Mr. Skull.. Get 'em.” Vranton turned, and, not to his surprise, another squad behind them. “Didn't think you'd be getting away that easily?” They were trapped, and Ozziel didn't seem like a warrior. Asha drew her sword, but it seemed unlikely she could protect both sides. One of the gang's more eager men charged... and fell apart. Some dark figure had, moving with inhuman speed, simply sliced him in half, neatly separating his upper and lower body. His brethren stared. “Dare you challenge the mighty Ozziel?” Ozziel bellowed, waving his hands dramatically. “The next man who steps forward will suffer an even more horrific fate!”

Quietly, Vranton asked, “you're bluffing, aren't you?” Ozziel nodded. “Of course. I have no idea what the hell did that.” The eldest of the gang, presumably its leader, laughed. “A mage. This'll be fun!” Fire hurled from the thug's fingers, charging straight at Ozziel... before suddenly hissing out. The mage then exploded violently, covering his brethren in hot blood.

Vranton looked around, trying to identify the true source of the mystical mayhem protecting them. For a brief moment, he spotted a vague figured wrapped in a cloak blacker than the night itself, peering down at him. He could make little out, other than that it was clearly not human. Try though he might, Vranton simply could not bring himself to look upon long without his eyes wandering away.

Ozziel was putting on his best show, and the gang was dispersing. “Get Mr. Skull!” one screamed. Several more were slain in various horrific ways; one's skeleton seemed to take on a life of its own and tore itself out of its owners body before turning on the rest of the gang. Another was frozen into a solid block of ice, lifted up, and then dashed onto the pavement. A third began to simply melt like a candle. But a few escaped. “Yikes,” Ozziel muttered. “Our guardian angel has a sick sense of humor...”

It was not long before they were again stopped. A thin old man, covered in skulls. “You're in Ratbone territory, mage” he said. His accent was Amurite, and suggested noble lineage, although in appearance he was nothing but a bone-obsessed beggar. “You have dared to challenge us, and you shall pay.” The mage pulled out a scroll and began chanting. A series of runes appeared below him. Ozziel stared. “With a name like that I'd assume necromancer... but that looks like... law magic?”

A squad of glowing figures appeared, ancient warriors from times past. “In the name of Law, and of the One, I challenge you to a duel. We may fight, as equals, or my servants will tear you limb from limb.” Ozziel ignored the offer, asking, “how in the Hells did a law mage end up here?” “That is not your concern,” Mr. Skull declared. “Do you accept my challenge?”

And from the rooftops, a voice said, “yes.”

Mr. Skull looked up, and then stared. “I... I... withdraw my request... I... submit.” “Not accepted.” The figure landed catlike in front of Mr. Skull. “ I grant you the first move,” it said politely. Mr. Skull staggered backwards, before attempting a particularly awesome bolt of flame. His opponent was unscathed. The stranger yawned and, with a wave of his hand, lifted Mr. Skull bodily, flipped him so his head pointed towards the ground, and smashed him down with absurd force.

“Who... are you?” “A friend. Fear not, none shall bother you on your way home.” The figure then added something in Balseraph, then vanished. Seeing questioning glances, Ozziel said, “It's hard to translate. A Balseraph saying, of sorts. 'You shall never fear boredom again.' Equally appropriate for earning a beautiful woman or being sent to a horrific dungeon... anything that will change your life, for better or for worse...”

“Really,” Vranton's savior thought to himself. “Do they think all this was an accident?” Of course, things were going perfectly. There was a saying, after all... if you want a Balseraph to open a box, you have to let them steal it first.

 

[black_imperator]

it appears that the EiTB mod team had the same idea at some point, here is a similar thread : http://www.realmsbeyond.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=7043 i haven't looked at it yet in the details so i don't know how much of it is actually useful, but that may help

 

[PPQ_Purple]

Basically this is a tricky one. How do I go about depicting it. Like, it's clear these are basically creatures that don't belong to this world in a sense as meaningful as it is for the angels and demons. Like, they are definitively otherworldly. But at the same time they have, as you said little interest in relationships and presumably just pursue what ever magical goals they have. So the tricky part is coming up with a situation where one could be encountered organically.

