~Darkening~
Weep, Mother.
Shush
. I'm talking about my final number, as there's two different ones ;].
LINESII- Into the Darkness- Part III
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
Shush
. I'm talking about my final number, as there's two different ones ;].
That was the only story I remember Dominius from.
Agriculture and Mining, with a little trade.
Oh good grief, look what you've done Wubba!Might as well comment on mine as well
Agricultural, with tons of production of goods and exports of luxuries. Lots of mining in the mountains, though most of the nation is mineral poor, other than Jade around Hangshei.
I fixed it, did I not?Shush
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
I'm the only one who doesn't want to hear his economy, because I already know. Burned out agriculture, burned out industry, burned out mining, oh, look a tree! Oh wait, it's burned.
Wubba, at least have the common courtesy to declare war on me.
Wubba, at least have the common courtesy to declare war on me.
Grombar
Fire in the Hole
We shall see if I even last long enought to get an economy going!
Iggy do my economy....
or just say everything
Lots of everything, lots of finished product export, huge amounts of interior trade from region to region, and there are few places your traders don't reach (though they don't go to Azulia, and Fairhelt is too ice-packed to trade with. And some southern interior nations are inaccessible.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Tactius
“He was an enigma, and a genius. Tellus has never seen his equal since…”
-Telrikos Seltian, Military Minds
Prologue:
They entered the city of Sintonia in a rain of fire, Oceanus directing the bombardment, and Stratikrator leading the men, charging, onto the flaming docks. Virconus and Selenica, husband and wife, commanders of the last Valin army, and the last Valin fleet.
When they finally reached the gates of the capital, their battle had already been won. The Bladeists lay slaughtered, and the Han Emperor had agreed to vacate the heap of rubble that was once called Redemption.
On that day, the white-haired child was born, in the ruins of the great city. His mother gave birth in the shattered, burnt-out hulk of the Tower of Command, lifting her son, still covered in the blood of the womb, up to see his home. The infant’s first sight was the vision of a marble city, buildings collapsed, streets covered in refuse, walls overturned.
They named him Tactius.
---
Gray-haired, aging Stratikrator Virconus turned to his wife as the waves lapped the shore. What natural beauty they had in such a rich land, but contrasted with this wretched poverty!
The Stratikrator lowered his eyes to the ground, in shame. Selenica turned, frowming. “Tell me, what troubles you?”
He snorted. “How can you have eyes and ask me that question? We have a tiny population of immigrant Valins and a few converted Sintonians, while a seething mass of Bladeists constantly threatens to explode in rebellion. In five years, the reconstruction of Redemption has barely begun! And the land is ruined from centuries of Swade barbarity. To see this done to a Valin land…”
She clicked her tongue, wryly. “An easy thing to say, but liberated nations always behave this way. Thank the One you never invaded Eldrania, or besieged the gates of Swade, like poor Telos and his men. And it has only been a few years. Things will change.”
“I doubt it. Not in my lifetime at least.”
They gazed down at their son, playing on the sand.
“Have you seen him lately?”
Virconus shook his head sadly. “Not since my trip to Saenium. And now I must go again, to investigate these rumors of a Bladeist landing force to the south.”
The Oceanus pretended not to care, staring out into the ocean. “He builds castles out of sand.”
“That’s normal enough.”
“No, not a simple castle. He always starts with a small one, carving out turrets and battlements with a stick. But then he destroys it, not completely, but only partially. He throws pebbles at the base of the wall, and collapses half of the tower. Then he rebuilds the castle using the ruined one as a base, larger and taller than before, and destroys it again. The cycle continues for hours, and I have to pull him away from the beach at night.”
“This doesn’t seem healthy. I’m sure you have a board of Strategy in the Silver Victory; Envus will gladly teach him the rules. That man has been like a second father to the boy.”
“Yes,” Selenica muttered, “I suppose…”
The boy carefully, intricately destroyed the castle down on the beach below, playing quietly as the waves lapped the shore.
---
The Stratikrator felt his age catching up to him. It had been ten years since that day on the beach, and so little had changed. Valins slowly trickled in, but never enough to keep a firm hold on the whole land. The reconstruction of Redemption had slowed to a crawl, with the titanic, two hundred fifty foot walls barely half-repaired.
