Update 6
1700 A.C. – 2000 A.C.
A being of unimaginable destruction. Bloodlust beyond compare. A hellish heat and fury that caused minds to break by mere proximity.
Nital’s hulking frame now slumped in a massive cell.
The Amaranthinium had finally made good on its promise; it could indeed hold a god. When Nital arrived in the Amaranthinium via portal, alarms sounded and the entire prison-city mobilized. All measures and precautions put into place by Yptych, Statue’s son and demigod of Technology, were executed perfectly. Nital offered no resistance though, and appeared motionless in his prison cell. Cheers rang through the Amaranthinium as wardens, guards, and even prisoners celebrated the capture. A great scourge to mortalkind had been subdued. Yptych had been disappointed by the lack of struggle; he wished to see Nital’s might tested against the barriers and wards he had pieced together for the occasion. This disappointment turned to concern, as Nital remained as still as stone. A perplexing matter, but one for a later time.
For this was a crowning achievement for the Amaranthine Empire! The patron gods of the Empire decreed that celebrations would be held at the Amaranthinium to commemorate the defeat of Vash, Nital, and all of the horrors they brought forth against the forces of righteousness. Oddly enough, several expected figures were not present during most of these festivities. Nyubar, God of Life and Death, had been last seen recovering near Achandrasha, who had set about healing his mind after the terrible encounter with Nital and Vash. Zadre was also absent, although the cause was obvious; she was busy patrolling the Amaranthine Empire and making the realm safe once more. The Demigoddess of War had led a brief campaign on the mainland to restore order, but had to return to the heartland of the Amaranthine Empire after reports of frightening shades and nightmarish beasts roaming the countryside flooded in. Her siblings, Lit and Yptych, remained at the Amaranthinium to enjoy its relative safety and to ensure their father had recovered completely.
One guest of honor had an entire day dedicated to him. Yptych and Statute had announced that on this day, Tai, the First Sun, would walk amongst mortals in Creation. Skeptics scoffed at the notion that Tai, as radiant and sweltering as he was, could possibly descend to Creation. His mere gaze dried up oceans and eviscerated cities. Statute and Yptych were indeed mighty, but why jeopardize the safety of their subjects with a fool’s errand? The local Impostor Church members were quick to pounce on the announcement, foretelling great destruction by vain and selfish gods. These naysayers were quickly chased off by the Order of the Adamant, who would not tolerate such heresies.
On the appointed day, Tai donned the “body” that Yptych had designed for him. Its metal evoked a strange feeling as Tai put on the armor intended to house his radiant form. Tai assumed this was the “cold” that Kross had always been going on about. Tai did not share the enthusiasm of the God of Winter, but nevertheless continued putting on the armor as Yptych had instructed. Finally, clad in a dazzling display of strange metals and gems, Tai was prepared for his descent. Slowly he fell from the sky, ready at any moment to hear the shrieks of mortals. Any moment now the crowds would scream and scatter, and Tai would flee to the heavens. Statute was mad to attempt this, in the Amaranthinium of all places. What if it was damaged? Nital could escape! What i-
Tai’s “feet” touched the ground.
In stunned silence, the assembled crowd gazed upon the Sun God, walking among them. Tai’s head was still wreathed in flame, yet the Sun’s heat did not hurt them. Even Zadre had suspended her campaigning for a time to bear witness to the event; the smug smile that stretched across her brother’s face signaled to her that everything had gone according to plan. Seizing this moment to put it all over-the-top, Yptych embraced Tai and shocked all as the metal body protected him from the heat. At once a cheer rang out among the crowd that could be heard rippling through the city. With the Seven Amber Suns traveling through the sky, Tai could now walk among mortals without worrying about upsetting the balance of the seasons.
While the inhabitants of the Amaranthine Empire were largely drunk with success (those not fighting for their lives in the countryside at least), a sobering message was to be delivered by Statute himself. In an announcement given soon after Tai’s descent, Statute shocked all by announcing the end of the Amaranthine Empire. Instead, the God of Balance explained, it would transition into the Amranthine Republic, and that he would step down as ruler. Lit and Yptych were taken aback by this announcement, while the mortals in attendance struggled to not lose their composure. It had been a commonly held belief that the Amaranthine Empire owed its success to the wise, guiding hand of Statute. Statute foresaw those sentiments, and reassured his citizens that the Republic was in good hands. It boasted the greatest forces the world had ever seen. Its lands dazzled with brilliance and wealth. And his children would remain to guide it on its course through fate’s currents.
