alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Wha what???? 
Gahh, this ruins all my story plans 
Gahh, this ruins all my story plans 
LINESII- Into the Darkness- Part III
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
JosefStalinator
Я буду снова здесь
Come on guys, send them tonight. Unless you want to wait another month for an update.
jeps
Arcadefire
Orders for this, ABNES, and BirdNES coming tomorrow. All to be separated into Long and Short term (Long in case orders magically cant appear due to many circumstances)
jeps
Arcadefire
From Guarela
To Gerougia
Greetings, neighbours to the north. Would you like to sign trade and an alliance? With it we can both prosper. If we can put our differences aside and work together we can be powerful and rich. If we can't, war shall come and be deadly to us both.
We also would like to work out borders, so clashes over expansion do not arise.
To Gerougia
Greetings, neighbours to the north. Would you like to sign trade and an alliance? With it we can both prosper. If we can put our differences aside and work together we can be powerful and rich. If we can't, war shall come and be deadly to us both.
We also would like to work out borders, so clashes over expansion do not arise.
The reign of Yaran the Foolish and Indecisive - not a title he approved of, and appended only beyond range of his hearing - heir to Jara the Uniter, was at first a puzzle to historians. From an early age, Yaran showed great ambition and cunning. He quickly wormed his way into power thanks to his father's crumbling mind, and by the time he was twenty ran much of the empire.
However, as Jara's grip on reality continued to slide, Yaran seemed to enter a madness of his own. From his early days of snap decisions and confident policies, he began to rely more and more upon the circle of Imperial advisors. For the longest time this confounded researchers; they could find no records hinting to any other symptoms that would seem to indicate diminishing mental abilities. It was not until archaeologists on expedition from the University of the Citadel in New Eldrania made a groundbreaking find that the truth was revealed.
What they found was Emperor Yaran the Foolish and Indecisive's personal diary, and what was within were the most ambitious, far-reaching and hopelessly impossible plans any man had ever devised for the course of a nation, laying to rest the notion of a mind gone soft. This, however, simply raised further questions: If he still plotted and planned with greater acuity than ever, why did he not act on these plans? Why move only at the bidding of the Imperial viziers? It was a local research team, poring over tomes from the dig at Old Jara, that made the final discovery. Emperor Yaran the Foolish and Indecisive practiced the ancient Kelosian philosophy of Alse - or at least a bastardized version thereof.
It's still unclear where he gathered his information from. An ambassador from the neighboring state, perhaps, or a liason with a merchant's daughter. While it is known that, during the time of his reign, a significant minority of Syracians actively followed the Alse philosophy, none of them - save Yaran and his twisted offshoot of the pseudo-religion - were ever in or even near the Imperial Palace. The weight of scholarly opinion falls on an external influence.
Regardless of the source, Yaran became obsessed with leading Syracia down the correct "path", yet was absolutely convinced that any decision he made must have the support of his viziers or else it was the wrong one to reach that path. The canny advisors quickly caught on to this, and used this advantage to have policies implemented that they desired. A chain of seemingly arbitrary and uncaring decrees now falls into logical place with this crucial piece of evidence revealed.
However, as Jara's grip on reality continued to slide, Yaran seemed to enter a madness of his own. From his early days of snap decisions and confident policies, he began to rely more and more upon the circle of Imperial advisors. For the longest time this confounded researchers; they could find no records hinting to any other symptoms that would seem to indicate diminishing mental abilities. It was not until archaeologists on expedition from the University of the Citadel in New Eldrania made a groundbreaking find that the truth was revealed.
What they found was Emperor Yaran the Foolish and Indecisive's personal diary, and what was within were the most ambitious, far-reaching and hopelessly impossible plans any man had ever devised for the course of a nation, laying to rest the notion of a mind gone soft. This, however, simply raised further questions: If he still plotted and planned with greater acuity than ever, why did he not act on these plans? Why move only at the bidding of the Imperial viziers? It was a local research team, poring over tomes from the dig at Old Jara, that made the final discovery. Emperor Yaran the Foolish and Indecisive practiced the ancient Kelosian philosophy of Alse - or at least a bastardized version thereof.