Myocacan landing forces had spread like the plague, barely contained by the Stratikrator in Redemption, and his chief lieutenant, Host-Lord Envus in Paleras. If only he had been younger, or the Oceanus wasn’t sailing to Norvalin with her flagship when the attack began…if only Redemption had held, so many years ago.
The Tower of Command stood eerily above the city like a broken spear, the upper floors being long since destroyed, collapsed by Stratikrator Thanatos as he retreated from the Citadel. Strange as it seemed, his son had chosen that place for his quarters. The flimsy, wooden gates of the partially rebuilt Citadel were opened to admit the Stratikrator, and he made directly for his son’s chambers.
Tactius rose from his chair with a thin smile when he saw Virconus enter the room. Father and son embraced, and sat in chairs by the flickering fire. His son was taller, the Stratikrator saw, his head still covered by that strange, white hair. Unemotional as ever, the son raised an eyebrow at his father’s pained expression.
“How goes the war?”
The Stratikrator suppressed an urge to lay down and die. “It goes. Envus holds in Paleras, and your mother maintains the blockade. The skirmishes are bleeding us dry, and we can no longer afford it. The countryside openly supplies the Myocacans, and we hold them barely on the edge of rebellion.”
“And your time is coming to an end,” his son matter-of-factly observed.
“Yes. And yours will begin.”
“Father,” Tactius began, “I do not want to be Stratikrator.”
Virconus’ eyes widened. So the rumors were true. “My son,” he almost moaned, “we are living on the brink of total collapse. What could be more important than your duty to the Valin people?”
“You know, my father,” Tactius replied, “I have been studying and dissecting insects in your absence, and recording my observations.”
His father stared, unbelieving.
“It would seem that Pelias the Younger was wrong in his hypotheses. In the chrysalis, the caterpillar grows wings, which are initially filled with liquid veins, weak and unstable. However, these veins harden, which allows the butterfly to emerge from the cocoon, utterly transformed.”
His father bubbled with rage. “An enemy army is encamped not thirty miles from our city. Valin soldiers are dying to protect this place every day…and all you can think about IS INSECTS?”
His son raised another eyebrow. “You seem to have me mistaken, father. I never said that I would not fight, only that I did not wish to be Stratikrator.”
“But then what…”
“The principle of the metamorphosis, father, do you see? We are in that period of transformation, locked inside a cocoon. We fear this, because it is not what it was. But the caterpillar does not fear the butterfly it will become.”
“My son, I love you with all my heart. But what does this mean?
“We must undergo metamorphosis in order to survive. The initial weakness of the caterpillar, its slow speed and weak defenses, are merely a preparation for a transformation into a glorious state. The Valin people are changing, but they require a leader to guide them through the change.”
“You want…to be High Elder, then?”
“It will become clear in time.”
“He was an enigma, and a genius. Tellus has never seen his equal since…”
-Telrikos Seltian, Military Minds
Prologue:
They entered the city of Sintonia in a rain of fire, Oceanus directing the bombardment, and Stratikrator leading the men, charging, onto the flaming docks. Virconus and Selenica, husband and wife, commanders of the last Valin army, and the last Valin fleet.
When they finally reached the gates of the capital, their battle had already been won. The Bladeists lay slaughtered, and the Han Emperor had agreed to vacate the heap of rubble that was once called Redemption.
On that day, the white-haired child was born, in the ruins of the great city. His mother gave birth in the shattered, burnt-out hulk of the Tower of Command, lifting her son, still covered in the blood of the womb, up to see his home. The infant’s first sight was the vision of a marble city, buildings collapsed, streets covered in refuse, walls overturned.
They named him Tactius.
---
Gray-haired, aging Stratikrator Virconus turned to his wife as the waves lapped the shore. What natural beauty they had in such a rich land, but contrasted with this wretched poverty!
The Stratikrator lowered his eyes to the ground, in shame. Selenica turned, frowming. “Tell me, what troubles you?”
He snorted. “How can you have eyes and ask me that question? We have a tiny population of immigrant Valins and a few converted Sintonians, while a seething mass of Bladeists constantly threatens to explode in rebellion. In five years, the reconstruction of Redemption has barely begun! And the land is ruined from centuries of Swade barbarity. To see this done to a Valin land…”
She clicked her tongue, wryly. “An easy thing to say, but liberated nations always behave this way. Thank the One you never invaded Eldrania, or besieged the gates of Swade, like poor Telos and his men. And it has only been a few years. Things will change.”
