Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Angst, I would wholeheartedly support that. And give you every aid in story writing. (Not for any IC gain of course, afaik the two Exatai still hate each other.)
End of Empires - N3S III
- Thread starter North King
- Start date
Angst
Rambling and inconsistent
I know, but the Ilfolk are just of some strange reason really interesting to me. I have this fetish for controlling distant minors, can't help it. Perhaps it's my Danish genes.
Then again, I might be able to make the Kothari to what the Hu'ut never became.
Then again, I might be able to make the Kothari to what the Hu'ut never became.
Angst
Rambling and inconsistent
As if I'd do that if I played them 
Angst
Rambling and inconsistent
I will pull you all with me into my grave.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Ewwww. Why would I want to lay next to/on top of/below of/inside of a dozen or so men in a ditch 6 feet deep?
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
One week! Might have some flavor miniupdate up today.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Since you put both your orders and the diplo into one PM I assumed you weren't relying on the diplomacy to finalize them.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
I just wanted to bump this to say that I am sorry for my absence. I will definitely have at least one story up before the deadline.
tuxedohamm
Disguised as crow.
To: Trahana
From: Naran
While we are not interested in declaring any limits to our influence on the uncivilized, we will not encroach on those under your own influence. As such, we can agree to mutual influence of the area.
Fair.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
For the record, I'm aiming for somewhere in the range of a 1-day turnaround from orders to update, so I'd really like them on time.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
OOOOOHSNAP. It's this Saturday.
It is said, by the wise of Old Farou, that the human body is a merger of the substances of the three spirits, the Thaeraia, Coraia and Haiao- flesh from the earth, blood from the water, heat from on high. During their marriage, they are united to create life. At life’s end, so say the wise, these components separate, returning to their origins- blood drains, flesh returns to earth and the sacred fire of life is returned to Haiao.
This much, as far as I have ascertained, is entirely true. However, the wise are content to state ‘life’ and ‘death’, and leave these things be. I find this contrary to the pursuit of divine knowledge. Leave nothing uninvestigated, for through investigation, one finds beauty. One finds the holy circle. Only through unbridled investigation and inquisitiveness can one find God.
For these reasons, I have not contented myself to accept life as it is, and death as I am told it is. I have ever sought to find that which lies beyond our knowledge, and my chosen field is that of Maolaia, the workings of the body.
I have seen the beat of a living heart. I have dissected the elegant machinery of the eye. I have watched as the transcendence takes place, from blood to water, from flesh to earth. It is neither clean nor tidy, as the wise in their pristine halls may like to imagine. But I have experienced it, and through it, I have come close to Understanding.
-Foreword to Aluoda Raelief’s Magnum Opus, Maolaia
Snick snick snick. The spring shears sliced their way cleanly through. Dark, cool blood oozed its way out of the incision, only to be dabbed away by a thoroughly darkened cloth.
Aluoda leaned in closer, continuing his dabbing until the wound was dry. He may have looked the part of a fragile old man, with his weathered hands and face, forked grey beard and balding head, but he had the constitution of a beast of burden.
“Kosti! Bring me the muscle knife!”
Aluoda’s arm reached out expectantly, and he felt the young Uggor boy’s hand, carefully placing the blade in his hand.
“Thank you.”
Aluoda leaned in closer, nudging a lens down towards his handiwork. The lens was just a simple piece of spun glasswork, but to the Faronun maolaiar it was a treasure beyond measure, second only to one object in the universe- the tome of sketches and notes which he had been accumulating over the past several decades. Light filtered dimly into the room, through angled slits in the walls, providing just enough illumination to work by. With slips and slices, Aluoda cut his way through the fat (she had been a rather buxom woman), blood vessels and muscle tissues, until he’s reached his destination- the bone. Kosti reached in to help as Aluoda worked his way around the limb, gradually denuding the upper right leg of flesh before using a smaller knife to clear off remaining tissue.
The Faronun leaned back from his work, his arms thoroughly soaked in dark blood.
“Well, isn’t that something.”
Kosti looked intently at the bone.
“I can see where it’s healed.”
A broad grin spread across Aluoda’s face. He had been expecting to have to repeat his last week’s lesson, but young Kosti had a mind like a trap.
“Right you are my boy! Here, take a closer look for yourself.”
