PureNES: Years of Excelsior
- Thread starter North King
- Start date
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
You also will probably not get one.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Right. I sent them to 4 players this turn, so your chances of getting one are much better next turn.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
I have this maddening ability to overcomplicate things...as you will all see. It's very good story material though, and that's what this is all about, innit? 
(that's what I'll keep telling myself anyways...
)
(that's what I'll keep telling myself anyways...)
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
@Thlayli: That only applies if I survive this turn... (- -)
Anyway, I don't know if I can come up with a good story for this update. My defeat was pretty complete against the Sea Peoples, although the way my "entire" military went down was quite epic.
I need to consider it for a while.
Anyway, I don't know if I can come up with a good story for this update. My defeat was pretty complete against the Sea Peoples, although the way my "entire" military went down was quite epic.
I need to consider it for a while.
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
Can I have a PM regarding Syr's backstory? I want to write a story about them and Yuzoi, but I can hardly do that with only the brief description in the coda of the update.
EDIT: And yeah, I W-post - with style!
EDIT: And yeah, I W-post - with style!
Nylan
Characters Welcome
Story to be coming soon (when I get home), but I don't know if I will be able to get it up before tomorrow morning.
In any case, why is it that Vardis is completely ignored by the rest of the world eh? I sent out diplo a while ago, and have not heard back, nor has anyone bothered to contact. I feel wonewy
In any case, why is it that Vardis is completely ignored by the rest of the world eh? I sent out diplo a while ago, and have not heard back, nor has anyone bothered to contact. I feel wonewy
"So, what are these...beasts?"
Jasih was, after his glorious victory against the large invading army with a mere garrison and peasants, basically the Teacher in all but name. He was Grand Commander of the Armies, High Lord of the Low-Plains (Draklor Homeland), and several other minor titles and honors.
He even won a few duels of honor at the Sacred Festival of the First Teacher, where all worthy fighters fought in tribute to the first. A glorious affair, to be sure, but that power and glory did nothing when confronted by such strange beasts.
"As far as we can tell, my lord, they seem to be four-legged monsters. They can travel great distances, and are extremely fast. The only reason we're even observing the few down there in that valley is because they don't run all the time. Our best trackers had trouble keeping up," remarked the hunter Jasih was using as a guide.
"Can you capture a few?" Jasih asked the man.
The man turned, surprised, as if that was the last thing he wanted to do in this situation.
"Capture, my lord? Why not kill the monsters? Wouldn't that be a good way to test our strength and hunting ability? They move so quickly, it would be a good test for young hunters."
Jasih took that train of thought, and let his mind run away with for a few moments. It was indeed a worthy idea, and challenge. The thrill of the hunt, and skill required to track over great distances.
But, on the other hand, if he captured them, perhaps he could use them? How? And in what manner? They were fast, and had great stamina. The battle against the Younger army would have been so much easier if he had a quick moving force to more easily flank his enemy. It would have been so much easier for him to issue orders if he could quickly navigate the battlefield.
"Your idea has merit, and you will be rewarded for your devotion to challenging yourself, but I have a more suiting challenge for you. Break these creatures wills, and dominate them until they serve us."
The man was shocked at the claim. Train and capture these wild beasts? Had the famous General finally gone mad?
"Train, my lord? Is that possible?"
Jasih just smirked, a twinkle in his eye, "I don't know. It's your challenge after all, Equi. By the way, what do you call these beasts?"
Equi was startled by the seemingly joking tone that general had taken with him for a moment, before remembering that he had asked a question.
"Well, I just called them Jaosti."
Jasih regarded the man, and smiled. "Gods of Wind. It suits, given their speed. I expect a full contingent of these Jaosti when I return from the Clan council, and tell those crusty old bags what we're going to do with these creatures."
Equi merely looked scared at the prospect at Jasih expecting anything from him. After all, it was best not to upset the prospective future ruler of the realm.
Jasih was, after his glorious victory against the large invading army with a mere garrison and peasants, basically the Teacher in all but name. He was Grand Commander of the Armies, High Lord of the Low-Plains (Draklor Homeland), and several other minor titles and honors.
He even won a few duels of honor at the Sacred Festival of the First Teacher, where all worthy fighters fought in tribute to the first. A glorious affair, to be sure, but that power and glory did nothing when confronted by such strange beasts.
"As far as we can tell, my lord, they seem to be four-legged monsters. They can travel great distances, and are extremely fast. The only reason we're even observing the few down there in that valley is because they don't run all the time. Our best trackers had trouble keeping up," remarked the hunter Jasih was using as a guide.
"Can you capture a few?" Jasih asked the man.
The man turned, surprised, as if that was the last thing he wanted to do in this situation.
"Capture, my lord? Why not kill the monsters? Wouldn't that be a good way to test our strength and hunting ability? They move so quickly, it would be a good test for young hunters."
Jasih took that train of thought, and let his mind run away with for a few moments. It was indeed a worthy idea, and challenge. The thrill of the hunt, and skill required to track over great distances.
