PureNES: Epoch of Glory

[Insane_Panda]

Robert Clivesdale, Esq.​

Robert adjusted his coat. Arranged on the desk before him, in his small cabin, were several diplomatic papers for the mission ahead. Some were procedural, others were letters to various nobility of the Khaganate expressing messages of friendship from Jathalland. From his inside pocket, he drew a pen, and signed each:

Robert Clivesdale, Esq., HIGH COMMISSIONER AND SENIOR PLENIPOTENTIARY OF THE ORIENTAL MISSION​

Having done this, he arranged all of the papers, stacking and shuffling them neatly, and placed them inside one of his pockets. He took out his pocket watch - it was noon. They were expecting to reach Karakao in a few hours, so he decided that he should go on deck. The Boat, the HMS Dauntless, was small, but as its name suggested, was also quite formidable. One of the Fleet's new Armoured Cruisers, it was chosen specifically for the mission as a representation of the power of the Confederate Kingdom. The Dauntless was traveling with five other ships - all modern and armed, mostly smaller gunboats - and combined with around 50 members of the diplomatic corps., it constituted the Oriental Mission, primarily concerned with the establishment of "friendly" relations with the Khan of the east, as well as to secure a route to Karai in the longer term. The mission was of a particular importance due to the fact that no other viable routes existed to access the riches of the far east, save those dominated by other powers. Jathalland was not going to allow itself to be at the mercy of other nations. This route, however, presented a few problems of its own - namely in the form of the Cyrusicans. Their burgeoning, brooding, Slavic sort of Empire wished also to extend its influence, and claim as its own the wealth of Karai. A "Great Game" of sorts began, and thus, Robert Clivesdale, Esq., was sent east.

---​

Robert Clivesdale was born in a country estate, near the city of Elsten. He was born to Sir Edward Clivesdale, and his wife Clementine. A member of the new, bourgeois aristocracy, his childhood was both uneventful and pampered, spent largely in a boarding school uniform, with occasional visits to the family on holidays. The raising of children, it was deemed, was much better left to the professionals, who would, both figuratively and literally, beat into them a sense of discipline, and restraint - true Arthurian values. However, Robert was born naturally with these qualities, and being a quiet, well mannered boy, was spared some of the harsher punishments of his peers. His education, much like the rest of his early life, was uneventful, and he moved through the formalities with effieciency, doing always what was required of him, yet never striving to do more. By the end of it, he had become a lanky, educated, able, but less than ambitious young man. He was, in essence, the perfect gentleman, only doing things of note to add flavor to his dinner conversations, and never striving for any duties which required true discipline.

It seemed perfect, then, that a man of his character, of his demeanor, should take a position in the diplomatic corps. His family, though not as purple blooded as some, held enough connections to ensure their progeny a prestigious, if lackluster post in the Foriegn Office, along State Street, amongst the whitewashed, Neo-Principean buildings of government. In the Foriegn Office, Clivesdale excelled - not neccessarily due to any precocity, of which he had none, but rather for his general well mannered ness - as a diplomatic middle manager. Initially working as a beaurocratic agent, primarily focused on the administrative aspects of diplomacy, he went on to take mid level ambassadorial duties, primarily in the prestigious and well mannered embassies throughout Arios - it was his own Grand Tour, and like many of his generation of les nouveaux riches, he could be called a professional tourist. By this time, his dinner conversations were quite pleasent, if not wholly unique.

It was a suprise then, that he should be requested for a mission to the cold, hinterlands of the east. A mission deemed to be of "irregular importance" by his order papers, and he wondered why he, of all people, was requested for this duty. It prided him then, thinking perhaps his performances for the government had been recognized as requiring reward. Unfortunately, in truth, no other diplomats could be found to accept the mission. It was thought important by the government, yes, but to convince the higher level members of the priveledged diplomatic corps. that it was a duty to travel east, without modern conveniences of luxury, in cramped steamships, was rather difficult. There was also the fact that the corps., as a whole, had been rather over-extended, with a crisis growing in Thule, and the usual troubles with Mettlingen growing larger as rumours of their involvement in the chaos grew louder. Diplomats, being a lazy sort, did not help this overextension.

Robert Clivesdale, however, knew nothing of this - and naively, perhaps mistakenly, he accepted his position as High Commissioner and Senior Plenipotentiary of the Oriental Mission, with a staff of around 50 aides.

---​

As they travelled Northeast, the weather had gotten exponentially colder. What once required a simple frock-coat and hat now extended to a frock coat, overcoat, and gloves. And even then, one still was chilled to the bones. Robert Clivesdale began to doubt the wisdom of his decision. Such doubts only increased as he stepped on the upper deck, having huffed and puffed his way through the cramped and humid stairways of the lower decks. Warships, especially modern warships, did not afford much to luxury.

Composing himself, he tapped his cane along the wooden floor, and began walking through the frigid, windy air. He first turned to the sky, breathing in deeply, and spotting a few seagulls flying around the masts of the ship. The sky was, and had been for the past weeks, a pasty gray. There was no sun, but nevertheless, things were bright and clear, albiet cool. The smokestacks bellowed a dirty grey column of steam and smoke behind them, and constantly, the loud chug-a-chug-chug of the engines could be heard. Looking out the sea, he saw a faint trace of coast along the horizon, and what appeared to be several, foreboding mountains. He stared at this dark mass for a few seconds, transfixed by a sense of wonder, but he was interrupted.

"Good Morn'n, sah!"

It was the Captain, a man known simply as Cap'n. Unusually boisterous and ill-disciplined for a Royal Navy officer (especially one in charge of a warship such as the Dauntless), he offered something in the way of comic relief for Robert Clivesdale, though also frequent frustration in his less than procedural manner of accomplishing things. He was rather short statured, but stocky, and his tan, leathery face was adorned with a bristly set of white muttonchops and moustache.

"Good Morning, Captain. I hear we are to reach Karakao within a few hours time?"

"Indeed, sah. It would be less, too, if it wasn't for your flighty friends back in Arthuria. Somesuch t'ing ab't icebahgs." he chewed on his tobacco "A bunch of nonsense, if you ask me. Steam full speed ahead, and blow anythn' out of the wahtah that gets in the way!"

Clivesdale chuckled. "Perhaps, Captain, it was best that you listened to our friends in Arthuria."

"Bah! Iow listen' awright after I blow these yellah bellied mongrels into the sea!" And with that, he turned away, walking back up the superstructure onto the bridge.

Robert Clivesdale was left back to his musing, and with that, he stared oncemore into the expanse infront of him.

What was to become of Robert Clivesdale, Esq. - far from home, far from priveledge, on a mission for the crown? This question disturbed him somewhat, and as his fashion, he neatly organized the thought, and put it in the back of his mind.

No, he declared, I must not think that way.