The old Faronun hoisted his young protégé up to the lens, and the two animatedly discussed the sutures on the woman’s femur- allegedly formed from a broken limb she had suffered as a young girl. The wound had been set well- both Kosti and Aluoda had seen the bones of cripples and hobbles, which all too often were healed in twisted, unnatural manners. The older man fetched the ‘bloody book’ to sketch the bone and compare it with past pictures. The bloody book was their working tome- Kosti would dare not to touch Aluoda’s draft of Maolaia without thoroughly cleaning himself.
The two continued their work for several hours. For a time, they pointed out their respective observations to the other, in the odd mixture of Uggor and Faronun that was the common language in Aluoda’s hospital. The older man muttered a few cryptic prayers as he went along, invoking strange and foreign spirits from his far-off homeland in Faron.
Kosti always asked about these- they were not prayers for the dead like those a proper Iralliamite would make. Aluoda would say that there was a lot more to the world than what the Grandpatriarch said, before politely asking Kosti to never repeat that sentiment in public. Kosti had always found that confusing- the Grandpatriarch was supposed to always speak truth... but he didn’t talk about anything. Perhaps if he didn’t mention something, men like Aluoda could find the answers for the unasked questions without him.
As the day wore on and the air in the room grew thicker and more pungent, their talk gradually faded out, as they concentrated on the routine autopsy. At long last, Aluoda broke the silence.
“Someday, I’m going to move us out of here.”
“Out of Lumada?”
“Back to Faron! Out of this backwater.”
Aluoda always called the city of Lumada a backwater. The idea made Kosti laugh. Nothing could be bigger than Lumada. Except maybe Gaci.
“Have I ever told you what I’ll do when I get back there?”
Aluoda had told Kosti many times, but the boy knew that the old man loved talking about his plans, so he remained silent.
“I’ll set up a great school, in southlands of Helsia! Students from across the world shall come to study there, and we’ll solve the mysteries of life!”
“And I’ll stay here to run the hospital?”
“No!” laughed Aluoda, “You’re much too smart, we’ll let Ekki or one of the others run the hospital. You’ll come with me to Faron, and be the best of my students!”
The older man always laughed as he told the story. Kosti was never quite sure what he was laughing about- the land of Helsia did sound very nice. Aluoda spoke of going back so very often, but he never did.
Some day, Kosti would ask why.
This much, as far as I have ascertained, is entirely true. However, the wise are content to state ‘life’ and ‘death’, and leave these things be. I find this contrary to the pursuit of divine knowledge. Leave nothing uninvestigated, for through investigation, one finds beauty. One finds the holy circle. Only through unbridled investigation and inquisitiveness can one find God.
For these reasons, I have not contented myself to accept life as it is, and death as I am told it is. I have ever sought to find that which lies beyond our knowledge, and my chosen field is that of Maolaia, the workings of the body.
I have seen the beat of a living heart. I have dissected the elegant machinery of the eye. I have watched as the transcendence takes place, from blood to water, from flesh to earth. It is neither clean nor tidy, as the wise in their pristine halls may like to imagine. But I have experienced it, and through it, I have come close to Understanding.
-Foreword to Aluoda Raelief’s Magnum Opus, Maolaia
Snick snick snick. The spring shears sliced their way cleanly through. Dark, cool blood oozed its way out of the incision, only to be dabbed away by a thoroughly darkened cloth.
Aluoda leaned in closer, continuing his dabbing until the wound was dry. He may have looked the part of a fragile old man, with his weathered hands and face, forked grey beard and balding head, but he had the constitution of a beast of burden.
“Kosti! Bring me the muscle knife!”
Aluoda’s arm reached out expectantly, and he felt the young Uggor boy’s hand, carefully placing the blade in his hand.
“Thank you.”
Aluoda leaned in closer, nudging a lens down towards his handiwork. The lens was just a simple piece of spun glasswork, but to the Faronun maolaiar it was a treasure beyond measure, second only to one object in the universe- the tome of sketches and notes which he had been accumulating over the past several decades. Light filtered dimly into the room, through angled slits in the walls, providing just enough illumination to work by. With slips and slices, Aluoda cut his way through the fat (she had been a rather buxom woman), blood vessels and muscle tissues, until he’s reached his destination- the bone. Kosti reached in to help as Aluoda worked his way around the limb, gradually denuding the upper right leg of flesh before using a smaller knife to clear off remaining tissue.
The Faronun leaned back from his work, his arms thoroughly soaked in dark blood.
“Well, isn’t that something.”
Kosti looked intently at the bone.
“I can see where it’s healed.”