But, on the other hand, if he captured them, perhaps he could use them? How? And in what manner? They were fast, and had great stamina. The battle against the Younger army would have been so much easier if he had a quick moving force to more easily flank his enemy. It would have been so much easier for him to issue orders if he could quickly navigate the battlefield.
"Your idea has merit, and you will be rewarded for your devotion to challenging yourself, but I have a more suiting challenge for you. Break these creatures wills, and dominate them until they serve us."
The man was shocked at the claim. Train and capture these wild beasts? Had the famous General finally gone mad?
"Train, my lord? Is that possible?"
Jasih just smirked, a twinkle in his eye, "I don't know. It's your challenge after all, Equi. By the way, what do you call these beasts?"
Equi was startled by the seemingly joking tone that general had taken with him for a moment, before remembering that he had asked a question.
"Well, I just called them Jaosti."
Jasih regarded the man, and smiled. "Gods of Wind. It suits, given their speed. I expect a full contingent of these Jaosti when I return from the Clan council, and tell those crusty old bags what we're going to do with these creatures."
Equi merely looked scared at the prospect at Jasih expecting anything from him. After all, it was best not to upset the prospective future ruler of the realm.
Manifest Destiny
"Do Jykmor's gifts justice, and do something worthy with them."
-Veritor Dilato Emino
The previous Veritor had been pretty profligate. The first words that entered his mind when he was first appointed Veritor and got his first look at the treasury were not very flattering.
Eheu, what a waste of money. Caudax. A bloody huge and bloated military, and to top it all off new ships, in good condition too! Sand didn't float well, so what was the point?
Ah, well. Everybody reforms. From his ornate palace in Adhuckor, he could study the maps. Nothing to the East was clear. It was obvious, though. They wanted to go West, back to fertile lands. However, those silly states were in the way. Yes, they did bear Exilia's culture, but...come on, they were obstacles to true glory.
So he would do what nobody had thought of before. The old, languishing capital of Exilor was the last bastion to the East.
Go into the wilderness and tame the barbarians that lay there. Tame the beasts, tame the creatures, harness the lands.
Was there even anything beyond the cursed desert?
Use Jykmor's gifts.
Would it all be fruitless?
Man was given courage and determination.
Or could there be fertile lands to the east...
He knew the Priesthood would definitely argue that the gifts were all to the West. Further, further west, one of the sniveling old fools was always telling him, always with that rotten dirty smell emanating from the mouth. that he couldn't stand.
You were given a navy and an army.
Could it be? Was he just twisting words and visions, rationalizing it all just so he could become great? Or was there some truth...could it be that to the East lay glories beyond the West? Impossible...but could there be something there, something that would help them make the fabled Journey to the West? This he couldn't pass up, no matter what.
He nodded.
Plans to strike East will be laid. Go East to Reach West. Within the month, soldiers will be on the move, for the glory of Exilia.
"Do Jykmor's gifts justice, and do something worthy with them."
-Veritor Dilato Emino
The previous Veritor had been pretty profligate. The first words that entered his mind when he was first appointed Veritor and got his first look at the treasury were not very flattering.
Eheu, what a waste of money. Caudax. A bloody huge and bloated military, and to top it all off new ships, in good condition too! Sand didn't float well, so what was the point?
Ah, well. Everybody reforms. From his ornate palace in Adhuckor, he could study the maps. Nothing to the East was clear. It was obvious, though. They wanted to go West, back to fertile lands. However, those silly states were in the way. Yes, they did bear Exilia's culture, but...come on, they were obstacles to true glory.
So he would do what nobody had thought of before. The old, languishing capital of Exilor was the last bastion to the East.
Go into the wilderness and tame the barbarians that lay there. Tame the beasts, tame the creatures, harness the lands.
Was there even anything beyond the cursed desert?
Use Jykmor's gifts.
Would it all be fruitless?
Man was given courage and determination.
Or could there be fertile lands to the east...
He knew the Priesthood would definitely argue that the gifts were all to the West. Further, further west, one of the sniveling old fools was always telling him, always with that rotten dirty smell emanating from the mouth. that he couldn't stand.
You were given a navy and an army.
Could it be? Was he just twisting words and visions, rationalizing it all just so he could become great? Or was there some truth...could it be that to the East lay glories beyond the West? Impossible...but could there be something there, something that would help them make the fabled Journey to the West? This he couldn't pass up, no matter what.
He nodded.
Plans to strike East will be laid. Go East to Reach West. Within the month, soldiers will be on the move, for the glory of Exilia.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
OOC: Unfinished, but it is getting long, so I will write the rest later.
Viktor sat in his study. He was pondering the events of the past few days, as well as their implications. He had agreed to duel Krukos, war-captain of the Haskfe, to settle the end of the war. Of course, had he not done so, it is possible the war would have ended anyways. However, Viktor could not allow the Haskfe to occupy his lands unbidden, nor did he trust that the peace would have lasted. In any case, what was done was done. He would fight Krukos and end the bloody conflict.
