End of Empires - N3S III
- Thread starter North King
- Start date
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Haha, so much for the top of the page.
That said, the update is mostly done, so it would be a little too late for orders at this point, sorry.
That said, the update is mostly done, so it would be a little too late for orders at this point, sorry.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Ok guys, we can rustle up 18 stories in 18-odd hours! 9 Hours! I'll finish a couple after Lunch. Can someone post after me so I can edit one in and then post again without double posting? Thanks!
Let's move that update up!
EDIT: Changed to 9 Hours on request.
Let's move that update up!
EDIT: Changed to 9 Hours on request.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
The Low Trade
"I have seen more evil done under light than in darkness."
Talan the Elder, The Talani Fragments
Part One
Part Two
---
Part Three: The Brink of Cataclypse
"It bleeds my liver to say that Taleldil is not a God. He is a god-in-potentiality. And this why our struggle is urgent."
-Talan the Elder, The Talani Fragments
---
His bloodstained body was chained to two separate posts and spread-eagled, like he was trying to fly.
Evvico viewed the scene with distaste. Torture was a regrettable but necessary episode in getting what he wanted.
“So…this is justice,” the Prince of the Scroll coughed, blood trickling down his chin and neck. “I had expected at least a mock trial.”
“Cede the city of Alma to the Princedom of the Sea, where it rightfully belongs, and you will have a quick end,” said the Accan prince. “Even now, my troops are preparing to besiege Atracta. If you refuse, the city will fall, and your entire line will be extinguished.”
“All of this…for Alma?” Arteras started to laugh. “Did it occur to you to try asking nicely?”
Evvico smiled without pleasure. “This is nice. Only one man has to die for a proper restoration of the balance.”
The chained man bowed his head. Unmasked, the final humiliation, he spread his teeth in an awful grin. “You have no idea how true that is.”
“What do you mean?”
Arteras twisted his wrist, bound by the manacles which restrained him, to point towards a blood-stained table, covered with instruments of torture. On it laid the silver mask which they had ripped off his face.
“What exactly,” and he laugh-coughed again, “gave you the impression…that the man behind that mask…was Arteras?’
Evvico’s eyes widened, and he spun and walked quickly towards the exit of the room.
“You thought your sad little ploy would take him in?” the body double called out towards the retreating prince. “Even now he marshals his forces!”
“Execute the double,” Evvico said to one of the Evyni torturers who had been standing aside. “Immediately.”
His palms were sweaty.
---
It was the morning before their parting, and it dawned red.
They had sparred every morning for the past several months, their still-hale but aging bodies kept taut as a bowstring by the constant exercise of muscle and mind.
Sianai whirled his two-handed spear to deflect Talephas’ sword-thrust and then lunged forward, a piercing blow skittering off the Redeemer’s great shield with a screech of metal. Talephas scored a hit off Sianai’s breastplate, getting inside his guard and forcing him back.
Sianai then dropped his spear and drew two short practice-blades of his own. He trapped the Redeemer’s oncoming longsword in a cross of blades, and then threw him off balance by whipping them apart.
Sianai pressed forward with a series of savage slashes, each of which the Redeemer took on his shield, shifting his position slightly to meet each stroke. Growing increasingly frustrated, Sianai bullrushed the Redeemer, trying to knock him off his guard, but Talephas was ready. He crouched down and let Sianai’s momentum carry him onto and over his shield, landing him flat on his back behind him.
Sianai stared up at the sky with the Redeemer’s swordpoint at his neck.
Then they both laughed and Talephas pulled him to his feet.
“That's one to me, then,” said the Redeemer, still laughing. “I was starting to get worried after you won the last two bouts.”
Sianai pulled some hair out of his mask where it had gotten caught. “You hide all your tricks until you need them, my scion. My fighting style is no match for yours.”
They clasped arms. “I say we are equals,” said Talephas.
“If you insist.”
They walked slowly back towards their horses, both covered in sweat and still breathing heavily.
“The other princes are champing at the bit for the war council tonight,” said Sianai.
Talephas smiled. “Old Zendan just wants to get home to his wives…excuse me, wife.”
Sianai smiled, but his eyes were businesslike. “And you will reveal your plan.”
“My plan?”
“Years ago, you told me that we need only wait and the Moti would destroy themselves. Now the time has come. After we defeat these Vithanama, the Empire is ours.”
Talephas stopped walking and stared. “No, no it is not. We are truly restoring Sixth-Gaci to his rightful power and authority. And then we will return home.”
Sianai balled his hands into fists, but his voice remained calm. “Redeemer. Fifteen years ago these so-called allies almost destroyed everything. They brought the apocalypse to our home.”
“And now they have repented and promised to never do so again.”
Now Sianai threw his spear on the ground. “And what is that promise WORTH?”
Talephas extended his hand. “Come now, Sianai, speak reasonably.”
Sianai swiped it away. “Oh, I am being reasonable. You defend these Moti, these pagan sun-worshippers who would murder our god, and then how many generations will pass until they have the advantage once more?” He ripped off his helm, tossing it aside. “Do you truly think they will duplicate your famous mercy when the time comes?”
Talephas rounded on Sianai, his patience finally fraying. “Their time WILL come again, no matter what we do. For the Moti, or some other enemy we cannot yet even SEE. And when their time does come, and when we are weak and they are strong, I will have them know the Satar as noble friends, not butchers, so they do not butcher my children’s children!”
“Then we NEVER let their time come. We NEVER grow weak. And we NEVER stop fighting. The universe is at WAR, Redeemer, and even if you are blind to it, there can only be one victor!”
A tense silence fell in the storied, ancient plains of Magha.
“Do you trust me, Sianai?” said Talephas.
The Wind-Prince was silent for a very long time.
Finally, he sighed. “I trust you, Talephas,” he said.
“Then protect the Moti. Protect them. And that is how we will redeem them.”
“What if they cannot be redeemed?”
Talephas made no answer to that, and saddled his horse. “To the council, Sianai. Do not question me again.”
Sianai simply stared. “As you say, my scion.” Talephas turned his back on him, disappointment in his eyes.
Sianai laughed to himself, realizing his hands were shaking. "As you say."
"Is it truly as he says?" said a third voice, fierce and serpentine.
Sianai's eyes widened and looked around for the source of the voice, but Talephas had already begun to canter away.
"You know the truth," said Taexi. "You know what must be done."
Sianai screamed.
"I have seen more evil done under light than in darkness."
Talan the Elder, The Talani Fragments
Part One
Part Two
---
Part Three: The Brink of Cataclypse
"It bleeds my liver to say that Taleldil is not a God. He is a god-in-potentiality. And this why our struggle is urgent."