“I doubt it. Not in my lifetime at least.”
They gazed down at their son, playing on the sand.
“Have you seen him lately?”
Virconus shook his head sadly. “Not since my trip to Saenium. And now I must go again, to investigate these rumors of a Bladeist landing force to the south.”
The Oceanus pretended not to care, staring out into the ocean. “He builds castles out of sand.”
“That’s normal enough.”
“No, not a simple castle. He always starts with a small one, carving out turrets and battlements with a stick. But then he destroys it, not completely, but only partially. He throws pebbles at the base of the wall, and collapses half of the tower. Then he rebuilds the castle using the ruined one as a base, larger and taller than before, and destroys it again. The cycle continues for hours, and I have to pull him away from the beach at night.”
“This doesn’t seem healthy. I’m sure you have a board of Strategy in the Silver Victory; Envus will gladly teach him the rules. That man has been like a second father to the boy.”
“Yes,” Selenica muttered, “I suppose…”
The boy carefully, intricately destroyed the castle down on the beach below, playing quietly as the waves lapped the shore.
---
The Stratikrator felt his age catching up to him. It had been ten years since that day on the beach, and so little had changed. Valins slowly trickled in, but never enough to keep a firm hold on the whole land. The reconstruction of Redemption had slowed to a crawl, with the titanic, two hundred fifty foot walls barely half-repaired.
Myocacan landing forces had spread like the plague, barely contained by the Stratikrator in Redemption, and his chief lieutenant, Host-Lord Envus in Paleras. If only he had been younger, or the Oceanus wasn’t sailing to Norvalin with her flagship when the attack began…if only Redemption had held, so many years ago.
The Tower of Command stood eerily above the city like a broken spear, the upper floors being long since destroyed, collapsed by Stratikrator Thanatos as he retreated from the Citadel. Strange as it seemed, his son had chosen that place for his quarters. The flimsy, wooden gates of the partially rebuilt Citadel were opened to admit the Stratikrator, and he made directly for his son’s chambers.
Tactius rose from his chair with a thin smile when he saw Virconus enter the room. Father and son embraced, and sat in chairs by the flickering fire. His son was taller, the Stratikrator saw, his head still covered by that strange, white hair. Unemotional as ever, the son raised an eyebrow at his father’s pained expression.
“How goes the war?”
The Stratikrator suppressed an urge to lay down and die. “It goes. Envus holds in Paleras, and your mother maintains the blockade. The skirmishes are bleeding us dry, and we can no longer afford it. The countryside openly supplies the Myocacans, and we hold them barely on the edge of rebellion.”
“And your time is coming to an end,” his son matter-of-factly observed.
“Yes. And yours will begin.”
“Father,” Tactius began, “I do not want to be Stratikrator.”
Virconus’ eyes widened. So the rumors were true. “My son,” he almost moaned, “we are living on the brink of total collapse. What could be more important than your duty to the Valin people?”
“You know, my father,” Tactius replied, “I have been studying and dissecting insects in your absence, and recording my observations.”
His father stared, unbelieving.
“It would seem that Pelias the Younger was wrong in his hypotheses. In the chrysalis, the caterpillar grows wings, which are initially filled with liquid veins, weak and unstable. However, these veins harden, which allows the butterfly to emerge from the cocoon, utterly transformed.”
His father bubbled with rage. “An enemy army is encamped not thirty miles from our city. Valin soldiers are dying to protect this place every day…and all you can think about IS INSECTS?”
His son raised another eyebrow. “You seem to have me mistaken, father. I never said that I would not fight, only that I did not wish to be Stratikrator.”
“But then what…”
“The principle of the metamorphosis, father, do you see? We are in that period of transformation, locked inside a cocoon. We fear this, because it is not what it was. But the caterpillar does not fear the butterfly it will become.”
“My son, I love you with all my heart. But what does this mean?
“We must undergo metamorphosis in order to survive. The initial weakness of the caterpillar, its slow speed and weak defenses, are merely a preparation for a transformation into a glorious state. The Valin people are changing, but they require a leader to guide them through the change.”
“You want…to be High Elder, then?”
“It will become clear in time.”
~Darkening~
Weep, Mother.