At the same time, the fates of Haskfe and Vardis grew ever closer together. A number of Haskfe had answered the beckoning calls of Vardis, they had accepted Viktor’s offer to join their former enemies. The wealth and opportunities of Vardis were hard to resist for such a strife-ridden people. Viktor hoped that this would continue. War had bled Vardis greatly, and people were strength.
The landscape continued to change, as ramparts and walls became ever more common. At this point, the defenses at Ardis* were becoming quite impressive, and the weapon smiths had received much business and experience. Even now they continued to search for better metals and better weapons to improve their products. Indeed, they were quite famed, and the walls of Ardis were legend.
He had heard though, that even the ramparts of Vardi* were overshadowed by a mighty edifice in the north. The Temple of Laws, as it was called, had been the point of much discussion throughout the land, and had created quite a stir. However, this was to be expected. More and more travelers from Vardis had reached other parts of the world, and they came back with many stories. No longer just a fringe state on the edge of the map, Vardis had become more and more connected with the outside world, especially via the Dimini. Trade brought back many new goods, as well as the countless stories of wonder and conflict.
Conflict….there was a lot of that lately as well. News had reached Viktor that Vardis was not alone in struggle with unknown powers. The Jiru had caused much strife in the east, as The People would attest (although he was growing rather irritated that foreign rulers continued to ignore his existence). The west was much the same story, as the barbaric Draklor continue to crush all who stand in their way.
The most interesting thing Viktor had heard, however, was about the “Sea Peoples”. Could they be the Demons of old, who once had ruled from mighty Tjaris? Could they be the brothers of the Angels, who had driven them to the sea? It had been said that they had sailed away across the great seas of north after their defeat, promising to return with fire and vengeance. Viktor did not know if these two peoples were one and the same, but people were more and more conscious of the Order-Chaos Balance. There was a great deal of Order in Harungen and Habyte, yes, but was it enough to counterbalance the Chaos that encroached on all sides? More importantly, would it be able to keep that Chaos from consuming the world? One could only hope.
When Viktor had concluded his pondering, he proceeded to prepare himself for the coming duel. He donned his leathers and his studded doublet, tying one sword to his belt and strapping another across his back, along with a throwing dagger. Tjara, it was called, named after the legendary city. The sword at his hip was known as Cirin, the blade of truth. Both were passed down from ruler to ruler, being symbols of Order and Chaos.
After Viktor was fully dressed and armed, he rose to leave his study, but as he stepped forward to open the door, he paused. After a moment, he turned and picked up a stiletto, which he tied under his sleeve. Daima had been thoughtful enough to leave a slit in the cuff, through which he could quickly draw the blade. Finally ready, the ruler of Vardis walked out the door and out to the courtyard, where the Haskfe delegation, as well as a number of choice Ordarans* were waiting for him.
Viktor approached the delegation, trying to pick out his opponent. It was not difficult, Krukos stood a full head above the rest of his compatriots, including the messenger who had demanded tribute on his behalf. Viktor snorted. As if he would ever pay tribute to the Haskfe, or anyone for that matter. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the war-captain, trying to learn as much as he could about his foe.
He was, as most Haskfe, broad chested and shouldered, and he was notably strong. It was clear that Viktor would be utterly crushed in a contest of strength. If the day was to be won, it would be by agility and skill. Thankfully the “Fire Demon”, as the barbarians called him, had plenty of both. Krukos had an enormous axe strapped to his back, and wore animal skins. He turned as another of the delegation pointed out Viktor, and revealed two small beady eyes, a misshapen nose, and a face covered in scars. His flowing red mane stretched to his waist.
“Fire Demon!” He boomed as he saw the approaching ruler. “Are you prepared to do battle?”
“As always” was Viktor’s cool reply. He turned to a page that had approached him from the left. “Is it time to proceed with the ceremony?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Very well then.” He turned and strode towards an enormous tent that had been erected in the center of the courtyard, the Haskfe close behind. The flap was pulled back to reveal a number of long tables, covered in food. Approximately half of the chairs were occupied by the Vardi delegation, and the others were quickly filled by the Haskfe. On a raised dais at the far end of the tent was another table, grander than the others. It was there that Viktor, Krukos, and their closest advisors took their seats. Once all were settled, a herald stood and called those present to silence.
“Welcome, all. We are here this day to bring an end to the conflict that has enveloped our peoples for so long. After today, let there no more be malice between Haskfe and Vardis, but harmony and prosperity.” He paused while his Haskfe counterpart translated before continuing.
“We shall begin by following Vardi tradition. May the duelists please arise? Now, please recite the Oath of Ordara.” Both men placed their fists on their breast and spoke in unison.
“For Order, for Unity, and for Peace, we now pledge our might, our honor, our people, and our lives. May this bond of Peace ne’er be broken, lest we be destroyed.” They then raised goblets of ceremonial wine, and both delegations rose and did likewise.
“To Haskfe!” Viktor shouted.
“To Vardis!” Krukos growled.
They then drained their goblets, and there was not but sound of chairs on grass as all but the duelists returned to their seats.