It's still unclear where he gathered his information from. An ambassador from the neighboring state, perhaps, or a liason with a merchant's daughter. While it is known that, during the time of his reign, a significant minority of Syracians actively followed the Alse philosophy, none of them - save Yaran and his twisted offshoot of the pseudo-religion - were ever in or even near the Imperial Palace. The weight of scholarly opinion falls on an external influence.
Regardless of the source, Yaran became obsessed with leading Syracia down the correct "path", yet was absolutely convinced that any decision he made must have the support of his viziers or else it was the wrong one to reach that path. The canny advisors quickly caught on to this, and used this advantage to have policies implemented that they desired. A chain of seemingly arbitrary and uncaring decrees now falls into logical place with this crucial piece of evidence revealed.
"The idiot!"
The Arteshbod, supreme commander of the Syracian armies, bellowed in impotent fury, stalking about the private meeting-room and venting his wrath on any crockery within reach.
"Do you know what he did? What that scum-sucking excuse for a ruler did?!" The crash of broken pottery punctuated the last few words of the Arteshbod's sentence. The Sepahbod, commander of Syracia's naval forces - what there was left of them after the ferocious battles with the pirates - listened calmly as his compatriot repeated, again, what he had already screamed aloud at least three times.
"Our troop deployments! Our strengths! Our strategies in the east - I'm surprised he didn't give them the passwords the night patrols use! He just up and gives it all to the hogspawned ambassador from Kelios - what was he thinking?!" A large and heavily-booted foot slammed down on an ornate brass drinking vessel that had been knocked to the floor, crushing it flat. "Of all the stupid, brainless, idiot things to do - you know the ambassador got out of the empire as fast as he possibly could that same night? And we haven't had word from them since - they're planning something, and it's all his fault!"
A softer, feminine voice cut in from the now-open doorway the moment the Arteshbod stopped to draw breath. "If I didn't know better, my dear Arteshbod, I'd think you were vexed with our esteemed ruler."
The overgeneral of the Syracian armies spun on his heel, eyes shooting daggers at the robed woman standing at the door. "Get lost!" He bellowed, thinking her one of the palace's ubiquitous serving-maids. "And find the Elder of the Imperial Viziers. I want a word with him, and he's late!"
"The Elder is here, Arteshbod." Her voice remained unchanged, though her eyes had a hint of steel in them. "The Elder is me."
Both naval and land commanders looked her over, unconvinced. The position of Elder, as the name implied, was typically held by one of the veteran advisors, appointed by the Emperor as he chose. This woman was barely in her thirties - hardly old enough to be one of the viziers at all. A female advisor was not unheard of, though uncommon. A female Elder, though? And one so young?
She sighed under their gazes. "Yes, I know. So young? And a woman? Well, I didn't expect it either. Our glorious Emperor, however, heard wind that they have women in positions of power over in Kelios, and decided I - as the only woman in the council of viziers - was the perfect choice to become the new Elder in his ever-present slavish imitation of our western neighbors." A thin smile crossed her face. "The other advisors went along with it, thinking I'd be easy to manipulate. I hope to prove them wrong."
The two military men exchanged glances. The Sepahbod shrugged. The Arteshbod grunted, and for a flourish, rolled his eyes. The Emperor's fascination with Kelios was common knowledge, and so this wasn't too much of a stretch. "Then welcome to our little group of conspirators. And for the good of this young country I hope you can help us find out what's wrong with Yaran!"
"Actually ... I can." She strode further into the room, settling into a chair at an oblique angle across the table from the wiry Sepahbod. The Arteshbod remained standing, a hulking mountain in his military finery. "You see, gentlemen, the good Emperor has decided to practice Alse."
The reactions were instantaneous. The commander of the armies nearly snapped the table in two - "He what?!" - while the naval man frowned a little more deeply. "That sounds suspiciously like a religion."