Iggy, I meanth my eco total . As stated before, i counted eight (maybe nine) but the fornt page said six.
EDIT: Nvm, I looked at the front page and you changed it. Didn't see any noticeso I never bothered to look. Thanks.
. As stated before, i counted eight (maybe nine) but the fornt page said six.EDIT: Nvm, I looked at the front page and you changed it. Didn't see any noticeso I never bothered to look. Thanks.
Wubba360
Emperor
To: Aryie
From: CBEM
We will allow you to have say in foreign events and you are priveleged a seat as an independent nation in the international Council of Blade. We do not believe the High Priest should be restored with full power. Instead we see it best that the High Priest be the leader of a legislative assembly with the power to sign laws into order, tax, and have joint power with the King over the courts. The enforcement of such laws will be left to the King. As to the term in which Aryie remains a vassal, we have yet to make that conclusion.
To: Valin Republic
From: CBEM
We sent our message before. Leave Sintonia. We will not tolerate you presence. We do not want to fight another war, but if you want to commit suicide, please just order your army to march off a cliff. ITs far more easier.
From: CBEM
We will allow you to have say in foreign events and you are priveleged a seat as an independent nation in the international Council of Blade. We do not believe the High Priest should be restored with full power. Instead we see it best that the High Priest be the leader of a legislative assembly with the power to sign laws into order, tax, and have joint power with the King over the courts. The enforcement of such laws will be left to the King. As to the term in which Aryie remains a vassal, we have yet to make that conclusion.
To: Valin Republic
From: CBEM
We sent our message before. Leave Sintonia. We will not tolerate you presence. We do not want to fight another war, but if you want to commit suicide, please just order your army to march off a cliff. ITs far more easier.
Wubba360
Emperor
It is well that war is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it.
Rogalius Dorn
-----------------------------------------------
Yahmed walked across the harsh mountain terrain of the Sintonian Mountains. Walking alone, an ant in an endless sea of desolation. He was to young to have seen the days of Veritasian rule. His grandfather had told him once of the wealth that poured in.
But even then the poison of depression was taking over the region. The war with Guangfei had taken its toll on the nation, and now the mother country sought to liberate its old friends and avenge the treachery that Veritas had taken to try and side with the Lengel Horde.
His grandfather had fought in that war, beside the Sultan in glorious battle. Or at least thats what he was told. War was honored by women. Any man who claimed to have felt the sand between his cheeks and felt the grit of hand to hand combat was a christened hero.
Yahmed had joined the resistance to gain that honor his father, and his father's father had attained in their days. But now the land was scarred by relentless war. Only a month ago he had gone off to join the Cultesian Empire beach head. It was hardly what he expected.
Sitting shifts watching for Veritasins. IT bored him, but he had no where to go anymore. He had to go with his rations. Stationed with the 27th Militia Division he was stationed in the Mountain range. The old seargent Hiliite led their squad tirelessly.
Running finally down into camp Yahmed made his report, "Sir, Valin militia 10 leagues as the crow flies north of our position."
"How many?"
"No more than a few hundred."
"Good work Junior. Men we move out towards main base. General Rubeon and Dath are waiting for us."
Walth, tall in size, dark skinned, born in the blade ranged, piped up, "Hopefully we don't run into those cock munchers..."
Jeb, pale skinned blonde haired, a scar across his face, "You know better **** bag, those damn valts can reach these height or they **** themselves..."
The Lietenant, or scepter in Bladeist hierarchy, Hephian laughed, "Where you hear that one Jeb."
"I hear that everywhere, me own grandfather told me about it, when he was fighting them **** in the mountains. Charging at him one after the other, looking over the cliffs they panicked. Then a simple push sent them *****es to their death."
"Well those asses still can hear you a league away. Now pack up men and move to camp."
--------------------------------------------------------
Back at camp the Scepter met with the generals and the other officers. Meanwhile WAlth told Yahmed the day of the invasion.
"We were sailing this way on that giant ship over yonder, the Ramise, well I don't know if you have found out, but them smarts back home figured a whole new design of warfare. They call it Nathalm or some ****...anyway when we met up with the refugee boats we thought, 'Hell we in for a real fight, not just some Aryien boylovers.' So hen we finally make it to shore we find ourselves facing down a small group a militia. These men are ready for us, so good old Reubun over there decides we give em a surprise. We armed this Nathalm crap onto the ballistaes. Now we light fuses I guess and launch these babies in the air. Now, this ain't no Valin or Swade fire ****, this stuff is weacked. It blew up in mid air and suddenly fire comes raining down on the enemy. The enitre beach head in on fire and all we do is watch and wait for them fires to go out, every wonder why these here beaches so charcoal? Well now you know boy."