 

[Insane_Panda]

NEWSREEL I
ALL THE NEWS THATS FIT TO PRINT

LARGEST NAVAL EXPANSION IN RECENT HISTORY HAS BEGUN, SAYS ADMIRALTY

"The Jathalland Empire must ensure a state of perpetual dominion on the seas. It is our blessed duty and purpose to open the lines of marine commerce to all, and to safeguard our interests above all else." Declared Admiral Greensborough, head of the Admiralty, signing orders to lay down 5 new, Devastation-class, Battleships. "Through Iron and steam we must govern the seas!" Further announced was the construction of an additional 10 steel, Dauntless cruisers, to be fully completed in a period of 5 years.

Rule, Arthuria! Arthuria, rule the waves!
Arthurans never, never, never will be slaves!
Rule, Arthuria! Arthuria, rule the waves!
Arthurans never, never, never will be slaves!

IRON TARRIFF PASSED. WALLSTONE DECLARES A VICTORY FOR "THE INDUSTRIAL MIGHT OF ARTHURIA"

We must do all we can to secure the interests of Industry, for the interests of Industry are the interests of our people. We cannot allow foriegn competition to destroy our markets, and we must protect and nurture our commerce. This law will maintain the delicate balances of capital and labour, allowing us further growth in the face of the recent economic boom. We must not allow ourselves to succumb to the naivety of free trade! From protection blooms prosperity, and if prosperity is the goal of this government, then the means of action must and will be the instrument of industrial protection!

CIVIL WAR CONTINUES ON THULE. METTELINGEN SUBVERSION SUSPECTED TO BE HELPING THE CHAOS

Mettelingen forces are believed to be supporting anti-Jathalland forces on Thule. Modern weaponry found amongst captured raiding parties fuels suspicious. At this time, however, no real proof can be found. Civil war amongst the petty states, however, grows alongside an increase in border incidents and Thulean raids. Colonial governors beg for the authority to intervene and ensure the security of their territory. Angered populace left shaking fists at percieved Mettelingen subversion, and a few merchants have been lynched.

MISSION SENT EAST TO FIND ROUTE TO KARAI

Recently, a diplomatic mission has been sent to the Eastern Khaganate, of which very little is known. Headed by Robert Clivesdale, Esq., a diplomat of moderate reknown and former administrative official for State Street, the mission's purported goals lie in the establishment of "friendly relations with the Khans of the East in order to lay a groundwork for mutual co-operation on issues of key importance". Cyrusican ambassador declares this mission an "infringement on our sovereign influences!" but is shunned by most everyone.

​

​

 

[alex994]

OOC: You know, I do believe we were supposed to edit it in with our first post instead of TRIPLE-POSTING But oh well

 

[jalapeno_dude]

Taking the Two Brothers, Jacob and Esau--the two scions of the Doria line, an old Torenzi merchant family that has fallen upon hard times.

Not sure if you want me to write a culture paragraph, but I would appreciate some information about Torenze.

Prelude​

Isaac Doria was dead.

It took the old fool long enough to die, Jacob Doria mused the day after the funeral. It had been the typical funeral of a Torenzi merchant, with exaggerated mourning, tearful women, and elaborate festivities. Too elaborate, Jacob thought, considering that he had to waste his money on it.

Or what should have been his money, but for his brother. His stupid, idealistic brother. Everyone knew that Jacob was better at business, but Esau Doria had the good luck of being born a few instants earlier than his twin.

Not that he wants the business. Esau despised business, preferring instead to read his inane philosophy and spend hours debating the finer points of morality with other good-for-nothing merchant princes like himself. As if morality had anything to do with success. In the meantime, it was left to Jacob, and many of the other younger sons like him, to actually learn the business.

Perhaps I can turn the situation to my advantage. But it would not do to talk business this soon after a death. Alas, tradition still held sway over the weak-minded of the household. The mourning period seemed to drag on for an eternity.

Sitting down at his ornate desk, usually piled high with dispatches from the many ships in the Doria fleet, but now nearly empty, as were the Doria family coffers, Jacob picked up a small book. Antonio had sent it to him. He said it actually contained useful information, without any of the self-serving nonsense of morality to contaminate it.

Picking up The Prince, by Niccolò Machiavelli [1], Jacob Doria began to read.

----------------------------------------------------​

Isaac Doria was dead.

Father, how can I ever survive without you?, Esau Doria thought tearfully. After the shock of his father's death, cut down while still young, the funeral had passed in a blur. I will never have enough time to grieve.

Of course, Jacob would handle it somehow. He always did, managing to remain grounded in the day-to-day details of the business. Jacob should have been Father's heir, Esau thought. I should have been the younger son, so that I had freedom to pursue my studies.

It was a mystery to him how Jacob managed to focus on the trivialities of business. How could he narrow his attention, when there was so much of the world crying out to be explored, so many new things to learn?

I must speak to him, urge him not to forsake the family. But there would be time enough for that. The mourning period, in all its comforting tradition, would pass in a flash, and soon Esau would have to face the world.

Sitting down at his simple desk, as always piled high with scholarly tomes, pamphlets, and stacks of notebooks full of scribbled thoughts, Esau picked up a small book. Francesco had sent it to him. He said it was different then all the tired political commentary, offering a vison of a bright future in which all the problems of man could be solved and all could live together in harmony and morality.

Picking up Utopia, by Thomas More [1], Esau Doria began to read.

----------------------------------------------------​

[1] Yes, I know. But I'm trying to get a point across. If NK or Thlayli will provide me with appropriate ATL equivalents, I'll use those instead.

 

[Thlayli]

@jalapeno: I'm going to sleep now. Request will be handled in the morning. No culture needed, though.

The Confederate Kingdoms of Jathalland
Ruler/Player: Insane_Panda

Government: Several hundred years of internal strife and external expansion have developed a complex bicameral Parliamentary Monarchy, with an established colonial apparatus. The "Confederate Kingdoms" are Athuria and Jekever, each with a separate Royal Parliament that has little power. The "Confederate Princedoms" of Thule are also puppets to the will of Elsten, long since conquered in the northern wars. The remainder of Thule is under military occupation, or too violent and/or sparsely populated to control. The Vice-Royalty in Alhaven is semi-autonomous, but typically follows directives from the capital.

Technology: Jathalland is a member of a select few nations on the cutting edge of the technology curve. Industrialization has flourished throughout the nation, with steel, coal, and steam fueling rapid urbanization and economic expansion. Along with Taenevix, Gosica, Mettlingen, and Princeps, production has begun on the coveted airships, which will hopefully be valuable for trade and defense alike. Railroads also present a lucrative new option to secure the riches of the East...if a route through Karai can be found.

Culture: The Confederate Kingdoms of Jathalland is a union between the states of Athuria and Jekever. Centuries ago, these people defeated Thulean pirates and raiders from across the seas, and in doing so, forged the beginnings of a colonial empire which would span the known world. Unified, hardworking, and with an industrial might unparalleled, the Confederate Kingdoms merely bides its time, ever expanding its fleets and sending them across the globe, preparing to secure hegemony.

