Community Request: Building Pedia Entries

Courthouse
"Liberation is not deliverance. A convict may leave prison behind but not his sentence." - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

"And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life, Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe."
- Exodus 21: 23-25

The accused was ragged, and his eyes had the look of a man at the edge to madness. "But your honor, my sick daughter-". He was interrupted. "I care not for your excuses and rationalizations. Stealing bread is stealing nonetheless." The Judicator, in his high seat, looked down on the accused, and addressed the courtroom. "The Code is quite clear. As this man is of fighting age, he shall choose. He may fight to reclaim his honor, and join the order of swords, which marches to fight the evil Calabim in a fortnight." The Judicator paused. "The court recommends this sentence. If he so chooses, however, the criminal may take 50 lashes and the loss of his non-dominant hand." The man trembled and spoke very quietly. "I'll fight." The Judicator solemnly intoned "The Law is Just." The courtroom responded in kind.
 
I finally got that Temple of Overlords entry written. Sorry for the immense delay. It's longer than I expected - got inspired.

And, uhh, I scare myself at times.

It lay at the heart of the temple, a strange amalgam of pearl and coral, a thing touched by the power of the Overlords. A living thing, it was constantly rippling, the way a stormy sea ripples, and we could hear its ripples in our minds, the music of distant waves. From the moment when I saw it, I knew I shouldn't have come: but some other part of me rejoiced, drawn to its lure like a moth is drawn to a flame.

The priests held gatherings at the beginning of each week, open for all. Newcomers would need to be taken to the chamber with the coral, while the rest of us knew the way, even the ones who'd only been there once before. From the moment we stepped to the surroundings of the temple, we could feel the faint whisper of the waves, guiding us towards the temple's heart. We approached and outsiders always felt unnerved, unable to tell why, only subconciously noticing the slight wave in our shoulders, our bodies picking up the rhythm of the coral before we even ourselves realized it.

We would gather around the coral and dance and laugh and celebrate, seeing strange visions of a vast kingdom, now buried under the sea. As the hours passed, the dance would grow faster and faster and the music would grow louder and louder. Only that the music was only in our heads, an intoxicating storm that was sweeter than any nectar. We were drunk on the coral, ready to do anything, and more than one child was conceived with a total stranger on those nights. Sometimes the priests would join into our celebration, but most of the time they would just stand aside, watching, waiting.

The nights always left me exhausted, my body in pain after I had neglected its limits. I worried about going too far - every year, there were some who'd die of the exhaustion - and occasionally I tried to stay away. But the music of the waves would always haunt me in my dreams, a faint tune stuck in my head, infuriatingly just a little too quiet to be heard. And the visions that I would have after a good temple night! I was a poet and an artist, and nothing could leave me more inspired, nothing could compare to the poems I would compose after listening to the corals. Was it more for the sake of myself or my art, I'm not sure, but I always found myself returning after a while.

One of the priests, a priestess to be exact, seemed to be taking a special interest in me, when I returned after an exceptionally long absence. She never said anything, but I could feel her eyes on me when I danced, thoughtful. I would catch the occasional whisper as she discussed something with the others, though I never made out any exact words.

After several such nights, something in the music crazed me in a way it had never crazed me before. My dance was wild, my visions feverish, my body screaming in ever increasing agony as the night progressed. I could see the others growing tired and leaving, but I could not bring myself to stop, could not leave the coral that suddenly seemed to only be singing to me. I could see in the dance of the others that they did not hear the same tune as I did: their rhythm and their steps were all wrong. So when they left I ignored them, knowing that they were deaf to the true music I was hearing.

Then, when I was alone save for her, the priestess came and joined my dance. Her dance was perfect, in complete harmony with the waves, and I watched her, enthralled by the beauty I suddenly saw in her. I sought to imitate her elegance, but my own clumsiness was apparent to me - but she did not seem to mind, for she only smiled. She took my hand, and continuing to smile, she led me away from the coral, to a part of the temple I had never been in before. I paid no heed to my surroundings - the ecstacy of the coral was nothing compared to the pleasure of her attention, every muscle in my body shivering each time she looked at me. I was lost in her, the details of her body being like a vast, deep valley I could never climb out of.