With the earth-shattering announcements and celebrations concluded, the newly christened Amaranthine Republic set about the noble task of not crumbling in its infancy. With Zadre once again focused on driving back beasts from Multor, boats full of opportunistic giant raiders, and the occasional raft of cunning Slaagi. While their martially inclined sister secured the heartland of the Republic, Lit and Yptych set about organizing the government. A massive senatorial chamber was devised, where the representatives of the Amaranthine people could debate the next course of action for the Republic. Lit seized the initiative in proposing her own vision for the Republic’s future, while Yptych largely returned to his experiments and inventions. This system worked well for a time; few mortals wished to debate against a literal demigod, who argued for the construction of newer roads and the clearance of more land for the region’s signature crystal trees. Lit argued that more wealth would solve the Republic’s woes and that once Zadre returned home, the Republic could truly get back on its feet.
As it turns out, Zadre’s return to the Amaranthinium caused Lit’s vision to truly be challenged for the first time. Zadre, with a vague understanding of how the debating process worked in the senate, demanded that more men were required for the Crystal Legions. The roads and harbors would have to wait; it would be soldiers, not coins, that would secure the safety of the Republic. Out of the woodworks came representatives who had sheepishly allowed Lit’s proposals to go unopposed. With an equally divine leader at their head, these men and women called for greater security for the Republic.
In time, Lit, Yptych, and Zadre would all take mortal consorts and sire gem-eyed descendants. Viewed more as nobility than the divine, these beings found themselves in positions of leadership. This applied both on the battlefield, as well as in the senate. Their divine blood gave them fewer scruples about challenging one another, or even the original demigods. Shifting factions would form, although Lit and Zadre found themselves on opposing sides of issues frequently. Yptych rarely interfered with matters of governance, but his followers oftentimes used their role as tie-breakers to secure funding for places of learning and science.
Across the Bay of Lapis, the challenges facing the Amaranthine Republic multiplied rapidly. The various client-states and local governments had been thrown into complete disarray by the fallout of Nital’s rampage. Heightened restrictions on migrants hoping to come ashore to the homeland of the Amaranthine Republic had sparked rumors that the Republic intended on withdrawing itself from the rest of Creation. And wasn’t it an empire just a few years ago? Where was Statute? Was it true Tai destroyed the Amaranthinium and set Nital free? Local bureaucrats and rulers attempted to negotiate with the local populace and assuage their fears. Occasionally these efforts succeeded, although the presence of Amaranthine troops was the greatest determining factor when deciding which areas remained loyal and aligned to the Republic. Eventually Zadre returned to the mainland with battle-tested legionnaires in tow and secured more lands for direct rule by the Republic.
Aside from rebellious former client-states, Amaranthine forces encountered foes both strange and familiar. The dog-faced Slaagi struck with surprising ferocity at the borders of the Republic’s colonies. Captured raiders snarled of an end of the world, and that it was up to the Slaagi to herald this end-of-times by destroying the evils of civilization. This bitter resistance, coupled with the relatively arid lands of the south made southern expansion more trouble than its worth in the eyes of Amaranthine generals. A series of forts was established along the mountains near Nyubar’s Citadel to safeguard against these disease-ridden invaders. The occasional warband would manage to ravage isolated communities and valleys, but for the most part the threat has been contained.
Further to the west, the steppes filled with a mysterious mist, which echoed with the thundering of hooves and screams of mortal terror. The Avashai had made their presence known in Creation.
Following exceptionally dangerous pathways back to Creation for Tar Vash’eth, the Avashai began to carve out their own realm in the northern steppes. Led by the grim Prince Yrdin, these Avashai quickly set about enslaving the few unfortunate souls that happened to be residing in the area upon their arrival. Humans and Alari were the slaves of choice for the newcomers. Avashai quickly learned that Slaagi were more trouble than their worth; even if one could eventually be subdued, their diseases killed captor and fellow slave alike. Prince Yrdin ordered the construction of his spired city of Mor’eth by these slaves, while his riders spread terror and despair in neighboring lands. While not as imposing physically to the other races of Creation, the Avashai possessed formidable skill with magic. Yrdin’s forces did not hesitate to use their most destructive spells to make an example out of those that dared resist.