“Now,” the heralds continued in turn, “The duelists shall complete the Haskfe peace ritual.”
Both men walked forward to the front of the dais. They had been shown what to do days beforehand, as with the oath. A fire had been lit in the center of the tent, and there were two sages holding brands and knives and brands on either side. Each duelist took a knife, in turn they made a long cut on the other’s arm, and cut a diamond into their opponent’s palm. When they were done, they clasped hands and let their blood mingle. This was to symbolize their pledge to one another.
Ignoring the blood seeping from their cuts, they then took the hot brands and placed them on their own foreheads. The pain was intense, but Viktor would allow no sound, no sign of suffering to escape him as he pressed the white-hot metal to his skin. When he removed the brand there was a cross inside a circle marked on his forehead. The mark was meant to represent their pledge to themselves.
Once finished, they returned to their seats and the feast commenced. There was great noise and camaraderie, and when all had finished eating there was a mood of general contentment. Viktor, however, had eaten little. He didn’t want anything slowing him down in the coming fight.
When the festivities had ended, the crowd made its way out of the tent and across the courtyard, where a large circle had been roped off. They gathered around as Krukos and Viktor climbed inside, grim looks of determination on their faces.
“The battle shall now be joined between these two great men, to determine the fate of Vardis and Haskfe.” The herald spoke; he paused once again for his compatriot to translate. He then turned to face the duelists, and nodded. “Whenever you are ready, m’lords.”
(tbc)
*Many words that were once used to describe the same thing from the opposing views of Order and Chaos are now interchangeable, Vardi and Ardis, or Ordarans and Lumosians, for example.
Duel of Fate
Viktor sat in his study. He was pondering the events of the past few days, as well as their implications. He had agreed to duel Krukos, war-captain of the Haskfe, to settle the end of the war. Of course, had he not done so, it is possible the war would have ended anyways. However, Viktor could not allow the Haskfe to occupy his lands unbidden, nor did he trust that the peace would have lasted. In any case, what was done was done. He would fight Krukos and end the bloody conflict.
At the same time, the fates of Haskfe and Vardis grew ever closer together. A number of Haskfe had answered the beckoning calls of Vardis, they had accepted Viktor’s offer to join their former enemies. The wealth and opportunities of Vardis were hard to resist for such a strife-ridden people. Viktor hoped that this would continue. War had bled Vardis greatly, and people were strength.
The landscape continued to change, as ramparts and walls became ever more common. At this point, the defenses at Ardis* were becoming quite impressive, and the weapon smiths had received much business and experience. Even now they continued to search for better metals and better weapons to improve their products. Indeed, they were quite famed, and the walls of Ardis were legend.
He had heard though, that even the ramparts of Vardi* were overshadowed by a mighty edifice in the north. The Temple of Laws, as it was called, had been the point of much discussion throughout the land, and had created quite a stir. However, this was to be expected. More and more travelers from Vardis had reached other parts of the world, and they came back with many stories. No longer just a fringe state on the edge of the map, Vardis had become more and more connected with the outside world, especially via the Dimini. Trade brought back many new goods, as well as the countless stories of wonder and conflict.
Conflict….there was a lot of that lately as well. News had reached Viktor that Vardis was not alone in struggle with unknown powers. The Jiru had caused much strife in the east, as The People would attest (although he was growing rather irritated that foreign rulers continued to ignore his existence). The west was much the same story, as the barbaric Draklor continue to crush all who stand in their way.
The most interesting thing Viktor had heard, however, was about the “Sea Peoples”. Could they be the Demons of old, who once had ruled from mighty Tjaris? Could they be the brothers of the Angels, who had driven them to the sea? It had been said that they had sailed away across the great seas of north after their defeat, promising to return with fire and vengeance. Viktor did not know if these two peoples were one and the same, but people were more and more conscious of the Order-Chaos Balance. There was a great deal of Order in Harungen and Habyte, yes, but was it enough to counterbalance the Chaos that encroached on all sides? More importantly, would it be able to keep that Chaos from consuming the world? One could only hope.
When Viktor had concluded his pondering, he proceeded to prepare himself for the coming duel. He donned his leathers and his studded doublet, tying one sword to his belt and strapping another across his back, along with a throwing dagger. Tjara, it was called, named after the legendary city. The sword at his hip was known as Cirin, the blade of truth. Both were passed down from ruler to ruler, being symbols of Order and Chaos.
After Viktor was fully dressed and armed, he rose to leave his study, but as he stepped forward to open the door, he paused. After a moment, he turned and picked up a stiletto, which he tied under his sleeve. Daima had been thoughtful enough to leave a slit in the cuff, through which he could quickly draw the blade. Finally ready, the ruler of Vardis walked out the door and out to the courtyard, where the Haskfe delegation, as well as a number of choice Ordarans* were waiting for him.
Viktor approached the delegation, trying to pick out his opponent. It was not difficult, Krukos stood a full head above the rest of his compatriots, including the messenger who had demanded tribute on his behalf. Viktor snorted. As if he would ever pay tribute to the Haskfe, or anyone for that matter. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the war-captain, trying to learn as much as he could about his foe.