It never crossed my mind to protest as we came to the pool and she pushed me into the water. I felt something grabbing my arms and legs and pulling me down, but the priestess smiled at me, and her happiness was all that I cared for. I opened my mouth to sing a song of praise for her, and it was only then that I realized I was underwater, water filling my mouth and my lungs. For a brief moment, panic filled me and broke the spell - I screamed, and the priestess threw back her head and laughed.

------

The priestess still smiles at me, in a strange amused way that I have a hard time dechipering. It has become hard to think at things, after the drowning. It is much easier to kill, those that the priestess tells me to kill.

For a moment, I thought I felt a distant memory when I crushed the skull of the first people the priestess told me to slay. She must have seen my confusion, for she laughed in her angelic voice. With a happy gleam in her eye, she told me that the corpses at my feet were those of my wife and children. I looked at her and the bodies, and there was another momentary feeling of recalling something, but the words bore no meaning to me. I looked at the corpses and shrugged, and we left, her joy echoing in my ears.

I'm the bodyguard of the priestess, now. For as long as she is happy with me, the music of the waves will never leave me, and that is all that matters.
 
Will do, and I even missed the awesome story by Xeunay so Im double grateful for the bump.
 
Governors Manor

"Built of wood and stone dragged from mine and mill by the very hands that once were raised in anger against it."

Hall of Mirrors

"A graveyard for the vain."


Soul Forge

"If blacksmith can hammer iron so it is proof against the weather and wear of battles, so too can we temper the soul against the weakness of conscience, morality, and the wear of innocence."


Tavern


"Oh is this your first time here? Try this then, and get well acquainted. It's made of apples y'see. Well, mostly apples."

(Discworld reference).

Warrens

"It is said that the first battle cry ever uttered still resonates through its depths, ever seeking a second voice to return its call."
 
Spoiler :
“…we are not merely part librarians, part undertakers. We are the curators of our nation’s heritage; We are the ghostwriters of life and death; We are craftsmen; We are psychopomps. We are binders of souls (pause for laughter). The dead become our workspaces; Our skill becomes their cerement…”
—From Master Binder Jessen Eldritch’s speech to new apprentices

“…five liters will be more than enough, so once the blood is mixed with the anticoagulant you can move on to the next component: the bones.

The most important application of bone will be for the spine. The best bone for the spine will be the femur, as it is long and has the greatest diameter. With the femur properly boiled and cleaned (no bleaching will be necessary as this piece will be unseen), saw off the rounded ends of the femur (see Fig. 34). Now saw the femur in half from end to end. You will want a long, flat (yet slightly curved, due to the cylindrical shape of the femur) piece to serve as your spine. Using the measurements you and the subject agreed upon, cut a portion of the half-femur lengthwise (Fig. 36). Trim one end to the agreed-upon y-height of the book. Use a filing tool to clean the marrow from the hard bone tissue. This will be attached to the leather cover during the binding.

“As soon as the parchment is ready you will begin to assemble and bind the book. For this you will need the parchment (cut and folded to the appropriate dimensions), the string made from the subject’s hair (if the subject did not have enough hair, use string from the overstock shelf), the leather cover, the bone spine, and the glue."

“…package together the bound book, the subject’s ink, and the documents containing the subject’s biography and epitaphs. These are delivered to the writers’ department every evening and will be finished and ready for archival two days later.”
—Excerpts from The Binder’s Manual
There's my vision of it.
 
Can we start by transferring Xienwolf's manual into the civliopedia? With his approval, of course.
 
Can we start by transferring Xienwolf's manual into the civliopedia? With his approval, of course.

What in particular would you like added from Xienwolf's manual?