A broad grin spread across Aluoda’s face. He had been expecting to have to repeat his last week’s lesson, but young Kosti had a mind like a trap.
“Right you are my boy! Here, take a closer look for yourself.”
The old Faronun hoisted his young protégé up to the lens, and the two animatedly discussed the sutures on the woman’s femur- allegedly formed from a broken limb she had suffered as a young girl. The wound had been set well- both Kosti and Aluoda had seen the bones of cripples and hobbles, which all too often were healed in twisted, unnatural manners. The older man fetched the ‘bloody book’ to sketch the bone and compare it with past pictures. The bloody book was their working tome- Kosti would dare not to touch Aluoda’s draft of Maolaia without thoroughly cleaning himself.
The two continued their work for several hours. For a time, they pointed out their respective observations to the other, in the odd mixture of Uggor and Faronun that was the common language in Aluoda’s hospital. The older man muttered a few cryptic prayers as he went along, invoking strange and foreign spirits from his far-off homeland in Faron.
Kosti always asked about these- they were not prayers for the dead like those a proper Iralliamite would make. Aluoda would say that there was a lot more to the world than what the Grandpatriarch said, before politely asking Kosti to never repeat that sentiment in public. Kosti had always found that confusing- the Grandpatriarch was supposed to always speak truth... but he didn’t talk about anything. Perhaps if he didn’t mention something, men like Aluoda could find the answers for the unasked questions without him.
As the day wore on and the air in the room grew thicker and more pungent, their talk gradually faded out, as they concentrated on the routine autopsy. At long last, Aluoda broke the silence.
“Someday, I’m going to move us out of here.”
“Out of Lumada?”
“Back to Faron! Out of this backwater.”
Aluoda always called the city of Lumada a backwater. The idea made Kosti laugh. Nothing could be bigger than Lumada. Except maybe Gaci.
“Have I ever told you what I’ll do when I get back there?”
Aluoda had told Kosti many times, but the boy knew that the old man loved talking about his plans, so he remained silent.
“I’ll set up a great school, in southlands of Helsia! Students from across the world shall come to study there, and we’ll solve the mysteries of life!”
“And I’ll stay here to run the hospital?”
“No!” laughed Aluoda, “You’re much too smart, we’ll let Ekki or one of the others run the hospital. You’ll come with me to Faron, and be the best of my students!”
The older man always laughed as he told the story. Kosti was never quite sure what he was laughing about- the land of Helsia did sound very nice. Aluoda spoke of going back so very often, but he never did.
Some day, Kosti would ask why.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Awesome story, Iggy! I love the non-statesmen type characters. 
das
Regeneration In Process
...When Ayasi Fifth-Frei returned from his Southern March, the city dressed in a festive way. Messengers arrived ahead of time, speaking of the army’s progress across the southern reaches of the Empire. Gloom and suspicion were abandoned. Colourful banners were unfurled. The horns and drums of Moti had pushed out the gentler instruments of the court, filling the city with their joyful, martial music; some had complained, but most agreed this was appropriate when welcoming home a victorious army. Shopkeepers and stall-owners lowered prices. Magistrates sent petty criminals to help prepare for celebrations, tempting them with an earlier release. The pious and the powerful praised the Good God in the old Great Church for bringing the Ayasi back.
Old Councillor Afari, wizened and weary, bent by his age and by the travails of the recent years, spoke to his trusted guests as he beheld the exultant city from the balcony of his grand city house: “How glorious it is, despite the envy and the slander of the small-minded and evil-hearted, to dwell here, in the middle of the world. Our city is a miracle in itself that proves the favour of the Beneficient Power. Look at the mountains that surround it on all sides. In older days, there hardly was any life here; just passing herders whose names shall never become known, and who themselves knew not the Good God or the Chief-of-Chiefs. And yet, the power of the Empire had brought here roads and palaces, walls and buildings, churches and markets. There is no other place in the world that is quite like this, and as long as our people have faith in the One Above and His Divine Appointee, the dynasty of Kotui and Gaci, this city will continue to stand and thrive amidst the mountains, and it will never be disputed as the centre of the world. For all the roads lead to Gaci-City, and today those roads will bring here our prince and ruler, and peace shall be restored at the heart of Cosmos.”