-----------------------------------------
Meanwhile aboard the "Bloodlust" the officers debated.
"Now Hephian you will take your men to ambush the Valins who have stumbled to far into our territory."
"Sir, isn't it Ornalk's turn."
"Don't challenge me Scepter or I will personally assign you front line duty."
"Very well."
"Men you are dismissed." As the officers filed out, Rubeon, now grey in age, bristling with scars from his battles, most notably the one from Herim tower.
"Dath why did we come back here?"
"Obvious, fight the Valins, what you finding your Oneist blood taking hold over ya."
"Huh...I mean I want this to end. We stumbled into this war. We don't even want to be here, but now we are trapped. And these fools. They bring war on themselves time and again. War is Hell my friend. Now no longer am I the man fighting, but sending them to their deaths. And I know it is not true, but every time I make an order, I feel those men's blood are on my hands."
"Rubeon, war has always been this way, and we fight so our children may live in peace."
"But that's what our ancestors have all done, when will we realize it must stop."
"Perhaps never. This is history, it is only hope that keeps us going, it may be foolish. But Hell, it is all we got."
Rogalius Dorn
-----------------------------------------------
Yahmed walked across the harsh mountain terrain of the Sintonian Mountains. Walking alone, an ant in an endless sea of desolation. He was to young to have seen the days of Veritasian rule. His grandfather had told him once of the wealth that poured in.
But even then the poison of depression was taking over the region. The war with Guangfei had taken its toll on the nation, and now the mother country sought to liberate its old friends and avenge the treachery that Veritas had taken to try and side with the Lengel Horde.
His grandfather had fought in that war, beside the Sultan in glorious battle. Or at least thats what he was told. War was honored by women. Any man who claimed to have felt the sand between his cheeks and felt the grit of hand to hand combat was a christened hero.
Yahmed had joined the resistance to gain that honor his father, and his father's father had attained in their days. But now the land was scarred by relentless war. Only a month ago he had gone off to join the Cultesian Empire beach head. It was hardly what he expected.
Sitting shifts watching for Veritasins. IT bored him, but he had no where to go anymore. He had to go with his rations. Stationed with the 27th Militia Division he was stationed in the Mountain range. The old seargent Hiliite led their squad tirelessly.
Running finally down into camp Yahmed made his report, "Sir, Valin militia 10 leagues as the crow flies north of our position."
"How many?"
"No more than a few hundred."
"Good work Junior. Men we move out towards main base. General Rubeon and Dath are waiting for us."
Walth, tall in size, dark skinned, born in the blade ranged, piped up, "Hopefully we don't run into those cock munchers..."
Jeb, pale skinned blonde haired, a scar across his face, "You know better **** bag, those damn valts can reach these height or they **** themselves..."
The Lietenant, or scepter in Bladeist hierarchy, Hephian laughed, "Where you hear that one Jeb."
"I hear that everywhere, me own grandfather told me about it, when he was fighting them **** in the mountains. Charging at him one after the other, looking over the cliffs they panicked. Then a simple push sent them *****es to their death."
"Well those asses still can hear you a league away. Now pack up men and move to camp."
--------------------------------------------------------
Back at camp the Scepter met with the generals and the other officers. Meanwhile WAlth told Yahmed the day of the invasion.
"We were sailing this way on that giant ship over yonder, the Ramise, well I don't know if you have found out, but them smarts back home figured a whole new design of warfare. They call it Nathalm or some ****...anyway when we met up with the refugee boats we thought, 'Hell we in for a real fight, not just some Aryien boylovers.' So hen we finally make it to shore we find ourselves facing down a small group a militia. These men are ready for us, so good old Reubun over there decides we give em a surprise. We armed this Nathalm crap onto the ballistaes. Now we light fuses I guess and launch these babies in the air. Now, this ain't no Valin or Swade fire ****, this stuff is weacked. It blew up in mid air and suddenly fire comes raining down on the enemy. The enitre beach head in on fire and all we do is watch and wait for them fires to go out, every wonder why these here beaches so charcoal? Well now you know boy."
