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TBNESIOT II - The Mists of Avalon

Work in Progress

Cedairnic Order of the Blessed Isles: [Marchofgion y Cedairn Ynysoedd Cysegredig]

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Map:

Spoiler :
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Government:
The Cedairnic Order is ostensibly a religious military order dedicated to the promulgation and defense of the Iesan faith. In practice, the Order is politically dominated by a collection of powerful ‘theocracities’ scattered across the isles. These cities, which are referred to as Prince-Bishopric (Tywysog-Esgobaeth[au]), promote and advance their individual interests at the Cyngor Mawr, or ‘Great Council,’ which convenes monthly in Biwmares Castle in the east of Ynys Mawr. The cities that are represented are the Prince-Archbishopric of Caersanctaidd and the Prince-Bishoprics of Llancilfach, Heglwysfrwd, Mhenllechi, Llwchmawr, Wygyrfach, Traethillyn, and Llantysilio, collectively known as the Wyth Ddinasoedd Mawr, or ‘Eight Great Cities.’ The Cyngor Mawr is headed by the Parchedig Brif, or ‘Chief Reverend,’ a figure who is elected for life by the Princes, Bishops and Archbishop whom comprise the council. Elections for the role of Parchedig Brif naturally take place upon the prior office holder’s death, and those eligible for the office are any of the incumbent Bishops and Archbishop of the Eight Great Cities. Whereas each of the Eight Great Cities is governed by their individual respective Prince and Bishop (or Archbishop in the case of Caersanctaidd), the remainder of the territory that comprises the Cedairnic Order, with one exception, is governed directly by and is under the immediate jurisdiction of the Parchedig Brif. The sole exception to this rule is the lesser isle of Ynysanctaidd, which, as befitting of its more cosmopolitan and outwards looking nature and of its mercantile tendencies, is ruled by a plutocratic council of its known as the Undeb Senedd, ‘Union Parliament,’ populated exclusively by the most prosperous merchants on the island. This haven of mercantile supremacism and other values that are seemingly counterintuitive to classical virtues espoused by the Iesan faith operates under the guise of a Bishopric of Greater Ynysanctaidd, and due to the profit of its mercantile ventures to the Order, is more or less ignored by the Cyngor Mawr when it comes to sin and avarice. As it is not officially a member of the Eight Great Cities and thus not a constituent able to send a delegate to the Cyngor Mawr, Greater Ynysanctaidd is allowed by the council to send a single observer delegate who has considerably lesser powers compared to the regular Princes and Bishops of the council, but who is allowed to promote the concerns of the island.

History:
The Blessed Isles after which the Cedairnic Order is named and on which it operates have lived through a long history of blissful ignorance and isolation, and are only just beginning to thaw from this period of lengthy loneliness. Despite the exceedingly short width of the Menai Strait and thus easy and rapid transit between the Isles and the mainland, referred to by the Order as the Dirbras, the inhabitants of the isles, known simply as the Ynyswry, or ‘Islanders’ (whereas its adjective form is ‘Ynyswr’), tended to historically keep away from the affairs on the mainland. This was almost entirely because the isles had much bigger and more pressing problems, as far as the Ynyswry were concerned.

Prior to the formation of the Cedairnic Order, or, more accurately, prior to its rise to prominence and power, the Blessed Isles were divided into a variety of distinct city-states whose identities, territories, and allegiances were in constant flux. In this very own warring states period, the Ynyswr were perfectly happy to fight each other rather than see what was going on in the outside world. This unstable, decentralized behavior continued for around a century with little resolution and few city-states holding supreme power for any substantial period of time.

The catalyst that would spur change from this period of infighting was twofold. The invasion of the Brewaldhayre and the migration of the Chainiren both prompted outwards glances from the Ynyswr and spread the seeds of a quickly growing fear that an invasion of a similarly massive scale could easily sweep aside and engulf the group of petty infighting city-states present on the isles. The problem was that, although cooperation appeared necessary, none of the political leaders or citizens of the city-states were very willing to cooperate. A history of isolation and mutual conflict as well as the lack of a clear Ynyswr identity at the time contributed to this deadlock in terms of negotiations and cooperation.