The blessed elephants announced the army’s arrival with their thunderous trunks. They marched ahead of it as befits the members of the Imperial Family, displaying the might and glory of the Ayasi. The great body of the infantry came next, marching along the Imperial Road: Bisrian spearmen and Liealb archers, the Bahran warriors with their curved swords and javelins, the heavily armoured fighters of the Sesh and the swift-footed auxiliaries from old Krato, as well as the countless armies of Moti cities and the exuberant and prideful swordsmen and axemen of the Animal Families, and last but not least, the Golden Hats, grateful bodyguards of the Ayasi. On their right side rode the champions of the Horse Family on their magnificent animal brethren they have bred for war, followed closely by those of other Families riding lesser kindred of those Horses. On the left side of the infantry rode the cavalry of other nations, the Bisrians and the Krato; yet the greatest attention came to the Servile Satar in their fearsome masks, that proud horse-riding people now turned to the service of Opporia and Ayasi. The prince himself rode in the back of this mighty force, surrounded by his closest friends, lieutenants and retinue. Thus he gave the city more time to prepare to greet him, while he himself was in a thoughtful mood and conversed with his brother, Tarci.
“Do you hear the ancient music and see the banners flying in the city, brother?” asked the pious prince, contemplating the sights and sounds that now reached his attention.
“The people greet you after a long absence. No doubt the magistrates and courtiers wished to give you a particularly loud and ostentatious reception.” Thus spoke Tarci, known for his mistrust of the court and contempt for such displays as these.
“And why is that, my brother?” querried the pale-faced Ayasi, rubbing his chin in deep thought.
“They surely wish to soften your heart and warm your stomach, so as to make sure you are better-disposed towards them now that you have returned and will hold court,” Tarci replied, his rare, piercing blue eyes staring into the distance. “Though you are Emperor, my brother, when you are not here it is as though someone else rules your Empire, and that one does not have as much in the way of respect or obedience. Elsewhere in your Empire, this might not matter as much, for people who do not see the Ayasi every day may act as though you are still in the Mountains’ Jewel. But in the great city itself, especially in the palace, your people will act differently when you are not here: they will be reckless and not afraid of punishment.”
Fifth-Frei pondered this, raising his eyebrows in bemusement. “I do not think there is as much harm as you say here,” he spoke at last, as the procession neared the gate. “What joy is there for a ruler in awing his people into obedience and good behaviour through his presence? They have good laws already, and good people left to keep them in check. The court need not live as warriors on review every day to preserve peace and law in the Empire.” And, smiling, he turned to watch the elephants enter the Moti Gate.
Tarci nodded, but did not agree. He knew the Ayasi would not be so easily deterred from his plans.
As they entered the city, passing by the richly decorated and sweetly scented buildings, Fifth-Frei sighed. “They greet us as if we were heroes of old, the likes of those who had triumphed over the Satar. Yet what have we done, my brother?”
“We have answered your subject’s call for help and brought lands from Firidi to Parna under your rule. It was a good war, for with little loss we have upheld our honour, supported our allies, brought low our enemies and established ourselves in a place where no great power ruled before,” was Tarci’s patient answer.
But Fifth-Frei shook his noble head. “Those lands are hardly of much value, though it is good to see our good ways spread to the southerners. But even so, they were not fully ignorant of them before, and I fear the Anzai have misled me and exaggerated the threat posed by those people. We had lost more men to disease than to iron, and triumphed over simple jungle-dwellers and townsfolk. There was no glory there.”
“The value of your conquests will be more apparent once the seed we’ve planted can take root,” Tarci replied with caution, as it was he who had encouraged Fifth-Frei to push on after the early gains. “But if you think more of glory, brother...”
“Come now, my brother,” Fifth-Frei answered, hiding his irritation at Tarci’s qualms. “It is unseemly that we should argue so in public while sober,” he smiled. “Let us take joy in the festivities as we head to the palace instead.”
And so they had decided, but the first seeds of doubt had been planted in Ayasi Fifth-Frei’s heart.
To be continued.
Old Councillor Afari, wizened and weary, bent by his age and by the travails of the recent years, spoke to his trusted guests as he beheld the exultant city from the balcony of his grand city house: “How glorious it is, despite the envy and the slander of the small-minded and evil-hearted, to dwell here, in the middle of the world. Our city is a miracle in itself that proves the favour of the Beneficient Power. Look at the mountains that surround it on all sides. In older days, there hardly was any life here; just passing herders whose names shall never become known, and who themselves knew not the Good God or the Chief-of-Chiefs. And yet, the power of the Empire had brought here roads and palaces, walls and buildings, churches and markets. There is no other place in the world that is quite like this, and as long as our people have faith in the One Above and His Divine Appointee, the dynasty of Kotui and Gaci, this city will continue to stand and thrive amidst the mountains, and it will never be disputed as the centre of the world. For all the roads lead to Gaci-City, and today those roads will bring here our prince and ruler, and peace shall be restored at the heart of Cosmos.”