-----------------------------------------
Meanwhile aboard the "Bloodlust" the officers debated.
"Now Hephian you will take your men to ambush the Valins who have stumbled to far into our territory."
"Sir, isn't it Ornalk's turn."
"Don't challenge me Scepter or I will personally assign you front line duty."
"Very well."
"Men you are dismissed." As the officers filed out, Rubeon, now grey in age, bristling with scars from his battles, most notably the one from Herim tower.
"Dath why did we come back here?"
"Obvious, fight the Valins, what you finding your Oneist blood taking hold over ya."
"Huh...I mean I want this to end. We stumbled into this war. We don't even want to be here, but now we are trapped. And these fools. They bring war on themselves time and again. War is Hell my friend. Now no longer am I the man fighting, but sending them to their deaths. And I know it is not true, but every time I make an order, I feel those men's blood are on my hands."
"Rubeon, war has always been this way, and we fight so our children may live in peace."
"But that's what our ancestors have all done, when will we realize it must stop."
"Perhaps never. This is history, it is only hope that keeps us going, it may be foolish. But Hell, it is all we got."
OOC: The Myocacan military has a serious case of potty-mouth. 
IC:
TO: Chancosanx
FROM: Syracia
While your offer of both peace and assistance is appreciated, there are two problems with it.
Firstly, Syracia does not abandon its allies in the midst of a struggle. Kelios has helped us greatly, and furthermore are the only other nation ruled by rational minds and not superstition.
Second, the fall of Kelios would leave a very powerful nation of the same superstitious peoples who slew our beloved Emperor on our very doorstep. It would be too easy a matter to march on a state occupied with other fighting and commit on a grand scale what was done to Emperor Yaran.
So, once again, while we appreciate the offer, we shall have to decline.
(P.S.: Our most sincere apologies for the condition of your boat. Some of our soldiers overreacted a bit when they saw the Chancosanx markings. We did get it mostly seaworthy again, and your message was more or less readable.)
IC:
TO: Chancosanx
FROM: Syracia
While your offer of both peace and assistance is appreciated, there are two problems with it.
Firstly, Syracia does not abandon its allies in the midst of a struggle. Kelios has helped us greatly, and furthermore are the only other nation ruled by rational minds and not superstition.
Second, the fall of Kelios would leave a very powerful nation of the same superstitious peoples who slew our beloved Emperor on our very doorstep. It would be too easy a matter to march on a state occupied with other fighting and commit on a grand scale what was done to Emperor Yaran.
So, once again, while we appreciate the offer, we shall have to decline.
(P.S.: Our most sincere apologies for the condition of your boat. Some of our soldiers overreacted a bit when they saw the Chancosanx markings. We did get it mostly seaworthy again, and your message was more or less readable.)
Wubba360
Emperor
OOC: The Myocacan military has a serious case of potty-mouth.
Only real men say that language. Mainly trying Vietnam war language, saw scene from "Platoon" in class today, so I got in the mood
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Tactius
"He will pass them all."
-Last words of Stratikrator Virconus
Part One:
The funeral procession wound its way through the streets, Scimitari bearing the two coffins on their shoulders. Tactius wore black, and the blackness of his robe and cloak contrasted with his pure white hair. The soldiers were visibly sweating in the heat, but the black-robed young man showed no sign of discomfort. He silently watched the bodies of his parents pass by, and then the grim ranks of soldiers who marched behind with black banners.
They gathered in the Stratikrator's Citadel. The great courtyard was mostly intact.
Tactius climbed the stone base of what was once a great statue of Stratikrator Panteras. He looked out, and saw a sea of faces: thousands of soldiers, holding sword and spear and axe. They waited for this thin, black-cloaked man to speak to them.
"Liberty lies dead," he began, "trampled on and butchered by a thousand pagan kings.'
"We fell into exile for our sins, and the repentance has been great. Our power, our strength, and even our morality has been gradually burned away, leaving behind only the few, the hardest, the most devout. You have fought from Lux to Emor to Exilsium to these shores. And never have you rested."
"The world lies on a hill, with two valleys on either side. One valley leads to freedom and death, the other to life and slavery. Which will you have?"