He was, as most Haskfe, broad chested and shouldered, and he was notably strong. It was clear that Viktor would be utterly crushed in a contest of strength. If the day was to be won, it would be by agility and skill. Thankfully the “Fire Demon”, as the barbarians called him, had plenty of both. Krukos had an enormous axe strapped to his back, and wore animal skins. He turned as another of the delegation pointed out Viktor, and revealed two small beady eyes, a misshapen nose, and a face covered in scars. His flowing red mane stretched to his waist.
“Fire Demon!” He boomed as he saw the approaching ruler. “Are you prepared to do battle?”
“As always” was Viktor’s cool reply. He turned to a page that had approached him from the left. “Is it time to proceed with the ceremony?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Very well then.” He turned and strode towards an enormous tent that had been erected in the center of the courtyard, the Haskfe close behind. The flap was pulled back to reveal a number of long tables, covered in food. Approximately half of the chairs were occupied by the Vardi delegation, and the others were quickly filled by the Haskfe. On a raised dais at the far end of the tent was another table, grander than the others. It was there that Viktor, Krukos, and their closest advisors took their seats. Once all were settled, a herald stood and called those present to silence.
“Welcome, all. We are here this day to bring an end to the conflict that has enveloped our peoples for so long. After today, let there no more be malice between Haskfe and Vardis, but harmony and prosperity.” He paused while his Haskfe counterpart translated before continuing.
“We shall begin by following Vardi tradition. May the duelists please arise? Now, please recite the Oath of Ordara.” Both men placed their fists on their breast and spoke in unison.
“For Order, for Unity, and for Peace, we now pledge our might, our honor, our people, and our lives. May this bond of Peace ne’er be broken, lest we be destroyed.” They then raised goblets of ceremonial wine, and both delegations rose and did likewise.
“To Haskfe!” Viktor shouted.
“To Vardis!” Krukos growled.
They then drained their goblets, and there was not but sound of chairs on grass as all but the duelists returned to their seats.
“Now,” the heralds continued in turn, “The duelists shall complete the Haskfe peace ritual.”
Both men walked forward to the front of the dais. They had been shown what to do days beforehand, as with the oath. A fire had been lit in the center of the tent, and there were two sages holding brands and knives and brands on either side. Each duelist took a knife, in turn they made a long cut on the other’s arm, and cut a diamond into their opponent’s palm. When they were done, they clasped hands and let their blood mingle. This was to symbolize their pledge to one another.
Ignoring the blood seeping from their cuts, they then took the hot brands and placed them on their own foreheads. The pain was intense, but Viktor would allow no sound, no sign of suffering to escape him as he pressed the white-hot metal to his skin. When he removed the brand there was a cross inside a circle marked on his forehead. The mark was meant to represent their pledge to themselves.
Once finished, they returned to their seats and the feast commenced. There was great noise and camaraderie, and when all had finished eating there was a mood of general contentment. Viktor, however, had eaten little. He didn’t want anything slowing him down in the coming fight.
When the festivities had ended, the crowd made its way out of the tent and across the courtyard, where a large circle had been roped off. They gathered around as Krukos and Viktor climbed inside, grim looks of determination on their faces.
“The battle shall now be joined between these two great men, to determine the fate of Vardis and Haskfe.” The herald spoke; he paused once again for his compatriot to translate. He then turned to face the duelists, and nodded. “Whenever you are ready, m’lords.”
(tbc)
*Many words that were once used to describe the same thing from the opposing views of Order and Chaos are now interchangeable, Vardi and Ardis, or Ordarans and Lumosians, for example.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Good to see some story writing going on. The deadline is tomorrow, but it may be pushed back a day if I don't get stories from enough people.
Especially Kal. His response to my PM is needed.
Especially Kal. His response to my PM is needed.
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
Bumpity bump.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
Then I must be the appendix...
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Lurker's Comment: Nylan, I'm afraid to say the song Duel of Fates doesn't exactly go with your story. It just... doesn't fit
"Doctrine: Flexibility
He held his arm too stiffly, and so was thrown back repeatedly,
until at last I seized his forearm and snapped it back against
itself. His training suffered while the arm healed, of course,
but I felt this was a lesson he must learn early, and well.
-- Spartan Kel,
'Honing the Ki'"
It must be simply stated that in times of war chaos would seem to have a natural advantage, what with the vast armies arrayed against each other and the unkown variables. There is no simple solution. Whilst the Gods fight each other[1], locked in an eternal battle of wills distirbuing the tranquil beauty of a still sea they do so because they represent extremes, and the goal of both groups is Order of Chaos.
When men fight there is almost always some more mundane objective, the capture of a city, the destruction of an army and so on. It must be noted that whilst fighting rebels can harden your troops and allow them to strengthen, they are not the best place for masterfull tactics and stratagy, rebels generally falling apart once there misfit leader dies. [Though they are all traitors and heretics, and as such must be dealt with].