Economy: Thanks to the industrialization of the Golden Age of Steam Power, Jathalland has breached the gates of the modern era. Replaceable parts and assembly-line technology are being rapidly established, even as trade routes with Hadir and Karai bring imports and exports to an all-time high. The Confederate Kingdoms still contain vast untamed (and sometimes unexplored) regions in Horizon's End, Thule, and Alhaven, with a great variety of natural resources to be tapped.

Military: The navy of the Confederate Kingdoms is, without par, the finest in the world. Roughly 800 ships (and supposedly 1,000 in wartime) are organized into seven fleets, which patrol and explore the world's oceans. A vast number of transport and support ships are also involved. Though 500 are wooden, including older frigates, ships of the line and clippers, there are a wide variety of steam powered steel ships as well. Though the majority are ironclads, using torpedoes, turrets, and broadsides to great effect, more efficient long-range cannons and ship designs have produced a small number of what could be called pre-dreadnoughts. The Confederate Armies, though less prestigious, number 100,000 in peace time. For the most part veteran garrison troops, they are supplemented by Marine companies landed in times of strife or uprising. Overall, morale and training are at a professional level.

Infrastructure: Very well developed. An effective railroad system on land is being supplemented by an efficient naval transport mechanism. In addition, a growing underwater telegraph communication system and a planned fleet of future airships could reduce one of Jathalland's greatest challenges: Its size.

History:

Spoiler :

The fertile, coastal forests of southern Jathal were first settled by the Kedricans, ancestors of the Athurians, Gotts, and several other ancient western Arion peoples. The feudal city-states of the area were slowly united, into the Kingdom of Athuria. Despite invasions from across the sea, which established the Kingdom of Jekever, it was later subdued and incorporated into the Confederate Kingdoms. Sick and tired of periodic invasions from Thule, a massive expeditionary force crushed the petty kingdoms of their southern coast, establishing the foundations for a vast colonial empire that would cover half of Thule and spread across Horizon's Arc towards Alhaven. Despite periodic dynastic struggles, colonial wars with Mettlingen, revolutions, and rebellions, the sheer industrial might of Jathalland has only begun to show. And the riches of Karai are waiting to be unlocked...

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Do you want me to repost my stories?

 

[jalapeno_dude]

Do you want me to repost my stories?

This is the obligatory post for the sake of Silver Steak (links in sig). If people would be so kind as to transfer their stories over, many thanks to them. If not, then I suppose we can dig them up later.

I'd assume so.

 

[tuxedohamm]

Story and culture edited in to first post as the spirits desired.

 

[Azale]

Holy Empire of Kantic Halidom in da house

Culture: The state Protecter of the (Seraphian) Faith in essence, the Halidom has forged Empire and dominated Arios for over five centuries until recent defeats that forced several territorial concessions. The caste-like system is composed of four levels (minorities on the red list, the poor, the clergy, the nobles) in a system that often sees the struggle between the clergy and the various noble families for power. Ascencion from a lower level is near impossible at this juncture unless you join the military, but the lower class remain an important backbone as a hardy, deeply religious (and some would say, backwards and illiterate) pool of people from which the clergy and nobles can exploit. Seraphianism is the state religion, others are tolerated but those who practice them see little chance for opportunity in the Halidom and are restricted to the 3rd caste at best.


Culture...so violent and bleak. Yippee!

 

[Cuivienen]

New Telerian Empire

Spoiler Description :

Once a great empire dominating nearly all of the known world, Old Teleria was nearly destroyed in a series of calamities. New Teleria, however, possesses all the pride of a dominant nation, and much of the power. Though they lag behind some fo their neighbors in technology, their naval might is unrivaled, and they remain one of the primary nexuses of cultural achievements cradle-wide. The nation is ruled by an Emperor who chooses his successor upon his ascension to the throne, but the Emperor's powers are checked substantially by the Captains' Council, where the various lords and major ship-captains of the empire meet to "advise" the Emperor. The Telerians worship the goddess Celia, originally a sea goddess but now considered a generic supreme deity.

Spoiler First story :

“Faugh! Liassan pirate scum!”

Heron, captain of the Unbreakable stood at the prow of his ship and snarled. The Liassans had grown bolder of late. The government claimed it was all brigands and that they were doing their best to stop rogue steamships from harassing Telerian traders. That was all Heron needed to hear to know the Archon of Liassa was behind the recent plague of mechanical piracy in the southern seas.

True, he had no real basis for this assumption. Liassa and Teleria had enjoyed quite prosperous trade relations for some time now, and a decision had recently been reached to divide the Mournful Coasts between them. Yet Heron always found someone to blame for his troubles, and the Liassans had been the target of his rage for some time now, even since the loss of an entire cargo of spices off the coast of Hadato to a jury-rigged steamship bearing Liassan markings.

Some might call it an issue of faith. The disastrous events that had closed the first chapter of Telerian history were imprinted in the minds of every Imperial man, and the notion of steam power often brought back too many harsh memories. Heron distrusted it, even feared it, for even Celia herself had not been able to save Telerius from fire and smoke centuries ago. He was among a small minority in captains who saw shades of the Doom in Liassan technology, but a vocal minority, and one that opposed all scientific innovation.


“The utter fool!”

On the other side of the Hertheo Chain, a collection of small islands forming the southernmost reaches of Teleria before the seas gave way to Liassa, Captain Jerad of the Singing Wind guffawed at Heron’s superstition. The Singing Wind was, of course, the “Liassan steamship” that had chased the Unbreakable all the way down the Girdle of Pearls. Heron certainly deserved such humiliation for continuous anti-Liassan rants at the biannual Gathering of Ships at Telerius, and who better to give it than the Emperor’s favorite on the Captains’ Council?

Jerad himself was an inventor as much as a captain, and he had paid good money to a bankrupt Liassan merchant in Hossia to simply see the internal workings of his steamship. Much impressed, Jerad set out to construct a similar contraption of his own. The Singing Wind was neither so fast nor so powerful as any of the Liassan steamships, and it made a din more than a song when the engine was put to work, but it functioned, and that was what would make Jerad even more favored in the Emperor’s eyes. The might of Teleria was ever-increasing despite the idiocy of a few. Jerad smirked at that.

Spoiler Second story :

Despite a disastrous first performance, most among the Captains and the Lords who have seen it agree that Ferriane’s most recent musical play, The Enchanted Cloak, is most wondrous entertainment of the highest sort. Ferriane had initially seemed in poor grace after The Enchanted Cloak opened to a series of mishaps in the High Fortune Theatre, but his spirits must have been greatly roused after receiving a standing ovation from Kiano Lianalla, no one less than the Captain of His Imperial Majesty’s flagship, and also the Lord Heröo, leader of the seventh Expedition to the Mournful Coasts.