-Talan the Elder, The Talani Fragments
---
His bloodstained body was chained to two separate posts and spread-eagled, like he was trying to fly.
Evvico viewed the scene with distaste. Torture was a regrettable but necessary episode in getting what he wanted.
“So…this is justice,” the Prince of the Scroll coughed, blood trickling down his chin and neck. “I had expected at least a mock trial.”
“Cede the city of Alma to the Princedom of the Sea, where it rightfully belongs, and you will have a quick end,” said the Accan prince. “Even now, my troops are preparing to besiege Atracta. If you refuse, the city will fall, and your entire line will be extinguished.”
“All of this…for Alma?” Arteras started to laugh. “Did it occur to you to try asking nicely?”
Evvico smiled without pleasure. “This is nice. Only one man has to die for a proper restoration of the balance.”
The chained man bowed his head. Unmasked, the final humiliation, he spread his teeth in an awful grin. “You have no idea how true that is.”
“What do you mean?”
Arteras twisted his wrist, bound by the manacles which restrained him, to point towards a blood-stained table, covered with instruments of torture. On it laid the silver mask which they had ripped off his face.
“What exactly,” and he laugh-coughed again, “gave you the impression…that the man behind that mask…was Arteras?’
Evvico’s eyes widened, and he spun and walked quickly towards the exit of the room.
“You thought your sad little ploy would take him in?” the body double called out towards the retreating prince. “Even now he marshals his forces!”
“Execute the double,” Evvico said to one of the Evyni torturers who had been standing aside. “Immediately.”
His palms were sweaty.
---
It was the morning before their parting, and it dawned red.
They had sparred every morning for the past several months, their still-hale but aging bodies kept taut as a bowstring by the constant exercise of muscle and mind.
Sianai whirled his two-handed spear to deflect Talephas’ sword-thrust and then lunged forward, a piercing blow skittering off the Redeemer’s great shield with a screech of metal. Talephas scored a hit off Sianai’s breastplate, getting inside his guard and forcing him back.
Sianai then dropped his spear and drew two short practice-blades of his own. He trapped the Redeemer’s oncoming longsword in a cross of blades, and then threw him off balance by whipping them apart.
Sianai pressed forward with a series of savage slashes, each of which the Redeemer took on his shield, shifting his position slightly to meet each stroke. Growing increasingly frustrated, Sianai bullrushed the Redeemer, trying to knock him off his guard, but Talephas was ready. He crouched down and let Sianai’s momentum carry him onto and over his shield, landing him flat on his back behind him.
Sianai stared up at the sky with the Redeemer’s swordpoint at his neck.
Then they both laughed and Talephas pulled him to his feet.
“That's one to me, then,” said the Redeemer, still laughing. “I was starting to get worried after you won the last two bouts.”
Sianai pulled some hair out of his mask where it had gotten caught. “You hide all your tricks until you need them, my scion. My fighting style is no match for yours.”
They clasped arms. “I say we are equals,” said Talephas.
“If you insist.”
They walked slowly back towards their horses, both covered in sweat and still breathing heavily.
“The other princes are champing at the bit for the war council tonight,” said Sianai.
Talephas smiled. “Old Zendan just wants to get home to his wives…excuse me, wife.”
Sianai smiled, but his eyes were businesslike. “And you will reveal your plan.”
“My plan?”
“Years ago, you told me that we need only wait and the Moti would destroy themselves. Now the time has come. After we defeat these Vithanama, the Empire is ours.”
Talephas stopped walking and stared. “No, no it is not. We are truly restoring Sixth-Gaci to his rightful power and authority. And then we will return home.”
Sianai balled his hands into fists, but his voice remained calm. “Redeemer. Fifteen years ago these so-called allies almost destroyed everything. They brought the apocalypse to our home.”
“And now they have repented and promised to never do so again.”
Now Sianai threw his spear on the ground. “And what is that promise WORTH?”
Talephas extended his hand. “Come now, Sianai, speak reasonably.”
Sianai swiped it away. “Oh, I am being reasonable. You defend these Moti, these pagan sun-worshippers who would murder our god, and then how many generations will pass until they have the advantage once more?” He ripped off his helm, tossing it aside. “Do you truly think they will duplicate your famous mercy when the time comes?”
Talephas rounded on Sianai, his patience finally fraying. “Their time WILL come again, no matter what we do. For the Moti, or some other enemy we cannot yet even SEE. And when their time does come, and when we are weak and they are strong, I will have them know the Satar as noble friends, not butchers, so they do not butcher my children’s children!”
“Then we NEVER let their time come. We NEVER grow weak. And we NEVER stop fighting. The universe is at WAR, Redeemer, and even if you are blind to it, there can only be one victor!”
A tense silence fell in the storied, ancient plains of Magha.
“Do you trust me, Sianai?” said Talephas.
The Wind-Prince was silent for a very long time.
Finally, he sighed. “I trust you, Talephas,” he said.
“Then protect the Moti. Protect them. And that is how we will redeem them.”
“What if they cannot be redeemed?”
Talephas made no answer to that, and saddled his horse. “To the council, Sianai. Do not question me again.”
Sianai simply stared. “As you say, my scion.” Talephas turned his back on him, disappointment in his eyes.
Sianai laughed to himself, realizing his hands were shaking. "As you say."
"Is it truly as he says?" said a third voice, fierce and serpentine.
Sianai's eyes widened and looked around for the source of the voice, but Talephas had already begun to canter away.
"You know the truth," said Taexi. "You know what must be done."
Sianai screamed.
Your forces have surrounded the city?
Yes, General Atlu. The Sechmna have retreated behind their walls after we routed their last counterattack. The defenses will not hold us forever; the city was not built for a siege.
Good. The Sechmna will not hold out for long. The general stroked his beard. This war is almost too soon over for my tastes. The priest-king and his silly alliance proved irritating but hardly a challenge. Word has come from the capital that we are to spare him.
Spare him, general? Why?
Seems like a damned bad idea to me. String him up and be done with it. Swords have won this war, and the Emperor is the only priest-king we need. But apparently some think the visual of the former priest-king of Sechm being forced to bow to the Emperor in Traha and surrender his title formally would be a worthwhile spectacle. Do not expend too much effort to make sure he survives the siege, however. Our victory is more important.
Of course, General Atlu.
Dismissed. The major turned sharply, lifted the flap and left the tent. A cool wind briefly whipped in, borne off the lake by which their encampment rose. The candles snuffed out, leaving the tent in darkness.
Atlu sat, deep in thought, ignoring the darkness. This is not a war in which to make history.