And when two equal minds begin to play games of stratagy with each other, order again seems to be at a disadvantage, for a clearly ordered battle-plan can be exploited just as easily by your opponant, and thus one has to give the appearance of chaos, then as time moves on, and the final mechanisms of your stratagy unfold it becomes apparant that the Phoenix does not drive you, and that there is a terrible great purpose to your movements. This form; is generally termed as Kaois. And it entails the importance of understanding the perspective of things, and more-over the perspective different peoples will have.
[1] you think natural disaster etc are part of the natural order of things? of course not, thats the gods activities seeping through
He held his arm too stiffly, and so was thrown back repeatedly,
until at last I seized his forearm and snapped it back against
itself. His training suffered while the arm healed, of course,
but I felt this was a lesson he must learn early, and well.
-- Spartan Kel,
'Honing the Ki'"
It must be simply stated that in times of war chaos would seem to have a natural advantage, what with the vast armies arrayed against each other and the unkown variables. There is no simple solution. Whilst the Gods fight each other[1], locked in an eternal battle of wills distirbuing the tranquil beauty of a still sea they do so because they represent extremes, and the goal of both groups is Order of Chaos.
When men fight there is almost always some more mundane objective, the capture of a city, the destruction of an army and so on. It must be noted that whilst fighting rebels can harden your troops and allow them to strengthen, they are not the best place for masterfull tactics and stratagy, rebels generally falling apart once there misfit leader dies. [Though they are all traitors and heretics, and as such must be dealt with].
And when two equal minds begin to play games of stratagy with each other, order again seems to be at a disadvantage, for a clearly ordered battle-plan can be exploited just as easily by your opponant, and thus one has to give the appearance of chaos, then as time moves on, and the final mechanisms of your stratagy unfold it becomes apparant that the Phoenix does not drive you, and that there is a terrible great purpose to your movements. This form; is generally termed as Kaois. And it entails the importance of understanding the perspective of things, and more-over the perspective different peoples will have.
[1] you think natural disaster etc are part of the natural order of things? of course not, thats the gods activities seeping through
Jason The King
Deity
Taking off his bronze helmet and giving it to his darker servant, Palo preceded up the stairs into the chamber of the King’s palace. The steps, made of high quality polished stone from the Golden Heights, represented the wealth the Alezari monarch had accumulated over the years. Despising the stairs more then admiring them, Palo passed the two disciplined guards and made his way through the chamber door. Inside he found himself surrounded by immaculate portraits of the current monarch, each outlined in the polished stone and decorated with gold dust. The floor was complete covered by the fir of thousands of ranging beasts, the monarch being found on the far side enjoying a roasted swine on said floor. His ministers busily engaged in conversation, each trying to gain the admiration of the aging monarch to acquire more of the Kingdom’s wealth for their own coffers, King Frann IV welcomed his High Captain of the Army to join the group.
“Palo, what brings you across the mountains from Ebeor to see my court?” the wrinkled face questioned. His voice quivered and strained to make the words he spoke audible. He struggled to rise and greet Palo. The ministers continued to jabber, seemingly unaware of the presence of Palo.
“Please, my liege, I do not require a formal welcome. But I must speak with you. Privately.” The last word caught the attention of the ministers, finally quieting the cold room. With a simple nod from the King, the ministers rose and preceded to exit the chamber. All save one.
“That means you too, Marcia.”
“My King, as high minister I implore you to allow me to remain in your –“ but before he could finish, he was answered, “No, I am still able to conduct the affairs of my Kingdom without your word.” A slight bow and the scrawny High Minister followed his comrades. But not without a stinging stare at Palo as he passed by.
“You highness, I come to you with news not of your army, but of your people,” Palo began after hearing the chamber door closed and bolted. He than began to sit next to the feasting king.
“I have eight ministers for that, Palo, and have only you to watch over my army.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, but I fear your ministers care more of their estates and trade than of the people they protect.”
“And what about yourself, Palo. Your army requires more of the royal income than any other establishment here.”
“Except for one,” Palo corrected, bringing the feasting monarch to slowly lay down his meat and stare, startled at the insurrection and blatant accusation made against him. Palo continued before the old man could respond, realizing now that he had turned to a path he could not come back from.
“Every month the construction of the new palace at Tolido costs more then double that of the annual costs for maintaining your army. Maintaining this palace alone is nearly equitable as well. I am not against royal splendor, my highness, but when nearly 100,000 pieces are spent on refinishing steps to the Royal Chamber while your people decline to poverty, and when your army is barely nutritioned properly, well then I think there is a problem.” Done collecting his thoughts, the monarch stood quicker than Palo thought was possible. Rage in his eyes, the man spoke with a booming voice and outstretched arms.
“Who do you think you are? I am the King, not you,” he yelled, bringing to attention the guards outside the door, who Palo heard began to shuffle and open the door, “I know what is good for this Kingdom. This is MY kingdom, MY land, and MY people.”