The well-known and well-loved singer Jiola played the part of the lead, Lord Hulian. The well-known tale of a Berian lord driven to poverty and theft by a rapacious Alqazari moneylender and aided in his efforts by an enchanted cloak of invisibility was brought to life by Jiola’s beautiful voice. Jiola was able to achieve both the deep notes of sorrow and the high, almost crazed notes of Lord Hulian’s corruption by the cloak into a man of evil. He fit perfectly into the part crafted by Ferriane.

Ferriane Bonnal, now a lord in his own right by declaration of the Emperor following the debut of his last loved musical play, presents the tale in a new light, as described above. Rather than show Lord Hulian as the noble man robbed of all he holds dear and now desperately clinging to the titular enchanted cloak as a means to his salvation, Ferriane suggests the corruption of the human soul with his new production, inviting contemplation on the philosophical level. Is man so easily corrupted by things of great power? The retelling of the ancient story of Lord Hulian would seem to suggest that all should be aware of the treachery of enchanted cloaks, not their merits.

Suffice to say that Ferriane has once again awed all noble persons of Teleria with his work. The Emperor himself has requested a showing at the palace in the week to come, and his disapproval could still quash the play, but we will boldly state that the Emperor will undoubtedly be more than pleased by Ferriane’s latest efforts.

Spoiler Flag :

A dark red eagle (the symbol of Teleria) on a sea green field

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Now begin the long tales of the captain and crew of the SS Silver Ray.

*****

Captain Robert Van der Zruyk

Steam Ship: Silver Ray
Launched: 1481
Home Port: Baas
Crew: Eight
Captain: Robert Van der Zruyk
Dimensi-

And so read the exposed top of one paper, piled on a messy desk, inside of a slightly dilapidated ship. Several navigational tools were used as paperweights.

On deck, Robert Van der Zruyk, a gaunt, dirty-blonde haired man, leaned against the rails, a pipe clenched in his mouth.

"Welcome to Callixtus... why you paid me to bring you to this dirty hole is beyond me." he announced in a sarcastic drawl, "I suppose when people are desperate enough to be using me to get out of the old country, they can't be too picky."

The people on the boat, holding their only belongings, departed off the ship without any response.

"They might as well be cargo, for all they talk." commented the man with a cigar to a passing crewman.

"They are Claidhe captain."

"Yeah, and Claidhe are supposed to be extroverts."

"They don't speak Metti. Not even Athurian."

"They'll have ta learn a real language some day."

Piet, the short, greying-haired man talking to the captain, rolled his eyes and started walking off to check the hold.

"Oh captain?"

"Yeah?"

"The Ale supply's gone low. Might want to buy some while we're in port. I've heard of some fine breweries here."

"I'm aware- it's the only reason Iany sane man should ever come to this rained-out country."

Piet resumed his climb down into the hold. In between two crates, two crewmen were sitting, playing cards on an upturned box to a dim oil light.

"Hey 'zeem." he said to a nondescript dark-skinned man, "We've got another few shipments that need to come aboard. I need some muscle."

"I can help too sir." piped up the youth playing cards across from him. A skinny Athurian boy with short brown hair, a well-worn cap, and a dirty smudged face from spending too much time shoveling coal.

"I said I needed muscle, Hawkesbury." Piet kept a straight face for a moment, then broke out chuckling. "Sure, come along too. Many hands make light work, and all that."

The three men climbed up onto deck to see several others moving crates on and off the Silver Ray. They quickly joined in on the effort.

On the pier, the captain was arguing with a heavyset local with a thick reddish beard.

"I don't care about a worker shortage- hell, I just brought a good half-dozen here, they can help that. I just want to know how you can justify charging so much for your goods- they were half the price last time I was here."

"Hey, hey I don't run the economy, they do." defended the bearded man in a thick accent, waving his hand in reference to politicians in general.

"I don't care about your reasons, no damn lawmaker says 'I'm going to make ol' MacTavish double his beer prices'.

"I'll give you four barrels for the price of three. And a half. And another... eh, quarter."

"I'll accept nothing less than five for the price of four and a half. Or six for the price of five and two thirds."

The bearded MacTavish got a confused look on his face as he attempted to work out the fractions.

"Oh, never mind. I'll buy eight for the price of six and a half."

"Ehm... eight for seven."

"I'll meet you at eight for six."

"No..." MacTavish clearly just wanted the numbers to go away, "Eight for six and a half."

"Deal. Here's your money, and here's my refund for two and a half. Eight minus six and-"

"Just give it to me!" shouted the exasperated Callixti.

"Fair's fair." Captain Van der Zruyk pressed several coins into the man's hand and walked off.

"But- but this is Mettlingen's currency!"

"Trade it in at a bank." advised the captain as he walked away, "It'll be worth more there- don't get me started about exchange rates."

Zruyk turned away for good, and walked up to several guffawing crewmembers.

"And that, students, is why you should know your math. Now, load these kegs before the man realizes that eight minus six and a half isn't two and a half."

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Steven Hawkesbury

The brown-haired youth grunted as he pushed another heavy crate up on top of the stack. The rhythmic pounding of the engine at the far end of the ship seemed to egg him on. With a great push, he raised the box over the top. It teetered for a moment, and Steven just managed to begin an Athurian curse before it fell over the far side. He raced around the pile to pick up the fallen goods, only to find Azim, bent in prayer over a small candlelit shrine. The dark-skinned man murmured something, and extinguished the candles with a smooth, sweeping gesture.

"You'd better raise the boxes son." commented Azim without turning his head, "Captain won't be happy finding you with damaged merchandise."

"Er, yes. Okay."

Steven stooped down and began lifting it. Azim joined and pushed the box into place.

"What were you doing there?"

The man gave Steven an indecipherable look.

"I'm not sure you'd understand... Steven."

"I'm not dumb. I am fifteen."

"Age isn't intelligence. You're Seraphist, aren't you?"

"I'm not really... anything. My friends told me that it was all a bunch of, well..."

"Yes?"

"Um, balderdash. All the astronomers say that the moons are just big rocks way up there. In the sky."

Azim gave his young compatriot a small smile.

"Maybe I'll tell you some other time."

With that, he rose up and walked out of sight beyond the boxes. Steven noticed a worn-looking book under a raised box, and pulled it out. He flipped it open, but couldn't read it. He was not even that great a reader (though he constantly promised himself that he'd go to a school and learn), but could tell that the script was not Athurian, or even Metti. It was something different.

"Azim!" he shouted.

"Yes?" answered the now-distant voice.

"Where are you from?"

There was a brief silence.

"Why are you so curious- more than usual."

"Your book looks odd."

Azim quickly returned.

"Which book?" he asked, with a vaguely sharp tone.

"Th-that one."

Azim's face softened when he saw it back where he had left it.

"Ah... what do you know of the Alquazar Caliphate?"