Yes, General Atlu. The Sechmna have retreated behind their walls after we routed their last counterattack. The defenses will not hold us forever; the city was not built for a siege.
Good. The Sechmna will not hold out for long. The general stroked his beard. This war is almost too soon over for my tastes. The priest-king and his silly alliance proved irritating but hardly a challenge. Word has come from the capital that we are to spare him.
Spare him, general? Why?
Seems like a damned bad idea to me. String him up and be done with it. Swords have won this war, and the Emperor is the only priest-king we need. But apparently some think the visual of the former priest-king of Sechm being forced to bow to the Emperor in Traha and surrender his title formally would be a worthwhile spectacle. Do not expend too much effort to make sure he survives the siege, however. Our victory is more important.
Of course, General Atlu.
Dismissed. The major turned sharply, lifted the flap and left the tent. A cool wind briefly whipped in, borne off the lake by which their encampment rose. The candles snuffed out, leaving the tent in darkness.
Atlu sat, deep in thought, ignoring the darkness. This is not a war in which to make history.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
The Icespear of Tarat
Princeling Nuzaril
325 IL
Princeling Nuzaril
325 IL
“Quickly, everyone!” I called out loudly but firmly, “My Father shall arrive at any moment!” The servants darted to and fro, bearing the feat into the great hall as the Taratca primarchs waited. The northsmen brought all their furry finery to this event, hoping to impress their new King. Primarch Rugushi made a loud joke, and his table burst into laughter. I stood still, watching the stairs for the entrance of my Father.
You must forgive me, for I was still young. I scratched by immaculately cultivated face, already missing the shaggy mane which saw me through my endless adventures. Anticipation works as well as any hushed word, and slowly but surely, silence descended upon the hall. The covered dishes burbled on their little oil fires, but they were ignored. Only one thing mattered now : Father was late : where could he be?
Though our eyes were frozen on the empty portal, my mind wandered. It has been nearly three years since the last I saw Father. It was right before I finally sailed past the Ashen Ruins of Kurcehn and other Settin cities. It was right before the Traitor-Queen Dasca, and then Grand Lord Marshal Garun, and then his mentor Descon died. If wonder if he changed.
I wonder if I changed.
The staircase echoed with the sound of footsteps.
Finally! My Father emerged from the portal, with my little sister Princess Myransyl on his back. He beamed, his white teeth glimmering in the candlelight. Behind Father, Queen Tetmar held the hands of Prince Junor and Princeling Dormica, her shimmering dress of silver and ivory resembling the horfrost that lined the windows, her red hair the fires that burned in the hall’s many hearths. And behind him, even more of their children, many of whom I do not recognize.. In the very back, amongst the other guardsmen, stood Ertanis, my Father’s ever vigilant shadow.
The Primarchs drummed their fingers on their great rough-hewn tables as this procession worked its way to me, and the high table. Many seemed sheepish: their own treasures seemed but rustic peasant wear compared to their King. I silently gestured for more food and more seats: I expected valued guests, yes, but not a family reunion. Then again, a true family reunion will occupy the all of Tarat, as likely as not.
And then, he stood before me here.
Father let Myransyl down. We pressed palms. He smiled, warm against the winter cold. I hugged Myransyl, and bowed to Queen Tetmar, and greeted all my relatives, one by one, and sat them down. Brothers, Sisters, Half Brothers, Half Sisters, Nephews, Cousins, Uncles. As Father sat, the Primarchs begun pounding their tables. “Speech! Speech! Speech!”
Father chuckled, and stood up once more. “These have been long years since the Partheca first landed on these shores. Then, we were two people, separated by ice and steal. Now we are one people, bound by ink and blood. And we as one people, are incredibly hungry. Let the feast begin!”
The Primarchs roared in approval. Here’s a man who takes upon their own sensibilities! The plates were uncovered, revealing grilled, roasted, and steamed wonders. Boil pots sat beside thin slices of frozen meat, to be flash cooked in the roiling broth. On the king’s table, a dozen men carefully revealed a massive horned beast resembling an Elk. “It’s a moose, my King” explained Primarch Gossnym. “Tracked down in the Northlands for your prominence.” My Father reached for his knife, but stopped and muttered when I motioned and blinked. Gossnym stabbed the great beast and lobbed off a juicy slice of flesh. Slicing off a dainty bite, he slowly chewed and swallowed. “Let us be seen today, as one being under one roof! Let us feast!”
“Thunderthief” joked Father in my ear.
“An important local custom, Father,” I replied in mock anger.
We both laughed and dug in.
We talked, but yet we did not. I could see in Father’s eyes he wished to say more than the meaningless banter we adopted. Time and time again, one Primarch or another would come and give his tribute privately, Father’s smile slowly becoming strained.
There was a distinct feeling that he was running out of time.
Finally, as the iced fruit was brought out he pulled me asside by the shoulder. His face was grim, but his blue eyes shined unnaturally bright as he leaned close to me.
“You always were my favorite son.”
I..I was shocked. My face froze, but my mind melted. His mouth kept moving. It was always moving. Yet this time, his words were for me alone.
“You see things the way I do. The limitless horizons of our world, the unique peoples, the great lands. The Farlanders aren’t demons, they are People, like the Parthecan. We are explorers, you and I, always seeking the edge of what is possible, and striding confidently to prove the impossible wrong. People teach too much, and learn too little. But you, you are not others. You are not like me. You, you have greatness within you...“
“Father?“ I carefully interrupted.
“Ah yes” he caught himself. “One day I will die, and another King will rise. And your brothers are hopelessly stupid. Genda is almost a Leunwen himself, babbling nonsense like rights and profit margins with his Leunwen wife. And Ertanis is as dumb as his sword is sharp, and he sharpens his sword everyday.
“Father!” I said, worrying of the implications of what he was saying. My brothers are perfect sons!
“You see, my dear son, I am here more than to receive the acclamation of the Taratca. I am here to name you my Crown Prince.”
I apologize once more. I do not remember anything between these words and the next.
“Son? Nuzaril?” He shook me, fear in his eyes, “What do you think?”
“Father I...” my voice cracked. I lowered my head and ruffled my hair, letting it hang loose over my eyes, “I… I can’t be King.”
“And why is that.”
I shuddered. In a second Father’s voice lost all it’s warmth. I refused to look him in eyes as I continued. “Not only is it illegal, It will not be proper to my Brothers, our Family, the People…”
“You think I care? You think I care about what they think is proper or right? All I care about is the BEST. And clearly, you are the best for the job! I’ve even snuck in a line changing Comden’s inheritance laws just so you are allowed to be my designated heir even if your biatch of a mother is too dead to be named my full wife!”