“Your people are starving. Alezar has been in the dark for more than a hundred years, King, while the rest of the world prospers and advances. Habyta is more than double our size, her wealth makes the royal income look like pocket change, her monuments the envy of the world! Do not make the mistake of running this kingdom into the ground, my King!” Palo was now standing and matching the King’s voice with his own. Again stunned, the red-faced old man called for his guards.
“Take this man out of the palace,” he ordered, and than, turning to Palo, “make your way back to your army. Inform Sergo that you have been relieved from duty and that he is to make his way here to be appointed new High Captain. You are than to remain in Ebeor, or wherever you wish. But you are never to return to Alezar. You are hereby banished from my Kingdom.”
*************************************
Palo waited in his quarters for what seemed like days. Sergo was surely taking his time to get here, he thought. Beginning to become slightly worried, Palo stood up as his friend entered the chamber.
“Sergo, thank you for coming. How are you?”
“I am fine, Captain. Your army is ready, and in good spirits to have their captain back. How was the trip to Alezar?” he asked, after shaking Palo’s hand. Sergo’s face showed he already knew the answer.
“King Frann did not take kindly to my suggestions.” Silence seemed to penetrate the wooden room they stood in, with only the sudden gusts of wind that pushed the shanty around penetrating it.
“I have been relieved of my command, and banished from the Kingdom. It seems what we feared most has come to pass, my friend. I hope you are still with me.”
“I am, Palo, and your men are with you as well. We head for Alezar in the morning.”
*************************************
The army had been marching for nearly six days, famished by the regular low rations allowed for each man by the stringent budget of the Royalty. The Royal City was within sights now, its gates locked as it waited the return of the army. No doubt the King and his ministers heard by now of the coming hostility, and no doubt they intended to selfishly risk the lives of the city’s citizens in a siege. Turning to Sergo, Palo asked what the city was equipped with.
“Kellar’s fourth army from the Heights is reportedly within the city, the only regimental captain to remain loyal to the King. His contingent, nearly two thousand strong, do not stand a chance against your army, Palo.” His friend responded, though the look in his eyes seemed dubious.
“What does the city have in terms of defensive structures, Sergo?”
“Nearly four feet thick walls and eight towers.” Eight, Palo thought, was more than enough to surely compromise his victory. Remaining confident, Palo gave the order. “Execute the plan we talked about. The city is to remain as undamaged as possible. The palace is our main target, no doubt the King and his court will take refuge in Golden Tower. From there he can hold out with only a handful of guards.”
Nodding, the younger man left Palo. Was what he was fighting for really worth the lives of so many men, he thought? Is the right of the people to have enough to eat, to have adequate protection, and a word in their government worth a war? Whatever the answer was, it was too late. The first wave was already underway.
“Palo, what brings you across the mountains from Ebeor to see my court?” the wrinkled face questioned. His voice quivered and strained to make the words he spoke audible. He struggled to rise and greet Palo. The ministers continued to jabber, seemingly unaware of the presence of Palo.
“Please, my liege, I do not require a formal welcome. But I must speak with you. Privately.” The last word caught the attention of the ministers, finally quieting the cold room. With a simple nod from the King, the ministers rose and preceded to exit the chamber. All save one.
“That means you too, Marcia.”
“My King, as high minister I implore you to allow me to remain in your –“ but before he could finish, he was answered, “No, I am still able to conduct the affairs of my Kingdom without your word.” A slight bow and the scrawny High Minister followed his comrades. But not without a stinging stare at Palo as he passed by.
“You highness, I come to you with news not of your army, but of your people,” Palo began after hearing the chamber door closed and bolted. He than began to sit next to the feasting king.
“I have eight ministers for that, Palo, and have only you to watch over my army.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, but I fear your ministers care more of their estates and trade than of the people they protect.”
“And what about yourself, Palo. Your army requires more of the royal income than any other establishment here.”
“Except for one,” Palo corrected, bringing the feasting monarch to slowly lay down his meat and stare, startled at the insurrection and blatant accusation made against him. Palo continued before the old man could respond, realizing now that he had turned to a path he could not come back from.
“Every month the construction of the new palace at Tolido costs more then double that of the annual costs for maintaining your army. Maintaining this palace alone is nearly equitable as well. I am not against royal splendor, my highness, but when nearly 100,000 pieces are spent on refinishing steps to the Royal Chamber while your people decline to poverty, and when your army is barely nutritioned properly, well then I think there is a problem.” Done collecting his thoughts, the monarch stood quicker than Palo thought was possible. Rage in his eyes, the man spoke with a booming voice and outstretched arms.
“Who do you think you are? I am the King, not you,” he yelled, bringing to attention the guards outside the door, who Palo heard began to shuffle and open the door, “I know what is good for this Kingdom. This is MY kingdom, MY land, and MY people.”
“Your people are starving. Alezar has been in the dark for more than a hundred years, King, while the rest of the world prospers and advances. Habyta is more than double our size, her wealth makes the royal income look like pocket change, her monuments the envy of the world! Do not make the mistake of running this kingdom into the ground, my King!” Palo was now standing and matching the King’s voice with his own. Again stunned, the red-faced old man called for his guards.