"Didn't they attack Arios?"

"Well, Arios did the same. I was born there, but haven't returned for years."

"I would like to go there someday. The reason I joined this ship was to see the world."

"We all come for different reasons. You've got a lot ahead of you son."

"What do you mean by that-"

A voice from above suddenly interrupted their conversation.

"Oy! 'zeem! Hawkesbury! Cap'n needs some decks scrubbed!"

"But we just cleaned them last week!"

"I know, but... you know, Claidhe feet have been on it since then. You know Zruyk."

Azim rolled his eyes and got up, followed by Steven.

"Coming!" shouted the youth.

The two waked over to the ladder and climbed up into the light.

 

[~Darkening~]

Ka-la'i-akea
description

Spoiler :

Kala'iakea, Ka-la'i-akea done properly in the native tongue, is a small island chain located off the core Beidan archipelagos. Kala'iakea, which simply means the Peace Islands, is known mainly for the small amounts of spices natives to the semi-isolated islands. The chain is composed of 3 core islands, seven minor islands, and dozens of sub-islands. The main island, Kanani, is home to the seat of the islands' government, the small city of Kane. Here the kamalili (the 'grand cheif') presides over his court. The other two core islands, Kapuni to the east of Kanani, and Kawailani to the west, are ruled by either brothers of the kamalili or other relatives. The islands are ruled in a feudal system, with each small village on any given island having an appointed leader. From here, different sections of the island are placed under the command of several men (Kanani is divided into thirteen subsections), which are then placed under the island leader, of the al'ili. Every island has their own al'ili, all of which have taken oaths to serve the kamalili on Kanani. The people (simply known as Kame) are as diverse as you could expect them to be. Most of the inhabitants make their living upon the seas, such as fishing, guides, sailors, and dispatchers. A slightly smaller percentage of the people make their living from farming, either by growing food crops or the much harder to raise spices. In particular, the black peppers of Kanani are known in the eastern region for their flare, and the plants are grown quite numerously on the island. Aside from the two mainstays, smaller percentages make thier livings from government work (the al'ilis, various 'law enforcements') or from crafts. The islands are known (by those who do know of them) for the many festivals held during the year. Even through most of the islands only celebrate selections of the groups, Kanani is known for experiencing them all. Among the more famous celebrations are the Ku'u-aloha (My Love), Ku'u-lani (My King), and the Ma-kai. Each festival, while not celebrated largely in the smaller villages of the kingdom, are celebrated with enormous (for Kame standards) festivities in Kane (the capital).

story

Spoiler :

The boy crouched low, peering through the thick underbrush. His hair had been hacked off, leaving only the slight stub of dark hair tied in a small tail. The sun flitted through the dense brush, fighting its way through the thronged vegetation to cast the various shadows on the ground. Peering through nearly slanted jade eyes, the boy held his breath as he crept closer to the closed branches. The two branches had dragged close to each other, forming a slight barrier to the small oasis that lay beyond their glance.

Beyond the two braches, obscured only slightly, stood a small clearing in which no tree stood. In the middle of this oval clearing, the large boar stood grazing on the limited shoots grown. It was obtuse in shape, around twice the normal girth of a standard boar. The boy stared, fixated on the creature as he slowly brought his spear up to his side. Inching forward ever-so-slightly, the boy slowly parted the branches and emerged behind the beast, creeping up slowly and managing to approach the beast’s rump. He rose fast, darting forward to pierce the stone head of his spear into the neck of the beast. The boar let out a loud, anguish cry that pierced the sky before charging off into the distance, spear still lodged in the flesh of the neck.

The boy chased after the animal, doing his best to keep up with the charging boar. For a short while, the cries of the beast grew fainter and fainter, until the time they ceased all together. Finally, the boy emerged through a thick picket of brush and came across the down animal, no longer even breathing. He pulled the spear out of the flesh, strapping it onto his back with the belts, and grabbed the two front hoofs of the boar. Heaving with a sense of drawn might, the boy slowly dragged the carcass through the forest, back to the village.

The mist slowly swirled around the peak of Pi‘i-lani, the jutting mountain sitting high above most of the island. Except for the peaks of Pali-kapu, to Pi’i-lani’s west, and Noe-lani, on Pi’i-lani’s east, the mountain was the highest on the large island. With the sun setting high above the peak of Pali-kapu, the Island Mists were light up as if on fire. The village of Momi-lani, the boy’s home, was situated on the coast in the shadow of Pali-kapu, just a short distance from where the boy was hunting. After slewing the beats, the boy managed to drag the carcass back to the small village in just a few hours.

“Kai!” A pitched voice called out, rushing towards the young boy. Maika‘I, the name of the young boy who owned the voice, eagerly ran up to the boy and assisted in dragging the beast to a small pitched hut. Made from a bamboo-like plant (O’lahue), the hut was circular in design and small in width, large enough to fit just a few people lying down. A large fire was burning in front of the hut, and an older couple stood around it chatting. One of the older pair, an older man with a sliced white beard, stood up and helped in bringing the boar to the pit.

“Well done Kai!” the man praised, rubbing his son’s shoulder as a sign of affection. “This is truly an excellent catch for tonight’s feast.’ He said, continuing to harp on the praise. With a little help from the men, the elder woman succeeded in carving the beast and setting it above the open flames.

“Thank you, Alaka‘I.” The boy said, his gazed lowered on the beast. The wind gently fluttered the boy’s black hair, causing the boy little distraction. Keli‘l, the boy’s father, stared at his son’s distraught face for a moment before silently walking over to his wife. He whispered a short something into the woman’s ear, before watching her nod in agreement. Just a second later, the woman drug the younger boy into the hut by his ear, leaving the father and son sitting outside the hut.

The pair sat on the log for a minute in silence, before the father broke the silence once more. “Is the Ku ‘u-aloha bothering you, my son?” He said quietly, digging his hands through the cloth lining one of the hut sides. The boy kept his eyes glued to the earth below, staring out of the corner of his eye at the older man. The man paused, clearing his throat, before continuing. “Kai, everyone takes part in a Ku ‘u-aloha ceremony- this night should be a cherished memory, not something to be afraid of.”

The boy finally looked p, into his father’s green eyes, and started to talk. “Alaka‘I,” the boy started, uttering the common name for ‘father’, “its not that I’m afraid of the ceremony…..It’s just that I don’t think I could be comfortable after it.” The boy struggled for words.

The father gave a slight laugh, chuckling at his son’s discomfort. “I’m sure you won’t have any problems after the ceremony.” The father said with a mischievous smile. “Anyways, I know as well as you do that this is more than you wanted. ‘Aliana will make a great wife.” A loud drum beat echoed through the village, a fast, rhythmical beat rumbling. The man stood up, smiling, and entered the hut. The boy was left outside the hut, staring in the fire.