"Close." The Elder leaned back into her chair a bit, comfortable at having brought knowledge the two men lacked. "It's a philosophy of sorts. No gods or spirits involved. Goes on about leading the people down some true path to perfection or somesuch. Guess where it's from?"
The Sepahbod's eyes narrowed. "Kelios."
The woman nodded. "Indeed. A Kelosian philosophy, followed by an Emperor overly friendly to Kelios, who just handed the Kelios ambassador - what was it you said, Arteshbod? Everything short of the night patrol's passwords? I wouldn't be surprised if he gave those away too."
The big man had the decency to blush a bit as he realized how far his voice had been carrying, but quickly covered it in another rush of anger. "He's practically inviting them to walk in and set up their rule over us - and the worst part is there's nothing we can do! Not tied up with the damn pirates. If I pull my men back they'll retake those islands and all those lives will be for nothing!"
The Sepahbod nodded in agreement. "And I need all my ships to keep those supply lines open, not to mention guard the harbors and shorelines against raiders."
The Elder pursed her lips. "Well, I can try suggesting to the council that we fund more troops and shipbuilders, but I don't know how well it'll go over. They all have their little pet projects they want to devote the treasury to."
"It might be nothing." The Sepahbod raised his voice again. "Chancosanx is a very real threat against both our empires. Religious fanatics don't sit around idle for long without crusading about something or other."
"Perhaps." The woman gave a short nod. "But we can't count on that." Both men indicated their agreement.
"We'll think of something." The naval commander's voice was resolved. So too was that of the Arteshbod, though still with an undercurrent of fury beneath his words. "We have to."
The Arteshbod, supreme commander of the Syracian armies, bellowed in impotent fury, stalking about the private meeting-room and venting his wrath on any crockery within reach.
"Do you know what he did? What that scum-sucking excuse for a ruler did?!" The crash of broken pottery punctuated the last few words of the Arteshbod's sentence. The Sepahbod, commander of Syracia's naval forces - what there was left of them after the ferocious battles with the pirates - listened calmly as his compatriot repeated, again, what he had already screamed aloud at least three times.
"Our troop deployments! Our strengths! Our strategies in the east - I'm surprised he didn't give them the passwords the night patrols use! He just up and gives it all to the hogspawned ambassador from Kelios - what was he thinking?!" A large and heavily-booted foot slammed down on an ornate brass drinking vessel that had been knocked to the floor, crushing it flat. "Of all the stupid, brainless, idiot things to do - you know the ambassador got out of the empire as fast as he possibly could that same night? And we haven't had word from them since - they're planning something, and it's all his fault!"
A softer, feminine voice cut in from the now-open doorway the moment the Arteshbod stopped to draw breath. "If I didn't know better, my dear Arteshbod, I'd think you were vexed with our esteemed ruler."
The overgeneral of the Syracian armies spun on his heel, eyes shooting daggers at the robed woman standing at the door. "Get lost!" He bellowed, thinking her one of the palace's ubiquitous serving-maids. "And find the Elder of the Imperial Viziers. I want a word with him, and he's late!"
"The Elder is here, Arteshbod." Her voice remained unchanged, though her eyes had a hint of steel in them. "The Elder is me."
Both naval and land commanders looked her over, unconvinced. The position of Elder, as the name implied, was typically held by one of the veteran advisors, appointed by the Emperor as he chose. This woman was barely in her thirties - hardly old enough to be one of the viziers at all. A female advisor was not unheard of, though uncommon. A female Elder, though? And one so young?
She sighed under their gazes. "Yes, I know. So young? And a woman? Well, I didn't expect it either. Our glorious Emperor, however, heard wind that they have women in positions of power over in Kelios, and decided I - as the only woman in the council of viziers - was the perfect choice to become the new Elder in his ever-present slavish imitation of our western neighbors." A thin smile crossed her face. "The other advisors went along with it, thinking I'd be easy to manipulate. I hope to prove them wrong."