“Father!”
“I know what your problem is. You spent far too long with the Farlanders. If you love them so much, go fuq* them! You are refusing the commands of your own Father? Very well! I banish you from Partheca.”
I gasped.
“FOREVER.”
I collapsed and begun crying. What has happened to him? He did not drink, yet he seemed drunk. Through my tears I looked into his now bloodshot eyes, as sharp as a dagger piercing my heart.
“Officially you’ll be our permanent ambassador in Nakitsa, after marrying to a suitable princess. I give you leave to travel on whatever expedition that comes their way, but do not expect to ever see me or your homeland again. It’s clear to me now. I am the only one worthy of ruling Parthe. And I must do it as long as I can...”
And leaving me on the cold stone tiles, muttering ideas to himself, Father walked back to the banquet hall, never to see me again.
And that’s the last time I ever saw him.
Two Paths Treaded
The traveler walked down the noontime streets of Reppaba. He wore a weathered brown robe and a broad-brimmed straw hat, overtop of a lighter garment coloured in a reticulated pattern of purple and yellow. He wore a hardy pair of boots, fit for a soldier in the north, contrasting the rest of his humble appearance.
Above his clothes, he bore two satchels. One was swung over his back, filled with food and water. A second hung around his waist, packed to capacity with carefully folded papers.
The traveler took off his hat and shaded his eyes from the bright sun to survey the town. He could see hints of Triluin architecture here and there, in a foundation, or in a particularly aged structure. However, these were mere specks, the bones of the past. The newer buildings were blocky and solid, resting steadily on the earth rather than soaring skywards. The work of the Sirans, perhaps? He did not know, he had never been to the lands of the Airani.
The streets told the history of the city as surely as the buildings. The central boulevard, and a scant few perpendicular avenues, maintained the rectangular grid of a planned city. But the smaller streets were a coiling maze, twisting between a crowded hodgepodge of buildings. A pair of semicircular roads revealed where the old walls had once stood. It had been an outpost, a fortress once. Remnants of the ramparts were visible as the walls of a few buildings. The rest had been carried off, perhaps to rebuild the outer fortifications of the city after its conquest by the Saffirai.
He paused, and let the world flow through him for a moment. The scents, the sounds, the sights. The faint taste of smoke in his mouth, the clatter of hand-carts, and the looming, half-built structure ahead of him. All of this was experience now held within his mind, preserved in memory, ever-growing his awareness of the world. Such was the hunt that drove the traveler's journey, the Doru o Ierai.
He closed his eyes, and opened them once more, before resuming his pilgrimage. The Temple of the Aitah was ahead, centrally located. It looked almost out of place, far more Helsian in appearance than anything else in the city, as if some great being had dropped it down into the city from above. That observation was not so far from the truth, perhaps. This land had once been Maninist, before the reign of Khatai, and Her coming. The Cult of the Goddess had been an imposition, an act of empire-building as much as piety. But, looking more closely, the traveler began to question his first impression. While the Temple may have been imparted by force, the city had adapted. It showed the earliest signs of beginning to grow around it. While the structure had been erected intrusively into the center of a broad intersection of central streets, a cluster of younger buildings had come to occupy the space that had been cleared around the temple, forming a reverential circle surrounding the holy place. The break between the two kinds was, almost imperceptibly, mending.
Bowing, the traveler passed through a gauzy red shroud, and entered into the dimly-lit structure. The patterns on the floor were familiar to him at once, the geometric art of Faerouhaiaou. The walls, however, bore depictions of eastern origin, showing the Red Lady, banner and sword in hand, at the head of a great host, and touching hands with the Aitah of the West, at the meeting of the Goddesses. The traveler recognized a depiction of Aelona, with a young woman at her side. Kintyra perhaps? The traveler nearly raised an eyebrow. That certainly wouldn't fly in Seis.
Around the building, there was much muted activity. Labourers stood high in scaffolding attached to the upper pillars. Far below, beds were gathered, and the ill were succoured by the attendants of the temple.
Passing through the building, the traveler reached the point beneath the chamber's domed center, and there he saw Her. A figure clad in a dress of red. Loose sleeves, in the eastern style, were tied tight with incarnadine bands around her wrists. A long, deep crimson dress wrapped tightly around her body, decorated with simple golden patterns and an outer trim of fur. She fed a soft mash of fruits and crushed grains to an elderly woman, before rising, touching the woman on the head before moving on. Her eyes turned and met the gaze of the
“Welcome, traveler. You have come far.”
She stepped toward him. Her hair was a rippling dark shade of brown, framing and accentuating her long, thin-featured face. Her eyes gleamed like amber in the faint illumination of the temple. Though she was no taller than any of the other attendants of the temple, she bore herself in a manner that could be described as regal, as if she stood more prominently than all the rest.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“I am called Giuda.”
“Giuda.” Her amber eyes rested upon him, “That is an odd name for a Helsian.”
“It is what they call me.”
The woman stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the traveler's face. She observed the flatness of his forehead, the fullness of his cheeks and the broad angle of his jaw. He bore little resemblance to the sharp angularity of the Faronun.
“Ah. So a Helsian you are not. They call you Giuda, but with what name did your mother bless you?”
“Giuthup. I was born Hiuthu, my parents partook of the waters of the Had. Amongst the Faronun, I am Giuda, in Seshweay I am Gu'se. One name is as fitting as the other.”
The lady in red smiled, intrigue infusing her gaze.
“You are well traveled then. Come, let us rest you and feed you, and you may tell me of your journey.”
The traveler stepped forward, and the lady began to turn, before he spoke and halted her.
“Forgive me, but I wish to know- what is your name?”
The woman regarded him with an inscrutable look in her eyes, but her faint smile did not fade.
“My parents named me Eri.”
“I had presumed you to be the Aitah.”
She paused for a moment, before responding.
“Some call me that.”
The traveler walked down the noontime streets of Reppaba. He wore a weathered brown robe and a broad-brimmed straw hat, overtop of a lighter garment coloured in a reticulated pattern of purple and yellow. He wore a hardy pair of boots, fit for a soldier in the north, contrasting the rest of his humble appearance.
Above his clothes, he bore two satchels. One was swung over his back, filled with food and water. A second hung around his waist, packed to capacity with carefully folded papers.
The traveler took off his hat and shaded his eyes from the bright sun to survey the town. He could see hints of Triluin architecture here and there, in a foundation, or in a particularly aged structure. However, these were mere specks, the bones of the past. The newer buildings were blocky and solid, resting steadily on the earth rather than soaring skywards. The work of the Sirans, perhaps? He did not know, he had never been to the lands of the Airani.