"The Assemblum has been slaughtered, shattered, and dispersed. And yet, we have refused to admit it: Veritas is no Republic, and has not been for many years. Now the task comes to me, the last of the line, to save this shattered dream of freedom."
"I am a scion of the Strategian house, the last to live upon this earth. The great Autorex has spoken to me, and I have heard his call. Today is the first day of a new epoch, the one spoken of so long ago. We must abandon the foundations of the Republic in order to save it from total distruction."
"I stand before you as no Stratikrator, but as Autorex."
"You were the men of my father and mother. But if you follow me, I do not expect your mere loyalty. I expect your dignity, your allegiance, and your very lives. I expect you to die, not for a dream of a Republic that will not be, but FOR ME. For I am the absolute leader of Veritas."
Silently, rank after rank of the black soldiers saluted. The Phoenix Archers rose to stand behind him, rows of bristling crossbows surrounding the thin man in the black cloak.
"We will restore the Republic, but only through Autoregium."
---
That day, the changes began.
Thousands of Sintonian hostages were rounded up across the countryside, and ushered into the Stratikrator's Citadel. The Autorex held the women and children in the Citadel's deep catacombs, unharmed for the moment. But he sent a messenger to every Sintonian settlement, promising that if they heard even a rumor of rebellion, or aid to the Myocacan hellspawn, every single one would be put to the sword.
Would Tactius follow through with this gruesome promise? None could say, but the threats of rebellion ended, quickly.
There were three hundred and twenty-six Myocacan prisoners under Valin control. That night, the Autorex spoke to them. Very few knew what he said, but two hundred twenty-four converted to the Church of the One that night. The other one hundred and two were beheaded, their headless corpses tossed across the Myocacan lines at night.
The former prisoners of war became the core of the Autorex's Regian Guard. Ironically, almost half of the force was made up of converted Bladeists. Every single one of them would endure countless tortures before allowing harm to come to their leader. There was something strange about the man, that drew people to him. His charisma moved mountains.
The Valin and Bladeist populations of New Veritas began to live their lives in mixed fear and awe, wondering only what the glory and terror of the new Autoregium would bring.
With the first dawn, the Autorex began to work with his subjects, rebuilding the walls that would soon be tested again.
"He will pass them all."
-Last words of Stratikrator Virconus
Part One:
The funeral procession wound its way through the streets, Scimitari bearing the two coffins on their shoulders. Tactius wore black, and the blackness of his robe and cloak contrasted with his pure white hair. The soldiers were visibly sweating in the heat, but the black-robed young man showed no sign of discomfort. He silently watched the bodies of his parents pass by, and then the grim ranks of soldiers who marched behind with black banners.
They gathered in the Stratikrator's Citadel. The great courtyard was mostly intact.
Tactius climbed the stone base of what was once a great statue of Stratikrator Panteras. He looked out, and saw a sea of faces: thousands of soldiers, holding sword and spear and axe. They waited for this thin, black-cloaked man to speak to them.
"Liberty lies dead," he began, "trampled on and butchered by a thousand pagan kings.'
"We fell into exile for our sins, and the repentance has been great. Our power, our strength, and even our morality has been gradually burned away, leaving behind only the few, the hardest, the most devout. You have fought from Lux to Emor to Exilsium to these shores. And never have you rested."
"The world lies on a hill, with two valleys on either side. One valley leads to freedom and death, the other to life and slavery. Which will you have?"
"The Assemblum has been slaughtered, shattered, and dispersed. And yet, we have refused to admit it: Veritas is no Republic, and has not been for many years. Now the task comes to me, the last of the line, to save this shattered dream of freedom."
"I am a scion of the Strategian house, the last to live upon this earth. The great Autorex has spoken to me, and I have heard his call. Today is the first day of a new epoch, the one spoken of so long ago. We must abandon the foundations of the Republic in order to save it from total distruction."
"I stand before you as no Stratikrator, but as Autorex."
"You were the men of my father and mother. But if you follow me, I do not expect your mere loyalty. I expect your dignity, your allegiance, and your very lives. I expect you to die, not for a dream of a Republic that will not be, but FOR ME. For I am the absolute leader of Veritas."
Silently, rank after rank of the black soldiers saluted. The Phoenix Archers rose to stand behind him, rows of bristling crossbows surrounding the thin man in the black cloak.