@loocas- I like your vision for the Catacomb a lot, but I dont like the entry. It focuses so much one the physical creation of the books that I think its missing the true horror of what you are purposing. Would you be willing to try another entry focusing more ont he supernatural aspect and less on the physcial?
 
Gugnir was still disoriented since being taken out of his cell. He was one of the few survivors from the most recent battle in the Khazad-Svartalfar war. When his elven imprisoners came for him, they put a burlap sack over his head and clubbed him in the head. He realized he was tied to a stake and could see small pinholes of light through the sack. He realized he was outside somewhere when he heard a too familiar sound, the sound of something being streched...

THWAP!

"Good Narym! Excellent disabling shot! With an arrow in a melee enemy's calf, he would be rendered useless. Now class, do that 3 more times and then we will do our head shot exercises."

-Archery Range instructor Shar Verihu teaching her class of apprentices

Strategy:
Archery Ranges provide 10% defense against non-gunpowder units. They are also required to build archers.
 
Oooh good! No one's done the Obsidian Gate yet. I've had this story tumbling around in my head and now I can bring it out!

"We were vastly outnumbered. The Doviello stood upon the plains beyond our walls. Their ragtag bands of warriors made up what they lacked in orginization with ruthless ferocity, strength, and numbers. We Amurites were gearing up for what we thought would be our last stand, the faces of my comrades were drawn and sorrowful, when suddenly a magical pulse came from the heart of the city, followed by a rousing cheer and a message from the commander:

'Don't worry men! Reinforcements have arrived!'

That night we routed the Doviello army. If it hadn't been for the Gate that had been built the week before, we would've been slaughtered. Fortunately, what we Amurites lack in strength, we make up for tenfold with magic!"

-From the Diary of Astalaire
 
Stigmata of the Unborn:

The profane nailed the prophet to the stone,
and had him opened to the sky.
The sheet torn from their covered eyes,
they gazed upon the unveiled world as true.
The unborn saw and screamed and wriggled in the womb,
and came unto the world adark, atainted and corrupt.

Temple of the Veil (the first paragraph being optional)

Once inside the darkened temple, a savant came up to me and ushered me towards those waiting. As the line grew shorter, pledgers swallowed up by the heavy doors, I had second thoughts about my plea but did not dare to leave.When my turn came, as I stood before the ritualist my tongue glued itself to my mouth. She leant towards me and hissed into my ear. “You wish to learn, no? To enrich your life? To learn a craft mayhaps? Perhaps you wish to become a Savant?” I nodded, thinking of my brother and his visit. He’d become the most successful fisherman almost overnight. I craved some recognition from my father.
The girl stood in line, fretting. She’d not seen him in line and was forced to wait while the others were helped by the Veil’s servants. Since the Veil was declared the state religion, temples had sprouted like weeds in all the towns. Finally the doors opened to admit her. As the ritualist came up to her, she spoke before her turn. “Has a young man with straw-blond hair been to see you? He’d be wearing simple fisherman gear.” She slapped her hand before her mouth, as the ritualist raised a wrinkled eyebrow. He watched her silently, as if waiting for something. An agonizing scream, though muffled by walls and thick carpet, sounded in the gloom. “He is learning.” The ritualist replied with not even a hint of a smile.
 
Great entries Genejack, I like your writing style. I'll get them added.
 
Woohoo.
I'll get right on some more then.
Would you like the stigmata in rhyme, perhaps?
With some work I might be able to do that.
 
Speaking of the temple pedia entries, the pedia entries for Build temple of ____ (OO, Empyrean, FoL, etc) need thier own entries because they are all copies of the entry for Build Temple of Runes.
 
Ok guys, i'm submitting this. i'm not a native english speaker, so you can imagine how difficult it was for me to write something like this. However i like ff2 so much and i simply could not resist and wrote something for it.

of course forgive me for every sintax or grammar error (it would be great if someone could correct these errors) and feel free to change or improve my entry.

edit: thanks a lot for your help!