X.x.X

The scene had moved from the small hut to a much larger tent set up against the ocean waves. The tent had been drawn from the hides of dozens of animals and had been stretched tightly across the wood frame, providing a barrier against the rain falling outside. Except for a small hole in the top of the tent, the area was closed off on top. Rain hit the rough sheets and cascaded down the tent, collecting on the ground surrounding the area. A deep trench had been dug around the circular tent, providing for an outlet for the rainwater.

Within the oval boundary, the Ku‘u-aloha festival raged. Against the outside of the circle five drummers played a fast rhythm, adding to the overall experience. Along with the drummers, three young women played fast melodies on their reed flutes. A giant bonfire raged in the middle of the tent, casting shadows off the dancing inhabitants. The majority of the village rested on the rest of the fringe of the circle, mostly the old and young perched watching the show. The younger members of the village, some twenty or thirty people, danced in a large circle around the bonfire. Gesturing to the sky, the earth, the sea, and the mountains, the dancers moved rhythmically and gave their worship to the four gods. Perched on the right side of the fire, situated in a simple ta‘ovala, Kai sat rigidity still.

On the left side of the fire, illuminated in a fiery light and wearing a matching ta‘ovala, sat ‘Aliana. The girl appeared to be as old as Kai, seeing around sixteen winters, and having a large assemble of tropical feathers woven into her hair. She possessed a stoic trance on her face, a mixed look of slight joy and disappointment. Her sapphire eyes struggled under the weigh, and her light face stumbled in the firelight.

Finally, after the dance had commenced for some time, an old woman broke it up and made her way in front of the young couple. With pure white hair, and aged skin, the woman was the oldest in the community and reserved a level of respect common only to ali‘i. Mili-lani, the elder woman, began her rites as she blessed the young couple. After commencing as such for around ten minutes, Mili-lani finished her short rite and brought two small wooden plates forward. Finally, as a cementation of their new relationship, the young couple ate their first meal together.



I know, such a sucky story makes me deserve to burn forever. Just to make this clear, I'm not starting in the cradle.

 

[Nylan]

Confirming Gosica

Culture:

Gosica is a unique mix of two different, yet equally warlike cultures: The coastal Guipikans and the city dwelling, hardy Gotts. Together these two cultures have forged a history and a culture of military excellence and honor. They are a very proud people, and yet are meek, not taking too much to personal boasting or glorification. The average Gosican is the perfect model of the hardy, law abiding citizen that most militaries are sworn to protect. Ever progressive, they look to the future and a chance to burn Gosica into the annals of history for future generations to revere.

My rushed claim story:

Spoiler :

Pelathir, Callixtus


“Ah, Pelathir, city of jewels. A beautiful hilltop gemstone, glittering in the sun. Perhaps one of the most beautiful settlements in all of Arios. Breathtaking…absolutely breathtaking. Commander!”

“Yes, M’Lord?”

“Burn it to the ground!”

“The Gosican army was more than capable of that. After joining the war on the side of the Princepii, they had ripped through the Callixtii countryside, smashing through their defenses virtually unopposed. If Sir Robert the Odd had been right in his thesis of inertia, then the incredible momentum this early success had created would rout the Callixtii from their own capital and strike a decisive blow against the hated Claidheans, perhaps even secure victory. Things were going very, very well.

Despite the momentum, the Callixtii were still putting up a valiant defense. It had taken two days of bloody fighting to breach the outer walls. Smoke rose from the interior as troops fought street to street, house to house. Pelathir was determined to go down fighting, and fighting hard.

As the first wave of blue had swept over the plains and towards the gates, they had stood their ground. There was not a large amount of men inside the city, and they were totally unprepared for a major engagement. That they had held out this long was a testament to their fierce determination and their heritage. Gosican troops stretched as far as the eye could see, and they had stood defiant.

But that resistance did not last forever. Now that the outer defenses had been breached and fighting had turned to the streets, it was only a matter of time before it was in Gosican hands. A bloody struggle it would be though. The Gosican army paid in blood for every street corner, every house, every shop they took. If there were ever a time when the momentum might hit a wall and stop, it would be now. Flames bursted around every corner, case shot flew in most every direction. Guerilla warfare is a terrible thing, a dishonorable horror, and the Callixtii took to it like a cat, clutching the ground in its last throes of life.

I was there, among those men. My division was ordered to take the poor quarter at any cost. Walking into those slums was like walking into a nest of angry swordflies. The Callixtii had hidden themselves in the buildings, taking cover where they could and waiting in ambush. I nearly walked into one myself, and I would have been blown to bits had not another man pushed me out of the way and under an overturned cart. I looked around to thank him later, but he, along with most of the men involved in that conflict, was dead in the streets.

I arose and tried to connect with the main force, as I realized I would not survive on my own. As I progressed through the city, scared to death, I searched over my shoulder constantly, in alleys, and in windows. There was no telling where the devils might be next. I ran into another group of survivors from an ambush at the dock, where they had been attacked from underneath the wharf. Together we tried our best to get out of the poor quarter, making our way towards a bridge; the river divided the poor quarter from the marketplace and other quarters. We were almost at the north bridge when again they fell upon us. We took cover in an old woman’s home. She was petrified, but was no danger to us. Unfortunately, the house was not very well built, and they had us surrounded. We were sure we would not survive.

Suddenly, we heard gunshots outside the house. None of them were directed at ourselves, so we wondered if perhaps a division had come to rescue us. To our surprise, it a group of common folk of the poor quarter, armed and angry. They routed the enemy troops and forced them into the river. We later learned that these people were Gottic rebels, who embraced our liberation of their lands from the hated Claidheans. I owe them my life and my freedom.”

“Wow, Daddy, that’s amazing!” The little boy jumped up and down and clapped his hands enthusiastically, his brown hair being tossed about as he did so. He loved his father’s war stories, and wanted to be just like him when he grew up, defending the Great Gosican Kingdom from enemies, rescuing damsels in distress, and all sorts of heroism. His father was very proud of the young boy.

His brother, on the other hand, was a different matter. “Father, why did the Gosican army participate in guerilla fighting?” He was an inquisitive boy, always challenging the norm, but also willing to learn if only given the chance.

The father leaned over in his chair and looked him in the eye, trying to find some sort of mockery in his question. “You see, Dorrin,” He said, “The Callixtii resorted to guerilla war in order to defeat us, because they knew they could not do so otherwise. It is a low, dishonorable, vile form of combat, and yes, it should be avoided at all cost. However, we realized that in order to secure victory and the safety of the Gottic and Guipikan peoples, sacrifices had to be made. I can assure you, had the Callixtii wanted an open battle on the plains of Pelathir, we would have been more than happy to give them a beating to remember.

What’s important is that we have won the war, and now Gosica is becoming a great nation in the eyes of Arios. Gosica and Princeps are in a mighty alliance, one that must be dealt with carefully. We have ensured our freedom from the Buridisian, Callixtii, and Kantic tyrants, and are entering a golden age of peace and prosperity. This truly is a happily ever after.”