The streets told the history of the city as surely as the buildings. The central boulevard, and a scant few perpendicular avenues, maintained the rectangular grid of a planned city. But the smaller streets were a coiling maze, twisting between a crowded hodgepodge of buildings. A pair of semicircular roads revealed where the old walls had once stood. It had been an outpost, a fortress once. Remnants of the ramparts were visible as the walls of a few buildings. The rest had been carried off, perhaps to rebuild the outer fortifications of the city after its conquest by the Saffirai.
He paused, and let the world flow through him for a moment. The scents, the sounds, the sights. The faint taste of smoke in his mouth, the clatter of hand-carts, and the looming, half-built structure ahead of him. All of this was experience now held within his mind, preserved in memory, ever-growing his awareness of the world. Such was the hunt that drove the traveler's journey, the Doru o Ierai.
He closed his eyes, and opened them once more, before resuming his pilgrimage. The Temple of the Aitah was ahead, centrally located. It looked almost out of place, far more Helsian in appearance than anything else in the city, as if some great being had dropped it down into the city from above. That observation was not so far from the truth, perhaps. This land had once been Maninist, before the reign of Khatai, and Her coming. The Cult of the Goddess had been an imposition, an act of empire-building as much as piety. But, looking more closely, the traveler began to question his first impression. While the Temple may have been imparted by force, the city had adapted. It showed the earliest signs of beginning to grow around it. While the structure had been erected intrusively into the center of a broad intersection of central streets, a cluster of younger buildings had come to occupy the space that had been cleared around the temple, forming a reverential circle surrounding the holy place. The break between the two kinds was, almost imperceptibly, mending.
Bowing, the traveler passed through a gauzy red shroud, and entered into the dimly-lit structure. The patterns on the floor were familiar to him at once, the geometric art of Faerouhaiaou. The walls, however, bore depictions of eastern origin, showing the Red Lady, banner and sword in hand, at the head of a great host, and touching hands with the Aitah of the West, at the meeting of the Goddesses. The traveler recognized a depiction of Aelona, with a young woman at her side. Kintyra perhaps? The traveler nearly raised an eyebrow. That certainly wouldn't fly in Seis.
Around the building, there was much muted activity. Labourers stood high in scaffolding attached to the upper pillars. Far below, beds were gathered, and the ill were succoured by the attendants of the temple.
Passing through the building, the traveler reached the point beneath the chamber's domed center, and there he saw Her. A figure clad in a dress of red. Loose sleeves, in the eastern style, were tied tight with incarnadine bands around her wrists. A long, deep crimson dress wrapped tightly around her body, decorated with simple golden patterns and an outer trim of fur. She fed a soft mash of fruits and crushed grains to an elderly woman, before rising, touching the woman on the head before moving on. Her eyes turned and met the gaze of the
“Welcome, traveler. You have come far.”
She stepped toward him. Her hair was a rippling dark shade of brown, framing and accentuating her long, thin-featured face. Her eyes gleamed like amber in the faint illumination of the temple. Though she was no taller than any of the other attendants of the temple, she bore herself in a manner that could be described as regal, as if she stood more prominently than all the rest.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“I am called Giuda.”
“Giuda.” Her amber eyes rested upon him, “That is an odd name for a Helsian.”
“It is what they call me.”
The woman stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the traveler's face. She observed the flatness of his forehead, the fullness of his cheeks and the broad angle of his jaw. He bore little resemblance to the sharp angularity of the Faronun.
“Ah. So a Helsian you are not. They call you Giuda, but with what name did your mother bless you?”
“Giuthup. I was born Hiuthu, my parents partook of the waters of the Had. Amongst the Faronun, I am Giuda, in Seshweay I am Gu'se. One name is as fitting as the other.”
The lady in red smiled, intrigue infusing her gaze.
“You are well traveled then. Come, let us rest you and feed you, and you may tell me of your journey.”
The traveler stepped forward, and the lady began to turn, before he spoke and halted her.
“Forgive me, but I wish to know- what is your name?”
The woman regarded him with an inscrutable look in her eyes, but her faint smile did not fade.
“My parents named me Eri.”
“I had presumed you to be the Aitah.”
She paused for a moment, before responding.
“Some call me that.”
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
OOC: Nice story, Iggy. Yours was also okay, terrance. 
Hightower, your writing style shows a lot of promise. Keep at it.
Hightower, your writing style shows a lot of promise. Keep at it.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Erection: Of Parthecan Architecture
Nineth Edition
by Jarceunci Dornacti
Communities
Now that weve discussed the construction of individual homes, we may discuss the consolidation of homes to form households, neighborhoods, towns, and cities.
The most basic unit is the Household. Homes are constructed in a rough circle around a courtyard, or the Jarca. The Jarca contains into two important regions. The Janthe, or the physical representation of the Jarthe House of the Heart, and The Panthe, or the physical representation of the Parthe Original Home.
The Janthe is where funeral, marriage, and other important ceremonies are held. The Janthe is holy ground at the heart of the Household. For rural or small households, the Janthe is often marked with a tree or a monolith. For larger households, small structures can be built to hold ceremonies. For the largest and wealthiest structures, amenities for the shamans are also constructed for the constant ceremonies and cerebrations held.
The Panthe holds the amenities offered to the Parca, the wandering people who were once Kings. This ground is considered property of the King and this wholy separated and segregated from the Jarthe of the household. For the poor, its merely a cleared and marked ground for wandering Parca to rest their horses and stake their wagons. For the wealthy, small houses or even miniature households consisting of stables, chapels, and kitchens are provided for the Parca.
An interesting development is the Pantheun built along Parthes ports to host the honorary Parcacen of Leunca and Citaluka. Large structures built especially to host these Parca, they hold rooms for resting, offices for official business, and small warehouses for samples.
Between the Panthe, Janthe, and the homes is the rest of the Jarca. Historically an area kept clear and grassy (except for times of conflict), in recent times the Jarca has become an area of small shacks and shops, a method adopted to increase surface area for commerse. Whatever the case, all structures in the Jarca are stand alone, and shorter than the household walls.
Whatever the Homes were built of, all homes back against the Household Wall, a thick and surprisingly tall piece of masonry providing a united front to outsiders. Even in cities, the Household Walls are rarely pierced by additional gates: the most common solution was a ring of shops on the outside, connected by doors halfway up the wall, or ropes and ladders reaching over it.
It is tradition to tear down old homes and rebuild them during the Off-season if no new structures are to be built or the wall expanded.