Like, doesn't that story you posted pertain to them? If all else fails we could use that.

 

[black_imperator]

not really ^^.

one of the easier settings would be a low-level Sheaim adept or veil follower encountering one or maybe one of Gabella's Daughters(see following story for reference). There are certainly more than a few hanging around in Galveholm. Use the doorway thing and their insight on relationships. ( right now, i'm thinking some kind of mock confessional or fortune teller where you stand before a shadowy doorway and some wise voice talks back to you, maybe just before dawn so that their shape is progressely revealed)

Spoiler Gabella's Daughters :

The ambient brightness of a summer's night can be beautiful and enjoyable.

It can also be a huge bother. She turned over once again, facing the wall and
closing her eyes as she waited for sleep to take hold.

She never could get the trick of sleeping in a bright room down. Some of her sisters
- mostly the soldiers, though she talks to few of them - can sleep even during the day,
catching what rest there is to find between battles, but for her, it's impossible. Even
during the winter, she has a hard time falling asleep, but without darkness, it is near impossible.

From behind, a soft chittering, the almost-snoring of her sister and closest friend who is soundly
asleep - as always - adds its weight to the elements conspiring to keep her awake.

Minutes pass.

With a final sigh of resignation, she leaves her bed - taking care not to make too much noise, though
not really worried about waking her roommate from what might best be described as hibernation -
she pulls on a robe and leaves their room, heading down the silent stone hallways towards the kitchen.

No other sisters stalk the quiet building - she knows some will be in the guard room, near the entrance,
and yet others patrolling the outer walls, but here, near the sleeping quarters, all is quiet.

The kitchen. Quiet as well - the cooks will be getting up in only a few hours, to prepare breakfast, but right
now, not a soul in sight. A bit of searching manages to turn up a piece of bread, some cheese, and a mug of
water (wine is reserved for visiting foreign ladies, under most circumstances, and she never really understood
why some of her elder sisters choose to drink that vile mead). Pulling out a chair in the dining hall (there is a
*grand* dining hall in the palace, as well, but that is only used a few times a year when everyone eats together)
she starts to break off chunks of bread, eating with an unexpected appetite for her small body.

About halfway through her meal, the door opens behind her, and footsteps announce the arrival of a fellow
sister of sleeplessness. A kind of greeting - muffled by a mouthful of bread, which is soon devoured - before
turning around and seeing... no one? Sounds from the kitchen beyond solves that mystery - obviously, someone
else also found themselves looking for something to eat at this time of night. Reaching for her cup, she finds it
empty, and so goes to join her unknown companion in the kitchen for a refill.

Through a doorway, and in between the long rows of benches, storage cabinets, large furnace-like ovens and
other various implements used to feet a palace-full of girls, she stops. And stares. Twitches as if to turn
and run, then stops dead once again, eyes wide open.

The Mother, Os-Gabella, Undisputed Queen of the Sheaim Nation, Scourge of Heathens, the Dark Goddess,
and probably several dozen other titles given by enemies and allies alike, in a plain black dress, rummaging
through a cupboard before, with a satisfied nod, pulling out an onion and a loaf of bread.

She turns, long back hair framing that pale, ageless face all her daughters know and love - and speaks.

"Oh? My daughter... Linn, is it? How is the night treating you?"

No response. Mother, who most only ever meet in person during their introduction as newborn, and
during the ceremony when they reach fifteen years of age... speaking to her? Rummaging through
the kitchen in the middle of the night? Linn stares, mouth slowly opening, then shutting again.
Like a fish, she herself thinks, unable to speak.

With a flick of her wrist, Os-Gabella sends the onion flying. Years of training take over, and Linn reaches out
and grabs it deftly out of the air. Her Mother turns back to the cabinet and withdraws another onion for herself,
then turns back, an unreadable look - as usual - on her face.

"Ah--- It--- Um, all is well, Mother. I am merely having trouble sleeping, with the night being this bright."

The ancient queen nods, and picks up a bottle of wine she apparently placed next to her, before heading past
Linn towards the dining room.

"Please, come, sit with me."

"Ah, Yes, of course, Mother."