In Yrdin’s kingdom, the ley-lines that helped separate Creation from other worlds had become weakened, allowing the Obscuring Mists to partially “leak” in. In mockery of Nyubar’s creation, Yrdin renamed the mists of his realm the Devouring Mists, and claimed dominion over all lands that they rolled over. The Devouring Mists proved to be a powerful deterrent for outside forces and few dared launch retaliatory attacks against Yrdin’s raiding parties. Amaranthine troops have managed to repel some attacks through the clever use of decoys or simply relying on fortifications, while local Slaagi warbands have been known to charge headlong into the Mists, never to return. Yrdin cannot take full credit for the Mist’s deadly reputation though; nightmare-beasts from Multor have been sighted in the region. Some are no more than mere Whisps and vengeful, but ultimately weak spirits. Yet others have been sighted by scouts from afar, their hulking frames poking just above the Mists. Yrdin’s personal guard have so far avoided the local “fauna,” but reports are coming in of Avashai raiding parties taking more casualties coming home, than they do riding out to war.
To the west of Yrdin’s lands rests a kingdom which, although technically allied with Yrdin, stands in stark contrast to the land of the Devouring Mists. Here sits the Kingdom of Arthendal, ruled by The Sword Prince Elduan Arathendalon. While Prince Yrdin seeks to evoke the terror and unsettling features of Tar Vash’eth, Prince Elduan hopes to import the wonder and beauty of their homeland. Elduan has managed to bring in all manner of strange plants from Tar Vash’eth, cultivating them into a forest of oddities. This forest surrounds Elduan’s capital city of Faelin Daraeth, which only further highlights the difference between his realm and that of Ydrin. Mo’reth is a mysterious city of shifting spires, the wailing of slaves, and grisly ends. Faelin Daraeth is one of the few places in Creation where other mortals can interact with the Avashai openly, although few outsiders venture to the strange kingdom for obvious reasons. Price Elduan welcomes those who appreciate learning and culture with open arms, yet to his bewilderment, outsiders keep their distance.
To Prince Elduan’s credit, his efforts to establish a place of learning have put him in direct competition with perhaps the greatest concentration of mortal knowledge and wisdom in all of Creation. For also nestled in the nearby mountains rests the eloquently named Holoptic Didarium. The Didarium was founded by the great polymath Mandas Lorenzada, better known as the “Dayseer”, the “Awakener”, or simply “Teacher.” The Didarium served as a place of great learning during her lifetime; studies of all manner occurred there. Mandas herself was an expert in a dozen fields and was especially known for her intense study of the floating stones that casted their shadows over the area. In her later years, Mandas saw the Holoptic Didarium expand from a meager tower packed with research materials and a few peers, into a full-blown campus. Although largely populated with students from neighboring lands eager to pass their knowledge on back home, many wise men, mages, students of science made the campus their permanent residence.
Following Mandas’s passing, the college formed a council of her most learned pupils, which in turn elected a new Overseer to serve as a custodian and manager for the Didarium. Having swollen in both the number of students and the local population supporting the college, the Overseers after Mandas have juggled the academic needs of the Didarium with the needs of what basically amounts to a city-state at this point. Local kingdoms have largely agreed that the Didarium is neutral ground, although many worry that its focus on the mysteries of life may get in the way of more practical matters. Didarium “forces” comprise of veteran mages and their attendants, which have so far proved adept at stopping the occasional warband from the north. Its learned minds have even proved effective at staving off the incursions of Sorna.
Ironically, the biggest threat to the Didarium’s independence comes from fellow learned minds.
Yptych, typically removed from the debates and discussions within the senate, has called repeatedly for negotiations with the Didarium for either its relocation to the Amaranthinium, or at least for it to become a client-state of the Republic. So far, the Didarium has managed to avoid giving an official answer to the distant superpower when Yptych’s proposals do manage to gain approval. Some in the Didarium argue that the Amaranthine Republic would offer near-infinite resources and security for its scholars, as well as a demigod for a benefactor. However, the majority of the campus feel uneasy about such proposals, and local powers are not eager to lose such a valuable hub of learning.
Further north, a winding path cuts through the northern pines. Along its edges, evidence of carnage and violence are strewn about. Skulls of all shapes and sizes line the path, cracks and puncture wounds warning observers that these were not mortals who simply had succumbed to the elements. No, a fierce guardian looks over this path, having been charged with this task centuries ago. It has not once erred, and has never failed to relish in the slaughter of those that would trespass against Fuku. Against his Tower of Exiles.