Warrens

"When we finally conquered their city, we were not prepared to face what was hidden in these strange, ruined buldings. I was chosen to be part of an exploration team sent inside what we thought to be a shabby warehouse, but once inside the stench of rotting flesh almost stunned me. In the dim light of our lantern we saw thousand of little shiny eyes, belonging to countlesss baby orcs fighting one another or feasting on rats and other vermin. Here and there my eyes catched the shapes of pregnant orc females, their swelled wombs forcing them to sit helplessy in the dirt. We all knew war too well and knew what had to be done, but in my heart i felt like the monsters i sworn to fight, as killing children was horrible for me, regardless of their race. Our commander ordered to set fire to these warrens, and i think i will never forget their screams... that day i paid with my own humanity the price of joining the crusade ..."

- Jarn, Bannor soldier -
 
nice, although I think a different word should be used instead of scruffy, somehow it just doesn't fit in the whole defintion you have there.
 
I tried to think up a couple...

Mines of Galdur (shamelessly stolen from the band Great Big Sea)
Well there's overtime and bonus opportunities galore;
The young dwarves like their money and they all come back for more.
But soon you're knocking on, and you look older than you should;
For ev'ry bob laid on the job you pay with flesh and blood.
--Dwarven mining chant

Smokehouse
In the frozen tundra of the Age of Ice people rarely had to worry about preserving their meat for the future, for the incredibly low temperatures could keep most foodstuffs in stasis for an indefinite period. In the rare cases where hunters caught more meat than they could carry on their backs, they usually dug a hole a few feet deep and deposited it there, where the cold kept it fresh and several heavy boulders prevented scavengers. Once they lost this natural refrigeration in the Age of Rebirth though, they had to relearn how to properly treat meat against rot, generally by drying and smoking it as it hung from the rafters of a special smokehouse.

Gridlines
Most cities in Erebus lit their streets with alchemical or magical lamps placed at regular intervals, which not only prevented the stubbing of toes but also hindered criminal activity. Luchirp cities in particular were well known for the number and regularity of such lamps, though many visitors simply put this down to their penchant for magical devices. These lights actually served an even greater purpose than usual however, for hidden on the top of each lamp was a small ball of lead in the shape of an eye, with runes to Nantosuelta and Sirona scribed on the back. Invaders of Luchirp cities would unknowingly dicover the purpose of these little statues in short order, for each golem therein could 'see' through each of the eyes at once, letting them expertly counter each assault at the right place and time.
 
Demon’s Altar:

As I stood there on the blighted field, the paramount rushing towards me,
My symbol throbbed and took me back with grisling clarity.
My ascension of the reddened steps, my arrival at the altar.
Most were killed to pay the price, for the benefit of few.
As I lain down on the darkened stone, and the priest approached with bloodied blade,
I shuddered with revulsion, but that did not stop its bite.
The priest carved unto my chest a symbol of dark power,
And henceforth whenever followers of faiths high and low stand against my blade,
Voices bespeak me now, of weaknesses or plight.
Weak sword arm, thirst or secret thought, my voices tell me all.
So far, I’ve not missed a single kill, and no silly god did rise them from my sword.
As I snapped back to the field wherst the paramount was charging,
I slowly drew a second blade and waited, while the voices whispered darkly.

Temple of the Order:

The sermon was fierce as always, full of firey brimstone. We were the righteous, the sword against the darkness. Only we, Junil’s chosen, would hold back the falling shade of hell. And for this, sacrifices had to be made. We had to train harder, to be ready for war sooner. When the Confessor had finished, all praised Junil in unison and left the hall as one. I descended the steps first with pride, then with the first seedlings of some doubt.
No leave for the next 2 months, ‘cause we had to be ready the beginning of next season.
I hadn’t seen my little girl since she was but one year old, not even mentioning my wife.
And lashings for the slackers, all so we could be ready to be shipped off to fight a war half a world away. As my doubts grew, I wandered into my training yard and there stood my friends sparring under the basking sun, and the shield of Junil atop the barrack stood so bright it shone. And all my questions fell away like so many useless things.
 
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