They make their way back - Mother is suprisingly short, Linn thinks as she follows - she might be taller herself, and
there are many among her sisters who are taller yet. Os-Gabella takes a seat opposite where Linn has left her
unfinished bread, and gestures for her daughter to sit, before pouring wine for them both.

Linn, still in shock, sits straight and stiff. Unsure of where to rest her gaze, it flickers back and forth, but is mostly
concentrated on the regal woman before her.

"Try to relax. I am not so frightening, am I?" Her voice is soft, kind, much different from the powerful and decisive Mother
of official speeches. And there is sadness. So much sadness...

"Oh--, no, not at all." She tries to relax, and reaches some form of compromise between that and wide-eyed disbelief.

Os-Gabella finishes peeling her onion with a small knife produced from somewhere, before cutting a small piece
and eating it - gracefully, with no sound whatsoever. Somewhat calmed down, Linn continues eating, and tastes
the wine - it is good, if a bit unusual. Her mother speaks again.

"Linn. You are one of my agents in this city, are you not?"

"Yes, Mother."

Os-Gabella nods slightly as she continues.
"There is no need to be so formal - this is not an audience, or anything. How are things, down in the streets?"

The situation might be unusual, but this, she can do. Reports are part of her daily routine, after all.

"Things are mostly calm. The riots from two years ago are almost forgotten, and we keep a tight leash on
almost all the groups that might cause trouble again. There is still the occasional disturbance, and we know
several of our neighbouring nations have unturned spies in the city, but those are the only major problems."

Another nod from her Mother. "Good... that is as good as can be expected. How about you, daughter?
How are things with you?"

Slightly more hesitation, but she feels a bit braver (could the wine be getting to her already? No, the cup is almost full)
and answers quickly. "It is well, there are no problems."

A slight, sad, smile - the first she has seen from her Mother, so far - and a nod. A short pause.

Linn finishes her bread, and is starting to work on the onion.

"I just now finished another ritual. A complete failure, but things are progressing, if ever so slowly.
Tell me, Linn. What do you think of the world?"

Squirming slightly as those sad eyes come to rest on her, Linn hesitantly opens her mouth.
"The world, Mother? I... I don't know.
I love you, and my sisters. I like this palace, and even the city.
But the world? I don't know."

"The world... is old.
It is still a place of beauty, and of pleasure.
There are still things to discover, places to go, people to meet, and to love.
But it is... old. I have lived for a long time, my daughter.
I have lived for a very long time. I have raised children, and seen them prosper,
grow old, and die. I have seen fire, and I have seen ice. Light, shadow.
Good, and evil. The wonders of nature, and the wonders of man.
I, too, am old, and this world is older than even I.
My time has come, and my time has passed.
My child, I wish to die. And with that wish, I saw something else, something...
no other had seen before me. This world and I, we are similar.
The time of this world, too, has passed. This world, too, wishes to die.
They say I am selfish, and evil. But it is not merely for myself I wish an end upon this world.
I want to grant this world's wish. I wish to give it the gift all others withhold, and in doing
so, grant myself the one thing I wish for, these days.

Sometimes, I waver. Sometimes, I look at my children - look at you - and I think,
"These girls, who I would live for, could do the same for this world.".
Then, I look outwards. I see man, and orc, elf and dwarf, all crawling across
the face of the world like locusts. Then, I know again what must be done.
For the sake of this world, I must die with it.

That damned bunch of bones, who call themselves a mage - he, if anyone, serves
to remind me why this world must die. If this world was still young enough, alive
enough, still wishing to live, it would not allow such as he to walk its surface...
He a skulking shadow, a miserable pile of secrets, representing the ugliness of man,
which heralds the end of this world...

I would spare you if I could, my daughter - you have not yet lived to become
too old - for you, there is still life to be lived. But this world, it is not a place for such.
So I cannot. For the sake of this world, and my own, I cannot...

I am sorry, my daughter. To have you listen to the babbling of an old woman.

Please, speak not of this night, to your sisters, lest they falter in their steps,
knowing the madness of their mother."

A smooth pale hand reaches out - flawless, as if carved by the hand of a master
sculptor - and touches the cheek of a young woman.