The two military men exchanged glances. The Sepahbod shrugged. The Arteshbod grunted, and for a flourish, rolled his eyes. The Emperor's fascination with Kelios was common knowledge, and so this wasn't too much of a stretch. "Then welcome to our little group of conspirators. And for the good of this young country I hope you can help us find out what's wrong with Yaran!"
"Actually ... I can." She strode further into the room, settling into a chair at an oblique angle across the table from the wiry Sepahbod. The Arteshbod remained standing, a hulking mountain in his military finery. "You see, gentlemen, the good Emperor has decided to practice Alse."
The reactions were instantaneous. The commander of the armies nearly snapped the table in two - "He what?!" - while the naval man frowned a little more deeply. "That sounds suspiciously like a religion."
"Close." The Elder leaned back into her chair a bit, comfortable at having brought knowledge the two men lacked. "It's a philosophy of sorts. No gods or spirits involved. Goes on about leading the people down some true path to perfection or somesuch. Guess where it's from?"
The Sepahbod's eyes narrowed. "Kelios."
The woman nodded. "Indeed. A Kelosian philosophy, followed by an Emperor overly friendly to Kelios, who just handed the Kelios ambassador - what was it you said, Arteshbod? Everything short of the night patrol's passwords? I wouldn't be surprised if he gave those away too."
The big man had the decency to blush a bit as he realized how far his voice had been carrying, but quickly covered it in another rush of anger. "He's practically inviting them to walk in and set up their rule over us - and the worst part is there's nothing we can do! Not tied up with the damn pirates. If I pull my men back they'll retake those islands and all those lives will be for nothing!"
The Sepahbod nodded in agreement. "And I need all my ships to keep those supply lines open, not to mention guard the harbors and shorelines against raiders."
The Elder pursed her lips. "Well, I can try suggesting to the council that we fund more troops and shipbuilders, but I don't know how well it'll go over. They all have their little pet projects they want to devote the treasury to."
"It might be nothing." The Sepahbod raised his voice again. "Chancosanx is a very real threat against both our empires. Religious fanatics don't sit around idle for long without crusading about something or other."
"Perhaps." The woman gave a short nod. "But we can't count on that." Both men indicated their agreement.
"We'll think of something." The naval commander's voice was resolved. So too was that of the Arteshbod, though still with an undercurrent of fury beneath his words. "We have to."
jalapeno_dude
AKA Panda Judo Eel
Orders sent.
The Knight stood over the armour of his mentor and friend. Ithauer's body had already risen to the heavens. But the black armour, punctured in so many places, no longer a blackness that your eyes skated off, more dull and worn lay before him. Broken.
The Knight rested a hand over the helmet and closed the visor. Mind wondering paths; These final battle had broken his enemies, and now they sought peace. The time was right, the Khemris wounds were deep, and needed time to heal. He needed to heal.
Ithauers death still felt oddly right, and this did not sit well with the Knight. He felt guilt. He would await the revelation, he felt like it was Ithauers final lesson. Something he had to figure out for himself. He just needed time.
A Prince, now King had arose to a throne in turbulant times, and as was the custom, he put his child in the Military, so he could learn the affairs of diplomacy of last resort.
His child still laughed and ran, naive of the world, the King however had grown quickly, forced perhaps by the war. He felt that his choices had been correct, The Knight had saved them, as had Ithaeur. The Knight was still young, for such an accomplished general. He remembered the man he had seen, pondering the philosophy of war on a clifftop. Perhaps he'd learned of it.
He had summoned him back to Khadon. Keen to rebuild the Kingdom with his friend. What walked in however made him purse his lips. Black Armour. His replies were curt and to the point. A misdeamoner that the King forgave, by giving him a different task from that originally intended.
"You will protect my son, and teach him, you will become his mentor,"
The King spoke;
"Sire,"
The Knight replied; and left the room.