If new homes are built, the ground reclaimed from the Jarca is spiritually divested as a separate but inclusive part of the whole, and then invested with the Jarthe of the new home-owners. When the Wall is expanded, the young men are sent en-mass in the direction the wall is torn down for three days and nights, then return. Then, as the wall is completed up, the young women are sent in the opposite direction for a single night before returning to the completed wall.
In Parthecan Terminology, all municipalities are considered in terms of Households.
A Household which contains large segments of bare wall is considered a Homestead.
A Household which is completely ringed by homes, or has just expanded its wall, is named a Hamlet.
Multiple Households that agree to form a united wall around themselves and to preserve a central courtyard is named a Town. The component households are considered blocks.
When multiple towns are in an area agree to form a united wall around themselves and to preserve common lanes of traffic is named a City. The component towns are considered neighborhoods.
The leadership of these communities have changed greatly since times past. Once, all leaders claimed the name of King. Once, there was no Hasnuen where leaders shared power. However, there are traditional methods of community leadership, and although many communities are experimenting with new methods, these old ways remain.
In a single home, the eldest leads. Those who disagree with his or her rule may move to neighboring homes or marry into a neighboring household.
In a household, the Matriarch or Patriarch leads. This leader is chosen by competition at the last leaders death. Tradition holds it that only two may enter the competition from each home: the eldest, if he or she so chooses, and a single youth.
In a town, the Prefect leads. This leader is chosen either by competition at the last Prefects death, or by the Prefect before his or her death and acclaimed by the Matriarchs and Patriarchs of the blocks.
In a city, the Hasen (Governor) or the King leads. This leader is chosen his leader is chosen either by competition at the last Hasens death, or by the Hasen before his or her death and acclaimed by the Prefects of the neighborhoods, or by the Hasnuencen of the Hasens equal subordinates. Often, however, the King is the Hasen, or directly chooses a Hasen. In other cases, the King selects a Hasem, which is an acting Hasen whilst the King is occupied.
As an aside, in regional cases the largest community often exerts strong influence through ink and blood. This often leads to Prefects and Hasens leading large regions. You may read more in the volumes of Ink and Blood.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
So, I'm pretty sick.
Read: really sick.
It's kind of terrible, because I think I'm at least 3/4 done with the update if not further, but I can barely focus on words on the page, so I'll probably delay it until tomorrow -- hopefully not any later.
Read: really sick.
It's kind of terrible, because I think I'm at least 3/4 done with the update if not further, but I can barely focus on words on the page, so I'll probably delay it until tomorrow -- hopefully not any later.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Once Again, Just a Story
There was a Maid of a large family. She thought herself cleverer and smarter than everyone else. She was younger and more beautiful than her elders. She was stronger and wiser than her younger siblings. She was swift and sure, and skilled with her fingers. Surely, she is the true leader of her family! Yet her Parents could not see the Maid’s greatness, and made her do her duties to her household.
And so the Maid became proud, and so she began to ignore her parents. She felt that she alone should choose her husband, and rejected marriage after marriage. The Maid grew older and even more beautiful, but she yet grew alone.
One day, the Maid saw a Man while she was returning from a neighboring homestead, and she fell in love. The Maid felt that she knew the Man intimately with one look of his eyes, which were deep and dark. She loved his perfect hair, his muscular, tall body, and his dark skin. She knew her family will not approve, for Man had no family either. So she ran to Man and married him in secret.
But Man was no man. Man was a Demon, who knew not right or wrong. And Man took the Maid then and there in the forest, and used her. And Man took her home away from her family, and used her again and again, and made her do all his duties, and neglected her.
Yet Maid was still in love, for she was under Man’s spell. She saw the Man using her as acts of love, not brutality. She saw Man’s ignored duties not as laziness, but of importance. And she saw Man’s neglect of her well being not of disrespect for her body, but as respect for her independence. And so the Maid was no longer a Maid, and so the Maid became a Mother of a Girl.
Man knew not how to raise Girl. For Demons can be formed by mis-raised children. Yet Mother was no longer the Maid. Mother knew that Girl should be raised not by Man, but by her own hands. So Mother hid Girl from Man, and raised her as Parthecan.
One day, Man discovered Girl in Mother’s secret home, and he sought to use her. Girl saw Man and called “Father!”. Mother heard and walked in as well to see an amazing sight.
First she saw Man with Girl. But Man grew to a great height. His skin grew as black as coal. He seemed outwardly perfect, but inwardly despicable. Man has become a Demon in her eyes. She now saw Demon preparing to take Girl, but then the Demon begun to change. Perfection became flawed, black skin became lit, great height became stocky. And then Demon was gone, the Demon who was to take and use Girl. And Man was gone, her beloved, important, respected husband. There stood Father, hugging Girl.
Mother can see Father’s flaws, but she can also see Father’s strengths. Father is no longer Man, or Demon. He can now see right and wrong, and the duties he must serve. And Girl? Girl soon became a Maid, with many siblings of her own. And she thought herself cleverer and smarter and everyone else.
There was a Maid of a large family. She thought herself cleverer and smarter than everyone else. She was younger and more beautiful than her elders. She was stronger and wiser than her younger siblings. She was swift and sure, and skilled with her fingers. Surely, she is the true leader of her family! Yet her Parents could not see the Maid’s greatness, and made her do her duties to her household.
And so the Maid became proud, and so she began to ignore her parents. She felt that she alone should choose her husband, and rejected marriage after marriage. The Maid grew older and even more beautiful, but she yet grew alone.
One day, the Maid saw a Man while she was returning from a neighboring homestead, and she fell in love. The Maid felt that she knew the Man intimately with one look of his eyes, which were deep and dark. She loved his perfect hair, his muscular, tall body, and his dark skin. She knew her family will not approve, for Man had no family either. So she ran to Man and married him in secret.
But Man was no man. Man was a Demon, who knew not right or wrong. And Man took the Maid then and there in the forest, and used her. And Man took her home away from her family, and used her again and again, and made her do all his duties, and neglected her.
Yet Maid was still in love, for she was under Man’s spell. She saw the Man using her as acts of love, not brutality. She saw Man’s ignored duties not as laziness, but of importance. And she saw Man’s neglect of her well being not of disrespect for her body, but as respect for her independence. And so the Maid was no longer a Maid, and so the Maid became a Mother of a Girl.
Man knew not how to raise Girl. For Demons can be formed by mis-raised children. Yet Mother was no longer the Maid. Mother knew that Girl should be raised not by Man, but by her own hands. So Mother hid Girl from Man, and raised her as Parthecan.