"Go now, daughter. You - and each one of your sisters - are ever too beautiful for what I
have you do, in mind as in spirit."

Linn leaves, and returns to her room. Perhaps she is able to sleep, now.

In the dining room, for a few minutes, an old woman drinks alone.
Tomorrow, she has a war to start, more of her daughters to send to unmarked graves
in foreign lands. But it must be done.

another quote that may help to see the general sheaim society and build a setting is this one by Kael :

I have half a story written about a decent man living in the Sheaim capital. He is in charge of some old, horrid women that clean an inn. The things he finds in the inn rooms from time to time are disgusting. He describes it as: "Many travelers passed through Galveholm and took the opportunity to partake in the worst sorts of depravity."

I think thats pretty typical of the Sheaim. It has all of the normal aspects of medievil/fantasy society, but is incredibly depraved and corrupt. The man continues to muse about what happens in the Inn rooms (and Sheaim society as a whole) by saying: "The Sheaim believed in the sanctity of personal expression, though it applied more to the visiting Emrys than the diseased whore he hired for the evening."

I dont think the common man thinks or cares much about the apoclypse. They are much more concerned about things that directly impact their lives. I made the man in the story a good man just to highlight the corruption around him. Even his wife berates him for not spreading rumors that the inn manager has been indiscrete about his guests so that he can take over the managers job.

Depravity is seen as freedom inside the society and immorality as tolerance. The difference between the Sheaim and the Calabim is that in the Sheaim society the low class really does have a chance to rise up. Each man is viewed on his own merits, but in order to rise in the society he has to be willing to sacrifice any part of morality or virtue that he may have. This is what draws a lot of people from other cultures to the Sheaim, but usually only the most corrupt candidates.

 

[PPQ_Purple]

That's an interesting and to me at least unexpected thing. I always thought that they were more like one of those modern cults. You know, the stuff where people of a common belief band together to found a compound that than turns into an echo chamber transforming the whole thing into a hyper radicalized crazed community.

That's why I like FFH. Every time you think you have it figured out it surprises you.

 

[TheIO]

Sorry for the long break. I've finished second year now, so I've a bit more free time available to get back to this lot.

it appears that the EiTB mod team had the same idea at some point, here is a similar thread : http://www.realmsbeyond.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=7043 i haven't looked at it yet in the details so i don't know how much of it is actually useful, but that may help

That's actually bloody useful there. Thanks.

I've just done entries for all the technologies that don't have them. They're a little bit of a mishmash, but they should be good to go in:

Alchemy
The true power of alchemy is in the fact that, once a fireball has been bottled into a suitable receptacle, anybody can use it. It’s that democratisation of magic, I believe, which is why so few nations support the study of the field.
Felix Askanier, Scholar

Bronze Working
What’s so often forgotten about bronze is that, when cast properly, armour made from it is stronger than armour made from iron. But finding both copper and tin in the same vicinity happens far less frequently than people would prefer, and the difference when it comes to weapons is splitting hairs at best.
Felix Askanier, Scholar

Engineering
The crossbow is one of the marvels of the Age of Rebirth, being able to stop a charging knight at a hundred paces. The name “crossbow”, of course, derives from how said knights felt about the weapon.
Felix Askanier, Scholar

Fishing
There is a great advantage for the common man by fishing instead of hunting – a king might fence off a forest, but no king has yet found a way to fence off the sea.
Felix Askanier, Scholar

Steam Power
The greatest invention of the Mechanos is not the musket. It’s the realisation that with enough hot air you can achieve anything.
Felix Askanier, Scholar

The Gift
Any in-depth study of the Scions of Patria must naturally begin with the caveat that all of them are dead. Any study done by any living person must also end with said caveat. They don’t like researchers over there.
Felix Askanier, Scholar.

Trade
Patria of old had the benefits of both well-maintained methods of communication and a single market without internal barriers. The latter have been replaced with external barriers between the nations. The former were only recently re-established.
Felix Askanier, Scholar

White Hand
The Age of Ice was when Erebus had 400 years of winter. It’s a damning indictment of the Age of Rebirth that there’s people who have it bad enough to think that things were better back then.
Felix Askanier, Scholar