“Take this man out of the palace,” he ordered, and than, turning to Palo, “make your way back to your army. Inform Sergo that you have been relieved from duty and that he is to make his way here to be appointed new High Captain. You are than to remain in Ebeor, or wherever you wish. But you are never to return to Alezar. You are hereby banished from my Kingdom.”
*************************************
Palo waited in his quarters for what seemed like days. Sergo was surely taking his time to get here, he thought. Beginning to become slightly worried, Palo stood up as his friend entered the chamber.
“Sergo, thank you for coming. How are you?”
“I am fine, Captain. Your army is ready, and in good spirits to have their captain back. How was the trip to Alezar?” he asked, after shaking Palo’s hand. Sergo’s face showed he already knew the answer.
“King Frann did not take kindly to my suggestions.” Silence seemed to penetrate the wooden room they stood in, with only the sudden gusts of wind that pushed the shanty around penetrating it.
“I have been relieved of my command, and banished from the Kingdom. It seems what we feared most has come to pass, my friend. I hope you are still with me.”
“I am, Palo, and your men are with you as well. We head for Alezar in the morning.”
*************************************
The army had been marching for nearly six days, famished by the regular low rations allowed for each man by the stringent budget of the Royalty. The Royal City was within sights now, its gates locked as it waited the return of the army. No doubt the King and his ministers heard by now of the coming hostility, and no doubt they intended to selfishly risk the lives of the city’s citizens in a siege. Turning to Sergo, Palo asked what the city was equipped with.
“Kellar’s fourth army from the Heights is reportedly within the city, the only regimental captain to remain loyal to the King. His contingent, nearly two thousand strong, do not stand a chance against your army, Palo.” His friend responded, though the look in his eyes seemed dubious.
“What does the city have in terms of defensive structures, Sergo?”
“Nearly four feet thick walls and eight towers.” Eight, Palo thought, was more than enough to surely compromise his victory. Remaining confident, Palo gave the order. “Execute the plan we talked about. The city is to remain as undamaged as possible. The palace is our main target, no doubt the King and his court will take refuge in Golden Tower. From there he can hold out with only a handful of guards.”
Nodding, the younger man left Palo. Was what he was fighting for really worth the lives of so many men, he thought? Is the right of the people to have enough to eat, to have adequate protection, and a word in their government worth a war? Whatever the answer was, it was too late. The first wave was already underway.
The Autarch Gader'al looked towards his advisors, further troubling news, Daria had taken a turn for the worse, the situation in that country was akin to a drunken old man, sways to and fro and any one fall would shatter a thousand bones. This merely compounded the bad news about Cessal and the Habyte.
And of course there was also Stiert, although the advisors had yet to compile a complete anylasis of that nation, the Harungen culture had greatly infulenced the place true, but some pieces of rational for certain traditions and thoughts were simplified or not present, the nation needed tuition and the Kings of Stiert needed to be cultivated to be good friends of the Harungen. It wouldn't be too hard to befriend them, or at the very least intimidate them.
In Daria also the Autarch had intrests, but the religious situation was wretched, early attempts to find some common cause between the Death Cult, Harugen Polytheists and Thenital had all failed. They all shared a common root of philosophy and ideas and if they could be convinced to find a common cause, that of Order and Stability, time would kill off some older religions. But what must be needed was a people willing to represent a majority of the people, and Harugen gold would go towards bribeing and attempting to create this state of affairs. Harugen must after all be a centre of tranquility from which all others are calmed and where such methods cannot be used the cancer of Chaos would have to be excised forcefully.
OOC: I must apologise I'm not really "doing" anything new, simply interacting and reacting to events. I should have a better dynamic after this next update once I've found my feet again.
And of course there was also Stiert, although the advisors had yet to compile a complete anylasis of that nation, the Harungen culture had greatly infulenced the place true, but some pieces of rational for certain traditions and thoughts were simplified or not present, the nation needed tuition and the Kings of Stiert needed to be cultivated to be good friends of the Harungen. It wouldn't be too hard to befriend them, or at the very least intimidate them.
In Daria also the Autarch had intrests, but the religious situation was wretched, early attempts to find some common cause between the Death Cult, Harugen Polytheists and Thenital had all failed. They all shared a common root of philosophy and ideas and if they could be convinced to find a common cause, that of Order and Stability, time would kill off some older religions. But what must be needed was a people willing to represent a majority of the people, and Harugen gold would go towards bribeing and attempting to create this state of affairs. Harugen must after all be a centre of tranquility from which all others are calmed and where such methods cannot be used the cancer of Chaos would have to be excised forcefully.
OOC: I must apologise I'm not really "doing" anything new, simply interacting and reacting to events. I should have a better dynamic after this next update once I've found my feet again.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
Lurker's Comment: Nylan, I'm afraid to say the song Duel of Fates doesn't exactly go with your story. It just... doesn't fit
My story's title lacks the use of the consonant "s", so I see no reason why they would fit in the first place.
EDIT: or the word "the" for that matter, something I distinctly remember being attributed to the song
Similar threads