One day, Man discovered Girl in Mother’s secret home, and he sought to use her. Girl saw Man and called “Father!”. Mother heard and walked in as well to see an amazing sight.
First she saw Man with Girl. But Man grew to a great height. His skin grew as black as coal. He seemed outwardly perfect, but inwardly despicable. Man has become a Demon in her eyes. She now saw Demon preparing to take Girl, but then the Demon begun to change. Perfection became flawed, black skin became lit, great height became stocky. And then Demon was gone, the Demon who was to take and use Girl. And Man was gone, her beloved, important, respected husband. There stood Father, hugging Girl.
Mother can see Father’s flaws, but she can also see Father’s strengths. Father is no longer Man, or Demon. He can now see right and wrong, and the duties he must serve. And Girl? Girl soon became a Maid, with many siblings of her own. And she thought herself cleverer and smarter and everyone else.
The map has been updated. Relative colour indicates relatedness. The main families shown in this group are:
Nahari Languages: Opulensi, Nahari, Savirai, Siran, Ethir, Pekorovan (with heavy Triluin influences)
Had Languages: Hiuthu, Palmyran, Hamakuan, Faronun, Faerouhaiaouan, Bisrian (With heavy Moti influences)
Uggor Languages: Uggor (and its dialects, including Liealbi, Moti, Kratoan, Duroc, Liealbi, Thearakean), Jiphan, Zyeshu
Seshite Languages: Seshweay, Nerussian
Steppe Languages: Satar
This list, of course, is very far from complete, and is subject to NK's edits.
Jehoshua
Catholic
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2009
- Messages
- 7,284
Its pretty good Iggy and the map is excellent (by Jove the Farubaida is complex), however there are a couple of problems I can see.
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The first one is that the Liealbi languages from what I have gathered (referring to the linguistic base set down by the person who played Thearak way back in the day, and later statements on the matter by NK) are not Uggor dialects but part of a separate language family (albeit one which historically has lost a lot of territory to Moti). This language family would presumably going over the history of the game spread in a rough dialect continuum going from the Southern parts of the Empire (Kiyaj river basin up to the foothills of the Kotthorns) into Kilar and Jipha (albeit the language in Jipha, is likely to have a lexicon strongly influenced by Hamakuan, and eastern Kilar probably has its own Zyesh influenced dialect along with many actual speakers of Zyesh), and the liturgical language of the Church (which was founded in the Empire of Thearak).
The second is that Zyesh is very unlikely to be an Uggor language, considering that the Zyesh lands are nowhere near the core Uggor grassland region where you had the Kratoan city states and the Moti. Zyesh is more likely to be closely related to Hamakuan and the other Had languages or even towards the Liealb langauges, that it has geographical proximity towards than to Moti. Alternatively one could consider it a language isolate (a la basque) in the absence of information on that language.
-
The first one is that the Liealbi languages from what I have gathered (referring to the linguistic base set down by the person who played Thearak way back in the day, and later statements on the matter by NK) are not Uggor dialects but part of a separate language family (albeit one which historically has lost a lot of territory to Moti). This language family would presumably going over the history of the game spread in a rough dialect continuum going from the Southern parts of the Empire (Kiyaj river basin up to the foothills of the Kotthorns) into Kilar and Jipha (albeit the language in Jipha, is likely to have a lexicon strongly influenced by Hamakuan, and eastern Kilar probably has its own Zyesh influenced dialect along with many actual speakers of Zyesh), and the liturgical language of the Church (which was founded in the Empire of Thearak).
The second is that Zyesh is very unlikely to be an Uggor language, considering that the Zyesh lands are nowhere near the core Uggor grassland region where you had the Kratoan city states and the Moti. Zyesh is more likely to be closely related to Hamakuan and the other Had languages or even towards the Liealb langauges, that it has geographical proximity towards than to Moti. Alternatively one could consider it a language isolate (a la basque) in the absence of information on that language.
Arrow Gamer
America's Dictator
Excerpts From The New Republic: An Early History
After the disastrous international debut of the New Republic, Leun was forced to accept peace with the Daharai on poor, but not hopeless, terms. They managed to retain most of their land, and were left with most of their incomes, the bulk of which was from trade. While forfeiting the rights to the Indigo Gate was a blow to the monopoly they once held on commerce in the Leunan Sea, they still seemed poised to continue as a trading power in the east. However, a renewed effort to clear the seas surrounding their lands of pirates and expand their trade fleet while simultaneously demobilizing much of the realm's military, helped in part to reinvigorate the economy.
Still, Leun had chosen to bow to the Daharai, and the effects could not be shrugged off. Approval of the New Republic was lower than that of the Old had been directly before the rebellion. After disbanding much of the army, Leunan leaders feared rebellion from both within and without the ranks, and many senators kept private guards around them at all times, for fear of assassination.
In spite of many unpopular moves made before and during the war, the New Senate made a concerted effort rehabilitate their shattered image. First in the series of edicts was the aforementioned order to expand the navy. During most times of war, pirates were a chronic problem, and the Leunan Sea War was no exception. Not only did piracy give the Parthecans an excuse to occupy Leunan land, an affront that was all but unacceptable even with the loan of ships, they were also strangling the precious trade upon which Leun was surviving. All parties in the senate agreed: something had to be done.
And so it was that the pirate scourges began. Ships swept across the seas, putting many to the sword and scaring others into retirement. Led by prominent consul Joran Sedon (See Also: Page 57), the scourges were some of the largest seen in the world, let alone the eastern seas. They continued over several years, but the greatest intensity lay in the latter part of the operation, when even a galley could travel from Parthe to the lands of the Daharai without sight of a privateer.
Another attempt to raise approval can be found in the repayment of the national debt. Nearly half of all the gold owed to the national bank of Leun, as well moneylenders in Parthe and Tars, was repaid. While not nearly as popular as the pirate scourges, and heavily opposed in the senate, the weakening of the burden on the economy had positive effects seen throughout the coming years.
The final event of note immediately following the war was the sudden and ruthless restructuring of the senate. The reactionary faction led by Marc Reum, once-powerful consul, rapidly fell out of power as both consuls made an effort to veto any proposed bill he or his followers attempted to pass. Moreover, the populist party was swept into power by senators hoping to woo the angry mob and avoid yet another civil war. Robb Harren, a young customs officer from the rocky islands to the east, managed to successfully ride the wave of popular support into consulship after the senate elected him under duress from a crowd gathered outside the senate building.