"We will restore the Republic, but only through Autoregium."
---
That day, the changes began.
Thousands of Sintonian hostages were rounded up across the countryside, and ushered into the Stratikrator's Citadel. The Autorex held the women and children in the Citadel's deep catacombs, unharmed for the moment. But he sent a messenger to every Sintonian settlement, promising that if they heard even a rumor of rebellion, or aid to the Myocacan hellspawn, every single one would be put to the sword.
Would Tactius follow through with this gruesome promise? None could say, but the threats of rebellion ended, quickly.
There were three hundred and twenty-six Myocacan prisoners under Valin control. That night, the Autorex spoke to them. Very few knew what he said, but two hundred twenty-four converted to the Church of the One that night. The other one hundred and two were beheaded, their headless corpses tossed across the Myocacan lines at night.
The former prisoners of war became the core of the Autorex's Regian Guard. Ironically, almost half of the force was made up of converted Bladeists. Every single one of them would endure countless tortures before allowing harm to come to their leader. There was something strange about the man, that drew people to him. His charisma moved mountains.
The Valin and Bladeist populations of New Veritas began to live their lives in mixed fear and awe, wondering only what the glory and terror of the new Autoregium would bring.
With the first dawn, the Autorex began to work with his subjects, rebuilding the walls that would soon be tested again.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Wow, Good direction. Iggy can say I saw it coming, as did a few others.
And classic Hannibal
Thanks. People do see an eerie resemblance to certain dead Stratikrators in him...but he strikes me as more of an Augustus, in personality at least.
From: The Autoregium of Veritas
To: Myocaca
You will bleed this day. You have defiled our shores for the final time. Say what you will, but we will suffer no more! The Valin people were once kind and wise; now they are hunted for their lives in hostile lands. You will learn what it is like to be hunted. You will see and despair as true, horrible pain is brought to your very soul.
You will suffer this day, because you chose to oppose an Emperor.
The Iron Face, they have freed us few from Fairhelt's reign; they have remembered the sacred bonds of brotherhood forged in battle, and fight vailently for freedom.
Words of a retired Merhai soldier, upon learning of the Iron Face invasion in the North
Khorchi the Redeemer, the fallen Khagan who moved to redeem the Lengel nation, and reclaim its homeland, was not said to have had a son. It was rumored that he never even had relations with a woman. When he died, the Iron Face were scattered like the wind, although the northern armies of Gorin were broken by the climatic battle, because no heir apparent could claim to take his place.
Rival warlords rose, and warred over pointless territory while Gorin recovered from its phyrric victory over the Northern lands. A small child came down the mountains near Citadel, named Nekun Taisi, and claimed he was the successor to the late Khorchi, his only son by a woman named Yesui.
No intelligent warlord recognized the little child's claims, but it changed quite quickly when the little child donned the Obsidian mask. Obsidian, being an extremely rare stone, was extremely hard to come by. The broken mask of Khorchi had been almost all the Obsidian that the Lengel nation had left, and it was broken by the Bajo-Oni. His carrying of such a mask spoke of either divine will, or resourcefulness.
The small child raised an army, and gathered the broken tribe underneath his banner. One by one, and two by two he gathered his loyal people. The battle against the Gorinese could not be won anymore, not with as little population that remained after the countless wars and Gorinese killings. So, Nekun fled the ancient homelands into Gammorrea, as the mercanary Iron Face army.
There he spent five years there, growing older, and training in all known concerning warfare, and even learned much of the Citadel knowledge that Gammorrea had gleaned from long years of cooperation. Seeing opportunity, as the Fairfelt grew complacent in that their enemies had been 'destroyed', the young Nekun drove his people north, and then crashed into the weak northern flank of the Fairfelt, collaborating with the Gammorrean armies in destroying Fairfelt.
Now, at last, the Iron Face have gained the upper hand in war against Fairfelt, and will move to restore the Merhai to their original lands in the basian area. Nekun has called for all of Merhai to gather underneath his banner, for the creation of a new state. The Iron Face Republic of Merhai-Fairfelt, underneath the power of the Khagan.
The new nation was beginning to shape up, but the war must be won first. Already, however, all of Merhai is dreaming of victory over their betrayer brothers, and the restoration of nationhood in brotherhood with the Iron Face people. A bright new future might finally be dawning after years of darkness...