But will it remain happily ever after? This remains to be seen. In any case, a new age has begun for the Kingdom of Gosica, one that shall change it…forever.

 

[Thlayli]

Great. I'll have all the updated templates for PC's done tonight. We're still looking for great powers, especially Princeps, Taenevix, the Caliphate, Suzira, Naia, the Telcari, and the Jin Bo...so take a good look.

 

[Nylan]

IIRC LittleBoots was going to claim Taenevix...I could be wrong. Unless of course you just mean confirmations. I'm half tempted to switch nations, but I don't really have any particular prefrence and it took long enough to pick Gosica...so maybe I'll jump in if the situation becomes desperate.

 

[Thlayli]

IIRC LittleBoots was going to claim Taenevix...I could be wrong. Unless of course you just mean confirmations. I'm half tempted to switch nations, but I don't really have any particular prefrence and it took long enough to pick Gosica...so maybe I'll jump in if the situation becomes desperate.

Oh, that's right...I think he did want Taenevix. As for you, Gosica has plenty of potential, so I wouldn't worry.

 

[Thlayli]

I still need a story from you for confirmation, Azale. I'll edit in the other descriptions as I finish them. Also, ruler names would be appreciated.

Holy Empire of Kantic Halidom
Ruler/Player: Azale

Government: In theory, Halidom follows an absolutist Imperial system. However, in recent years the Emperor has increasingly relied on a powerful clique of generals to make most major decisions, and civilian authority has eroded even in the core provinces. Some even say that the Emperor has become a puppet of the army...whether or not this is true remains to be seen. The clergy have historically wielded major influence in government, and were something of a state apparatus in earlier years, but their power has diminished.

Technology: After their disasterous defeat and humiliating peace treaty with Princeps, the Empire recognized that it required reform. However, reactionary forces in the military, clergy, and nobility only allowed this to occur in a piecemeal fashion. Tight control over the borders prevents diffusion of beneficial technology from Princeps or Taenevix, and only portions of the military have recieved the best weapons and supplies.

Culture: The state Protector of the Seraphic Faith in essence, Halidom had forged its Empire and dominated Arios for over five centuries until recent defeats that forced several territorial concessions. Their caste-like society is composed of four levels (minorities on the red list, the poor, the clergy, the nobles) in a system that often sees the struggle between the clergy and the various noble families for power. Ascencion from a lower level is near impossible at this juncture unless you join the military, but the lower class remain an important backbone as a hardy, deeply religious (and some would say, backwards and illiterate) pool of people from which the clergy and nobles can exploit. Unist Seraphism is the state religion; others are barely tolerated but those who practice them see little chance for opportunity in the Halidom and are restricted to the 3rd caste at best.

Economy: Halidom remains a somewhat backwards state, largely rural. Nobles often own vast estates, worked by huge numbers of peasants that are "contracted" to the land. This pseudo-serfdom is difficult to escape. In recent years however, a swell of dirt-poor immigrants have continued to crowd the cities, desparately hoping for work as industrialization begins to take a feeble hold. Even so, it is a system on the brink of collapse.

Military: Halidom's military is large, perhaps unnecessarily so. Comprised of 600,000 soldiers, even in peacetime, the army wields massive influence in government, and is largely responsible for the day to day functioning of the nation. Most of the "outer provinces," meaning area that contains a non-Kantic majority, are under de facto military governance. The non-conscript portions of the army are fairly well equipped, but their morale has dipped in recent years. The navy, utterly smashed by Princeps, has only 30 out of date ships of the line in commission, and these are restricted to northern waters.

Infrastructure: Halidom has managed to establish a fairly connected rail network. However, it is reserved for the use of the military and the upper classes, a fact greeted with resentment from the poor. Nonethless, roads and other infrastructure are kept in good condition by the military, despite lower technology and generally wretched living conditions.

History:

Spoiler :

For the past five centuries, Halidom had always dominated Arios, through a massive military, alliances, and client states. A long line of dedicated, powerful kings (and later, emperors) managed to subjugate the diverse ethnic groups of eastern Arios, and forge a centralized monarchy during a time when most of the continent was fractured by feudal warfare. They also reinvigorated and aggressively spread the ancient religion of Seraphism. In the past they led the great crusades against Islamica, and also against heretic Arion states. In the previous war, they allied with Buridisia, Mettlingen, and several others to fight Princeps and Gosica. Though the vast Kantic armies made initial gains, a series of devastating defeats at the hands of Eleón Compinarda, combined with several rebellions and the betrayal of their closest ally, the Cyrusican Empire, forced them to sue for peace. They conceded many territories and enclaves, but still maintained the majority of their old empire through a series of brutal postwar repressions. The military is large but unreformed, the monarchy is slowly stagnating, and though the culture and patriotism of the people in the central territories is high, angry minorities and discontented peasants are barely kept in check.

 

[Nylan]

Peas​

Peas. Always peas. Grandma Eusmann specialized in the cooking of peas. No…not cooking…demonizing them. Godwin found it hard to believe that anyone could take a crunchy, semi-sweet vegetable and turn it into something with the consistency of sand and a flavor like ash. That, however, only made Grandma’s special peas even more special. Godwin did his best to gag down a dozen for politeness’ sake, and then, when he was certain that no one was looking, swept the rest under the table. He was sure that he would not be discovered as the owner of those peas when the floor was swept, as he was certain that the rest of the family had done the very same thing. Godwin shoved the rest of his pork down quickly to smother the taste, and then excused himself so he could get some fresh air.

The sunlight was just starting to fade as he stepped outside into the fresh spring breeze that rolled over the fields and hills. It painted a picture of purple and orange, of violets and reds, a symphony of color that celebrated the events of the day and proclaimed the approach of the night, as the golden disk of the sun slowly melted into the mountainside. Godwin watched this eve’s sunset with special joy and pride. Nowhere in the world did they have sunsets like they did here, in the heart of Gosica, the greatest nation in Arios.

This inflated sense of pride came partly as a result of the envelope Godwin had received earlier in the day. It was a letter of acceptance, to the Delsen Military Academy in fact, and had been long awaited by the young man. All his life, he had heard stories of the Great War, and the glorious part Gosica played, when two nations dared to stand up to the world…and won. He wanted to be a part of that army. He wanted to wear that uniform. He wanted to command, to order, and to skirmish. Perhaps he was a bit over ambitious, but he certainly was not the only one. This same story would repeat itself in one form or another across the whole nation, a nationalism never before seen in Gosica. It had been thrust onto the world stage at the end of the war, and its people loved it.