Following the repeated shakeups in the former Amaranthine Empire and its client-states, many mortals decided to follow in Fuku’s footsteps and retreat to a safe plane of existence. Inspired by the success of the first migration, subsequent journeyers forgot that they didn’t have a god watching over them like the first wave. Less than half made it, with unfortunate souls being captured by giants, enslaved by Yrdin’s forces, or simply turning back due to harsh conditions. Those that reached the Tower of Exiles could enter a gateway to Fuku’s paradise, although the Tower’s Guardian kept a watchful eye over those who made the last leg of the journey. Those who gave the Guardian any cause for alarm would immediately be set upon by the gargantuan leopard. Travelers were told there were two key secrets to entering the Tower of Exiles.
Do not look guilty. Do not look appetizing.
Fuku’s realm within the Tower is one of gentle, rolling plains and shimmering rivers. Its population has boomed, with mortals living in relative comfort and safety. Fuku’s insistence on a republican form of government at its inception had caused some confusion and skepticism, but since the Amaranthine Republic’s switch in governance, Fuku has been hailed as being ahead of Statute all along. Still, the Republic of Exiles has struggled with forming a coherent system of governance; most decisions are simply made locally through popular vote, with the occasional representative being sent to other communities to settle disputes.
While the population has grown steadily due to nearly perfect farming conditions, Fuku’s followers have found the process of gathering other natural resources rather difficult. To this end, citizens occasionally venture into the outside world as merchants, trading for goods that cannot typically found within the Tower of Exiles. This has led to a somewhat stable relationship with usually warlike northern giant chiefdoms; the Exiles bring surplus food to them during lean times, and the giants transport large quantities of stone and timber to the Tower. Whether these trade ties can be relied upon remains to be seen. More radical Exiles believe the Republic must truly be independent from the old powers of Creation and establish colonies there to obtain resources. The burgeoning merchant class has opposed this ideal fervently, claiming that ongoing trade will allow the Exiles to focus on governing their idyllic world.
In recent years, the number of travelers seeking protection in the Tower of Exiles has dwindled. While the Republic of Exiles has largely made peace with the giants to the north, southern realms have begrudged the Republic’s tendency to lead peasants astray. These kingdoms saw a slow but steady bleed of human subjects fleeing to Fuku’s realm whenever possible. Human subjects continue to flee to this day, but increasingly they choose a new destination. The Kingdom of Giantfell has carved out a safe haven in the Mistshroud Valley, and shows no signs of budging.
House Giantsbane created the kingdom after its progenitor, Gravis Giantsbane, slew the tyrant Chief Fimwhyre the Tall and forced Fimwhyre’s clan to bow before Gravis. Alarmed at the humiliation of one of their peers at the hands of a mere man, other giant chiefs attempted to avenge Fimwhyre. These attacks quickly backfired, as Gravis used guile and cunning to turn these invasions into routs. These resounding successes caused more and more subjects to flock to Gravis’s banner. At the time of his death, Gravis Giantsbane had forced four giant clans either into submission, or evicted them from their lands. The descendants of Gravis formed the nobility of a new kingdom, while Fimwhyre’s clan would go on to become Clan Throneknelt. If the successors of Gravis can safeguard their wily ancestor’s gains remains to be seen. Although with a name like “Giantfell”, the kingdom has no shortage of enemies in the region.
In the southern jungles and savannas, a brief moment of what could almost be called peace swept over the land. Alari, human, and Slaagi groups had engaged in low-intensity, nonstop war as long as anyone could remember. Yet the cataclysmic events of recent decades had sapped the strength of most warring parties. To the Alari, the trespasses of mankind now seemed negligible once Onoqui and demons began to occupy their jungles. With this begrudging tolerance came some level of understanding and communication. Humans adopted local Alari practices of venerating nature and survival techniques, while some Alari adopted the tools and architecture of their former enemies. The city-state of Luavris stands out as the shining example of what can happen when the two cultures fuse; it not only boasts one of the only walled settlements in the region, but also a small number of mages, which are almost unheard of among the Alari. Shrines dedicated to Yagna and Dancer have been joined by those dedicated to Vash, and ironically, Nyubar as well. Many Alari have scoffed at this abomination, decrying it as the beginning of a path down decadence and heresy.