The blessed elephants announced the army’s arrival with their thunderous trunks. They marched ahead of it as befits the members of the Imperial Family, displaying the might and glory of the Ayasi. The great body of the infantry came next, marching along the Imperial Road: Bisrian spearmen and Liealb archers, the Bahran warriors with their curved swords and javelins, the heavily armoured fighters of the Sesh and the swift-footed auxiliaries from old Krato, as well as the countless armies of Moti cities and the exuberant and prideful swordsmen and axemen of the Animal Families, and last but not least, the Golden Hats, grateful bodyguards of the Ayasi. On their right side rode the champions of the Horse Family on their magnificent animal brethren they have bred for war, followed closely by those of other Families riding lesser kindred of those Horses. On the left side of the infantry rode the cavalry of other nations, the Bisrians and the Krato; yet the greatest attention came to the Servile Satar in their fearsome masks, that proud horse-riding people now turned to the service of Opporia and Ayasi. The prince himself rode in the back of this mighty force, surrounded by his closest friends, lieutenants and retinue. Thus he gave the city more time to prepare to greet him, while he himself was in a thoughtful mood and conversed with his brother, Tarci.
“Do you hear the ancient music and see the banners flying in the city, brother?” asked the pious prince, contemplating the sights and sounds that now reached his attention.
“The people greet you after a long absence. No doubt the magistrates and courtiers wished to give you a particularly loud and ostentatious reception.” Thus spoke Tarci, known for his mistrust of the court and contempt for such displays as these.
“And why is that, my brother?” querried the pale-faced Ayasi, rubbing his chin in deep thought.
“They surely wish to soften your heart and warm your stomach, so as to make sure you are better-disposed towards them now that you have returned and will hold court,” Tarci replied, his rare, piercing blue eyes staring into the distance. “Though you are Emperor, my brother, when you are not here it is as though someone else rules your Empire, and that one does not have as much in the way of respect or obedience. Elsewhere in your Empire, this might not matter as much, for people who do not see the Ayasi every day may act as though you are still in the Mountains’ Jewel. But in the great city itself, especially in the palace, your people will act differently when you are not here: they will be reckless and not afraid of punishment.”
Fifth-Frei pondered this, raising his eyebrows in bemusement. “I do not think there is as much harm as you say here,” he spoke at last, as the procession neared the gate. “What joy is there for a ruler in awing his people into obedience and good behaviour through his presence? They have good laws already, and good people left to keep them in check. The court need not live as warriors on review every day to preserve peace and law in the Empire.” And, smiling, he turned to watch the elephants enter the Moti Gate.
Tarci nodded, but did not agree. He knew the Ayasi would not be so easily deterred from his plans.
As they entered the city, passing by the richly decorated and sweetly scented buildings, Fifth-Frei sighed. “They greet us as if we were heroes of old, the likes of those who had triumphed over the Satar. Yet what have we done, my brother?”
“We have answered your subject’s call for help and brought lands from Firidi to Parna under your rule. It was a good war, for with little loss we have upheld our honour, supported our allies, brought low our enemies and established ourselves in a place where no great power ruled before,” was Tarci’s patient answer.
But Fifth-Frei shook his noble head. “Those lands are hardly of much value, though it is good to see our good ways spread to the southerners. But even so, they were not fully ignorant of them before, and I fear the Anzai have misled me and exaggerated the threat posed by those people. We had lost more men to disease than to iron, and triumphed over simple jungle-dwellers and townsfolk. There was no glory there.”
“The value of your conquests will be more apparent once the seed we’ve planted can take root,” Tarci replied with caution, as it was he who had encouraged Fifth-Frei to push on after the early gains. “But if you think more of glory, brother...”
“Come now, my brother,” Fifth-Frei answered, hiding his irritation at Tarci’s qualms. “It is unseemly that we should argue so in public while sober,” he smiled. “Let us take joy in the festivities as we head to the palace instead.”
And so they had decided, but the first seeds of doubt had been planted in Ayasi Fifth-Frei’s heart.
To be continued.