The time after the war was one of change, as the senate turned to a radical new party and their views turned from those of war to those of peace. After a revolution that nearly tore the country apart and a disastrous loss to a neighbor, Leun was at its weakest point. Leaders were at a loss and the people were once again growing restless. The situation seemed dire at best. All that could be said was that the coming years looked bleak. Only time would afford to them the truth of their predictions.
After the disastrous international debut of the New Republic, Leun was forced to accept peace with the Daharai on poor, but not hopeless, terms. They managed to retain most of their land, and were left with most of their incomes, the bulk of which was from trade. While forfeiting the rights to the Indigo Gate was a blow to the monopoly they once held on commerce in the Leunan Sea, they still seemed poised to continue as a trading power in the east. However, a renewed effort to clear the seas surrounding their lands of pirates and expand their trade fleet while simultaneously demobilizing much of the realm's military, helped in part to reinvigorate the economy.
Still, Leun had chosen to bow to the Daharai, and the effects could not be shrugged off. Approval of the New Republic was lower than that of the Old had been directly before the rebellion. After disbanding much of the army, Leunan leaders feared rebellion from both within and without the ranks, and many senators kept private guards around them at all times, for fear of assassination.
In spite of many unpopular moves made before and during the war, the New Senate made a concerted effort rehabilitate their shattered image. First in the series of edicts was the aforementioned order to expand the navy. During most times of war, pirates were a chronic problem, and the Leunan Sea War was no exception. Not only did piracy give the Parthecans an excuse to occupy Leunan land, an affront that was all but unacceptable even with the loan of ships, they were also strangling the precious trade upon which Leun was surviving. All parties in the senate agreed: something had to be done.
And so it was that the pirate scourges began. Ships swept across the seas, putting many to the sword and scaring others into retirement. Led by prominent consul Joran Sedon (See Also: Page 57), the scourges were some of the largest seen in the world, let alone the eastern seas. They continued over several years, but the greatest intensity lay in the latter part of the operation, when even a galley could travel from Parthe to the lands of the Daharai without sight of a privateer.
Another attempt to raise approval can be found in the repayment of the national debt. Nearly half of all the gold owed to the national bank of Leun, as well moneylenders in Parthe and Tars, was repaid. While not nearly as popular as the pirate scourges, and heavily opposed in the senate, the weakening of the burden on the economy had positive effects seen throughout the coming years.
The final event of note immediately following the war was the sudden and ruthless restructuring of the senate. The reactionary faction led by Marc Reum, once-powerful consul, rapidly fell out of power as both consuls made an effort to veto any proposed bill he or his followers attempted to pass. Moreover, the populist party was swept into power by senators hoping to woo the angry mob and avoid yet another civil war. Robb Harren, a young customs officer from the rocky islands to the east, managed to successfully ride the wave of popular support into consulship after the senate elected him under duress from a crowd gathered outside the senate building.
The time after the war was one of change, as the senate turned to a radical new party and their views turned from those of war to those of peace. After a revolution that nearly tore the country apart and a disastrous loss to a neighbor, Leun was at its weakest point. Leaders were at a loss and the people were once again growing restless. The situation seemed dire at best. All that could be said was that the coming years looked bleak. Only time would afford to them the truth of their predictions.
Feel better NK.Thlayli: I've been at this for probably longer than you'd guess, and I know my creative writing isn't exactly my strong suit. But thanks
Iggy: Your map is amazing. Makes me want to do one for the west. But shouldn't "Siran" be "Nahsjad"? I thought the Nahsjad were really the culture, Sira was just a tribe of that culture.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Acayan Sea, South of Tyrsias
SeaLord Lyrpon Orthys
IL 338
SeaLord Lyrpon Orthys
IL 338
I closed my eyes, letting the spray of surf and salt slide over my skin. Ignoring the stinging, I opened them again, laughing. There is nothing like the open sea, to have the wide world around you, the land at or beyond the horizons, the sun unshadowed, the sea unbounded, the winds unblocked by naught but your ship and sail.
The “Kisma” too, was a thing of beauty. One of the swiftest in the Parthecan navy, full sails and full crews pulling it’s relatively light bulk rapidly through the water in battle. Even now, merely coasting along clouds and currents, it pulls leagues in moments.
To think that at least twenty such ships are out on this day in the Acayan Sea, on the hunt for the most elusive, demonic pray brings joy to my heart. My Father, none other than the Sea Marshal Tiron, is relentless in securing the Acayan Sea for the Acayan Compact. For almost a year I’ve sailed with him up and down the Iolhan coast, dragging one pirate after another hiding amongst our naval-less neighbor into the open, where their demonic infection can be cut and cauterized.
This was my first mission alone.
“Sail Spotted!” cried Dahnly, pointing to the horizon. The glare stung my eyes, but was no match for an ingenious Farlander “Isolator” my father gave me. It’s a tube which, as you twisted it, narrowed the opening towards your target, removing the glare and helping you pinpoint it. Very useful. Sure, you could do it with your hands, but I bet your hands aren’t inlaid with gold and pearls! Of course, it sometimes feel that it’s missing something. But that’s stupid. If you put something in it, it’s not see through anymore, ain't it?
Anyway, as I started at the elusive sails I saw mast after mast coming into view. “Multiple craft incoming! Ready the crew and sound the drums!” The great drum roared, the timbers of Kisma shuddering with anticipation. I ignored the vibrations, trying to see the insignia upon those countless sails.
The sun was momentarily blocked by a cloud, giving me a clear look at the incoming convoy. And what I saw froze my blood.
“It’s an entire fleet of Leuncen!” I muttered angrily, “Flying battle standards, too!”
“What is a fleet of Leuncen doing in Parthecan waters?” asked Humlec.
“I don’t know, but they’re headed directly towards us.” I replied, “It looks like we’re about to find out.” Then, I had a thought. “Launch the boat towards Parthe with the news. Just in case...” I let the comment float.
Humlec understood. “I shall, my lord.” and ran off to give the necessary commands.
I tightened my grip on the rails. Who knew a routine pirate-slaying mission could see the start of another war?
Damnit, don’t jinx it, you demon!
OOC: Split into two parts for effect. WARNING TWO POSTS LEFT. Please watch and reserve before posting! I'll post part 2 after the update. Now it's nap time. WE DUN GUD. EDIT: Yes, the fun stuff has to do with how my orders would affect yours. Lol. Happy fun time.
EDITEDIT: One post left!
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Iggy, you were correct in not having any Seshweay speakers on the Exile coast in your original map.
Vithana is another language related to Satar which you can include in the steppe languages family.
Vithana is another language related to Satar which you can include in the steppe languages family.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Someone overestimates his ability to purge everything and everyone from everywhere.
Siran would be the common name at present.
Siran would be the common name at present.