In Godwin’s case, this meant leaving behind a loving family, his possessions, his home, and his way of life. He would have to travel to the city, a strange and foreign place. He would have to put up with aristocrats and the bourgeoisie, who would doubtless look down on such a farmer’s boy and label him a country bumpkin. That may not have been very far from the truth, but it would not matter to the Academy. To enter the Academy and become an officer in the army was no easy feat, but applicants were not chosen by blood. Merit was the order of the day here, and not without a little success. The most decisive maneuver of the war, which had resulted in the fall of Pelathir, had been contrived and executed by the son of a butcher, a commoner. War was not taken lightly in Gosica, and as such no pains were too great to ensure the integrity of the chain of command.

Godwin Eusmann had lost himself in all of this, and by the time he had snapped out of his trance, it was nearly dark. The crickets had begun to chirp, and the formerly vivid sky was now mostly dark, and the constellations were beginning to appear. Already, Godwin could spot the titan, the great troll, and in the south he could see part of the ghost ship – the masts – jutting above the horizon. The night was relatively cool, but not so much that a change of attire was needed, and so Godwin decided to go for a walk.

He strolled out past the rows of wheat, deep in fantasy. He imagined himself at the head of an army, leading the charge into a Callixti fortress, his horse smashing through the door as he cut down everyone in his path. He was so engrossed in his fantasies that had there not been very good reasons why he was in the Academy, he would have been crushed to death.

Out of nowhere, a large object fell from the sky and landed right where he had been standing. It was quite clear by the loud crack and thud of the impact that had he not dove out of the way when he caught a glimpse of movement, there would have been very little of him to left to bury. It seems some sort of flying object had decided to make a landing on his farm. A bird? No…there were no birds that large in this region. Some form of weaponry? Perhaps…after all…the clearing due east of there was a common training ground for artillery divisions. But why would they be firing at night?

Godwin did not have time to answer that question. He heard a low moan from within the wreckage of…whatever it was…and immediately sprung forward to help its owner free. The man he pulled from the debris was battered and of middling years. His injuries did not seem too serious, but it appeared that his left arm had been dislocated. Once they were clear of any danger or unknown objects, he set the man down. “Who are you and what are you doing on my farm?”

“My name is Kedrik Dulson, and I’m a member of the Scientific Corps.” the man wheezed. He hacked a few times, and then spit into the bushes, wiping his face as he did so. “And this,” He said, gesturing to the point of impact, “is the future of Gosica”.

Godwin glared at the man. “I don’t find that very comforting. Care to expound?”

Kedrik sighed. “Very well. This was supposed to be a military grade air plane, capable of high velocity and high altitude flight as well as gunning. We call them fighter planes. A few nations have succeeded in the construction of effective combat aircraft, most notably Taenevix and Princeps, and the King is interested in replicating their success. I was out for a testing flight…and lets just say that this prototype still has a few bugs to work out. Luckily, we are good friends with the Princepii, and hopefully they will respond to the King’s request for aid with the project. Until then…this is what we have.”

Godwin had intended to be mad at the man, but now that his interest had been piqued, he cared little for anger and retribution, he wanted to know more. “So…why were you flying at night?”

“As you can imagine” Kedrik replied, “some of the folk around here may not take too well to flying machines zipping to and fro all day. We felt it would be wiser to wait until night time to not disturb the public. As an added bonus, they never see things like this.” He smiled weakly and gestured once again to the wreckage.

“I see…” mused the farmboy. “Well,” He said after he came to, “I suppose we’d better get you to the house. Laying out here won’t do you any good, not with that arm, and my granny has prepared her famous peas tonight. They’ll be cold, but they’ll fill you up, and I’d wager you could use a forkful of home cooking right now.”

Kedrik smiled again as Godwin helped him to his feet. “That I would, kind sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Godwin, Godwin Eusmann, and don’t worry. The pleasure is all mine.”

 

[Thlayli]

Ok, I've got Telerius, Hadato, and Ka-la'i-akea left to do, for the currently confirmed PC's.

Gosica
Ruler/Player: Nylan

Government: Gosica's laws have never been codified over the years, and the result is a complicated system. Basically an Oligarchic Parliamentary Monarchy, the Gosican government was created gradually through various compromises between the people, the nobility, and the monarchy. The King is selected on a rotating basis from two royal houses of Guipikan and Gottic descent. The nobility collectively chooses 7 advisors for the King’s High Council, which formulates policy that must be approved yearly by the Landsmen's Convocation, basically a sporadically meeting people's assembly. The system is prone to plots and attempted coups, but overall is quite stable.

Technology: A thriving manufacturing industry in the Brotan Valley has supplemented the ancient shipbuilding centers of the northwest coast. Steam-powered furnaces and engines are in great demand, and Delsen is home to many skilled machinists known throughout Arios for their skill. Gosica was the first nation to "borrow" the dirigible airship technology from Guild Kuurel, an incident which almost sparked a war.

Culture: Gosica is a unique mix of two different, yet equally warlike cultures: The coastal Guipikans and the city dwelling, hardy Gotts. Together these two cultures have forged a history and a culture of military excellence and honor. They are a very proud people, and yet are meek, not taking too much to personal boasting or glorification. The average Gosican is the perfect model of the hardy, law abiding citizen that most militaries are sworn to protect. Ever progressive, they look to the future and a chance to burn Gosica into the annals of history for future generations to revere.

Economy: The Gosican government has encouraged private industry, and trade is high with Jathalland and Princeps, two nations reluctant to deal with Mettlingen very often. As a result, Gosican exports have risen to a new high. Domestic manufacturing has also boomed in recent years. (See Technology)

Military: The Gosican military has been downsized for peacetime, since the continuing threat from the Republic of Callixtus is viewed (by some) to be minor. Numbering roughly 125,000 soldiers, the professionalism and morale of the Gosican military is excellent, especially following the successes of the last war. With the last Guipikan principalities integrated into the Kingdom about 30 years ago, the navy has also grown to be a formidable force. Though small, it also fields an impressive class of pre-dreadnoughts to rival those of Mettlingen, Jathalland or Princeps.

Infrastructure: Gosica has a fully complete system of roads, railroads, and even a telegraph network. Its only challenge has been integrating the different regions of the Kingdom into a coherent transportation system, and they have largely succeeded. War damage was restricted to the borderlands, and quickly repaired.

History:

Spoiler :

Gosica is a nation that was forged by the fiery hammers of war from start to finish. Culturally, it is mostly unified, with shades of gray in between two cultures, the Guipikans, who formed an organized coastal confederacy, who had a strange religion (though they later converted to Seraphism), Yultism, a cult based around the worship of trees and water spirits. The other group, the Gotts, were a sturdy people, who had survived many a migration, to form free spirited, yet very disciplined men who lived in cities. The two groups formed separate nations at first, constantly feuding, and absorbing themselves into each other over again, until finally the vast Claidhean migration swept through their northern lands, forcing them to gradually merge in a dynastic union. They managed to drive back the Claidhe invasion, and formed a united state; it allied with the Princepii in the Great War and managed to gain much territory; now being a naval power.