The King sighed. He saw his position as one of protecting the people he ruled over, he took this seriously. He had seen the aura around The Knight. The King had also felt Ithauers lesson, he had grasped its meaning, The Knights interpetation had been different however.
"Broken men, cannot heal" He whispered.
OOC: still not finished
Just been thinking again about how similar my religion is to JD's. I'm guessing we have only one serious divergance, wrt to war
The Knight rested a hand over the helmet and closed the visor. Mind wondering paths; These final battle had broken his enemies, and now they sought peace. The time was right, the Khemris wounds were deep, and needed time to heal. He needed to heal.
Ithauers death still felt oddly right, and this did not sit well with the Knight. He felt guilt. He would await the revelation, he felt like it was Ithauers final lesson. Something he had to figure out for himself. He just needed time.
****
A Prince, now King had arose to a throne in turbulant times, and as was the custom, he put his child in the Military, so he could learn the affairs of diplomacy of last resort.
His child still laughed and ran, naive of the world, the King however had grown quickly, forced perhaps by the war. He felt that his choices had been correct, The Knight had saved them, as had Ithaeur. The Knight was still young, for such an accomplished general. He remembered the man he had seen, pondering the philosophy of war on a clifftop. Perhaps he'd learned of it.
He had summoned him back to Khadon. Keen to rebuild the Kingdom with his friend. What walked in however made him purse his lips. Black Armour. His replies were curt and to the point. A misdeamoner that the King forgave, by giving him a different task from that originally intended.
"You will protect my son, and teach him, you will become his mentor,"
The King spoke;
"Sire,"
The Knight replied; and left the room.
The King sighed. He saw his position as one of protecting the people he ruled over, he took this seriously. He had seen the aura around The Knight. The King had also felt Ithauers lesson, he had grasped its meaning, The Knights interpetation had been different however.
"Broken men, cannot heal" He whispered.
OOC: still not finished
Just been thinking again about how similar my religion is to JD's. I'm guessing we have only one serious divergance, wrt to war
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
“May the gods continue to bless us with great things. Conquest and glory! Magland is the greater than Trinlin ever was. For the better the world ruled by the Mags!” So said Odan, Emperor of the Mags and head member of the royal house of Osman. Leaders of this great land for centuries. As he sat in a throne room surrounded by his generals and higher noblemen.
“We conquered and with what we conquered brought back slaves and treasure for which out peoples have never seen. Making us wealthy in more ways than ever deemed possible.”
Cheers for Odan in his Hall. The men and women surrounding him are wealthy and well fed. Drinking and eating at a premium. Something they now to could afford.
“But settle down my friends. Something else worries me. We have no lands uncivilized left to conquer. Only the nations around us. The mighty and rich Guangfei…unfortunately we do not possess the armies to conquer her. Rozan, small but equally as challenging. Then we have our most likely target. Destre. Small weak and completely open to our soldiers. Coastline brings wealth. The tundra to our south is poor and we cannot fight the ones around us, but Destre. Destre is special.” Beginning to chuckle he exclaims. “it is almost as if they placed a large sign saying conquer us.”
Of course being the Emperor and finding himself funny the rest of his company to laugh. One man calls out to him.
“but the armies of Destre are so powerful sire, what should we ever do…”
Continueing the laughter.
“Your right..” he barely holds back laughter perhaps largely due to the wine in his belly. He looks as if he is pondering. “I’ve got it! We shall send an ultimatum to them. Join us…or perish at the hands of my men, Maglands men!”
The generals in presence give out three army grunt type things. “Hu-ah, hu-ah, hu-ah!”
------------
To: Destre
From: Empire of Maglands
We offer to you our generous proposal of Annexation into our great Empire. Saving countless lives in the process.
OOC: Orders coming tonight sometime. Most likely post 9PM so please wait IGGY!
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
Are you considering my proposal, Iggy? Orders ticking in...
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
Orders sent. 
(Why am I this gleeful? I have no idea)
(Why am I this gleeful? I have no idea)