As time went on and local factions regained their strength, hostilities of course resumed. However, the focus of fighting had shifted from the Alari defending their territories from perceived incursions from other races, to hybrid tribes and confederations fighting among one another, while
also fighting against traditional Alari defending their jungle homes.
The Crown of the Alari has also reemerged, adding more friction to the realms of the south. Among the newly forged communities of Alari and humans, the Crown is rumored to bring great fortune and victory to those that can obtain it, and so they fight bitterly to secure it. It appears that in the isolated jungle communities, oral traditions have preserved a darker image of the Crown; those who wear it shall be brought to new heights, before plummeting to their doom. These tales are viewed with skepticism by outsiders, who think that perhaps they’re just meant to discourage competition for the Crown.
While the majority of their raiding has been focused northward at the abhorrently civilized Amaranthine Republic, smaller groups of Slaagi raiders still plague southern territories. Yagna’s decree that civilization in all forms must be wiped out has led them to strike out with greater intensity at any sedentary communities they can find. To support their booming population, Slaagi have stormed into river valleys and prime hunting lands, bringing them into direct competition with most established powers of the region. Ironically, this has led to some tribes putting up semi-permanent dwellings in their favorite hunting grounds or rallying points before massive raids. Once seen as an undeniable sign of civilization, some Slaagi now view these dwellings as a necessary evil, although some snarl and say the Slaagi are themselves being corrupted. The biggest argument for this claim is the odd Confederacy of Aravae, which has altogether settled down and begun forming permanent settlements. Neighboring Slaagi tribes have been at a loss for words, urging their brothers to abandon this decadence at once, lest they lose their souls and anger the Mother, Yagna. The Aravae Confederacy has largely ignored these warnings and used their growing numbers to continue expanding.
The Aravae Confederacy is a rare exception to the case though, and Slaagi are almost universally despised for their nonstop warfare and the plagues they bring with them. For this, they have earned a bitter enemy in Carasch, the Horned King. This towering figure leads bands of warriors and heroes known as the Wild Hunt against the incursions of the Slaagi, matching every bit of the intruders’ ferocity with their own. Carasch’s horned shadow has become the stuff of legend among the Slaagi; he is a manifestation of Dancer’s ferocity, a hunter of man and beast alike. Or perhaps he is a spirit from a bygone age, here to reap Slaagi whose ancestors transgressed in the past. Whatever the Slaagi think of Carasch, those under his protection are eternally grateful, offering food, weapons, and occasionally even children, so that they might join the Wild Hunt. Carasch himself claims divinity, owing his martial prowess and unusual form to the concentrated efforts of several Alari shaman to be reincarnated in one body. Few outside of the Wild Hunt acknowledge these claims, but the notion has slowly spread to a few communities.
Largely aloof from the fighting in the south, the various communes that have formed around Yagna’s Wellspring and her insidious rot-trees have continued their oftentimes futile mission of spreading the faith. While Slaagi migrations have largely avoided the wellspring communes, plagues sweep through the land regularly, causing those without access to the Wellspring’s waters to suffer horribly. Still, Yagna’s adherents cling to the Wellspring and drink deep from the font, sustaining themselves so long as they do not drift too far away. Some particularly desperate communities have dabbled in blood magic to try and rid themselves of the plagues without having to constantly drink from the Wellspring. To the relief of many but the horror for many more, these experiments have proven disturbingly effective. When mixed with the blood of mortals, the Wellspring waters have their restorative effects multiplied tenfold.
At this revelation, a gruesome wave of violence swept the river valley as sacrifices were found, one way or another. Some willingly gave up their lifeblood, believing their spirits would find eternal bliss by mixing with the waters of Yagna. Others were less optimistic, and mobs soon formed to “volunteer” sacrifices for their communities. Entire villages were sacrificed by the inhabitants of neighboring cities, and some mobs clashed with one another when sacrifices became scarce. When the dust had settled, cities and towns were abandoned, and the countryside decimated by the infighting. Communities of Yagna’s followers had either been destroyed or forcibly merged into one unified entity, simply referred to as the Wellspring’s Chosen. Seeing the chaos and destruction caused by the blood sacrifices, the Chosen have created a strict code and hierarchy in order to administer the Wellspring’s waters and ensure anarchy does not reign in their holy land. The Wellspring’s Chosen now await Yagna’s guidance, although the rest of the world has to wonder; how can a goddess not simply turn her back on such foul practices?
Just going to reread first.