It was thus that the Cedairnic Order entered the equation. Thus far, the Order had no military connections or connotations, and was simply a monastic order localized to a small area around the Llyn Alaw. In this period of conflict between the city-states, the central and out of the way location of the Cedairnic Order left it isolated politically and geographically from the combatants, rendering the Order usually neutral and impartial in regards with diplomatic and other worldly affairs. Through careful diplomacy, as well as occasionally the less savory tactics of bribery and coercion, the Order was able to unite several cities across the island under the guise of religious unity. Indeed, at the time, the Iesan faith represented a majority of the Ynyswr peoples, and the newfound domination and unification of much of the isles by the Order was seen as subsequently justifiable. Additionally, this majority Iesan aspect of the Ynyswr allowed for the development of a cohesive Ynyswr identify, which would further expedite the Order’s unification of the isles. Once the Order had unified much of the isles, corresponding to the territories of six of the current Eight Great Cities (barring Traethillyn and Llancilfach), it was able to use its newfound economic and military power to subjugate the remainder of the island. From here, having united the Blessed Isles, the Order was able to maintain its power and stability as a state and religious order by espousing the necessity to have a strong and united backing for the Iesan faith. Resultantly, the religious backbone of the Ynyswr identify was even further reinforced, being that religion and a religious order offered the only source of unity and cohesion for the new Order.

From the unification, the Order has quietly developed itself by methodically codifying its religion and developing its fledgling armed forces and its relatively barren land. Recognizing the undesirability of their land, in recent years, the Order and the Isles have opened themselves up to trade with the outside world. As the process involves throwing away countless years of isolationist tradition and an extreme xenophobia developed by those years in solitude, many Ynyswr are wary of the mercantile ventures taken by the state and higher class and call for a return to isolation. Nonetheless, the sheer profit of foreign trade has made the Order unwilling to stop trade entirely, albeit taking the peoples’ concerns into moderate account with the restriction of foreign traders and merchants to certain designated trade quarters in a few select cities in the Order.

Nowadays, the Order is itself at a crossroads having exited its protected shell of isolationism. The vanguard of a growing, standardizing religion, the Order now also finds itself on the shores of a bustling [Irish Sea] now infested with merchants. And thus it is up to the new leadership of the Order to take its stance on the new world they find themselves in. To balance the tradition that dominates the Iesan religious identity of the Order and the Ynyswr people as well as the growing foreign influence and increasingly cosmopolitan identities of the Ynyswr cities will most definitely prove to be a challenging task, but if the Order can pull through and forge its own path, this task will very well prove to also be indubitably rewarding.

Location:
The Cedairnic Order operates exclusively on the islands of Ynys Mawr and Ynysanctaidd, ‘Great Island’ and ‘Holy Island’ respectively. These two isles are collectively referred to as either the Dual Isles or more colloquially, the Home Islands (Ynysoedd Deuol and Ynyses Dref in Pure Cymric and Camglian respectively).

Society:
Despite the nominally all-inclusive nature of the Iesan faith and its modest reach outside the Dual Isles, the Ynyswry habitually exhibit an intense xenophobia. Despite the increasing popularity and profitability from overseas and foreign trade, this deep-rooted and almost entirely unfounded distrust and poor opinion of foreigners pervades most, if not all, of the social strata of the Dual Isles, excepting to a certain degree the urban merchants whose livelihoods primarily depend on consistent, cordial interaction with foreigners.

The Order also exhibits incredibly clearly demarcated and solid social stratification. The highest and most powerful and influential class is known as the Ddynionuchel, or ‘Highmen.’ This class consists of two groups that upon first glance seem polar opposites, but whom actually operate in a comfortable symbiosis to further their mutual interests. The first are the leaders of the Iesan Church— the bishops and archbishops— whom act as effective political leaders of the Isles as well as perform their standard religious duties. The latter is the small but quickly growing merchant class, known as the Triniwrarian, or ‘Money Handlers.’ This group occupies an interesting spot in the stratified respect structure of Ynyswr society, as they are seen as brought down by having to deal with the ‘dirty work’ of transactions and meetings with foreigners, but are held in veneration because they control a great amount of capital and power in their hands across the isles. One step directly lower is the Rhaideilwng, or ‘Honorable Ones,’ who occupy the ‘middle class’ area in the Cedairnic Order. The Rhaideilwng consist roughly of the remaining clergymen scattered across the churches throughout the two islands as well as the Ynyswr artisans, specifically glassmakers, jewelers, smiths, and olive oil pressers. The bottom of Ynyswr society is occupied by the farmers, ranchers, fishermen, and other menial laborers who make up a majority of the Cedairnic population. This bottom-rung class is referred to as the Lleygion, or ‘Laity,’ immediately referencing their position in the church hierarchy of the Order.

The languages that are spoken on the Dual Isles— Pure Cymric and Camglian, or Cymraeg Pur and Caemesleg respectively— are also worth note. The relationship between these two languages parallels the dichotomy that exists within the social structure of the isles. Cymraeg Pur is traditionally the standard language of the Ddynionuchel, and represents a relatively unmuddled and, indeed, ‘pure’ derivative of Old Cymric, or Cymraeg Hen; Cymraeg Pur in the context of the Isles is thus presumably mutually intelligible to a reasonable extent with [whatever is spoken in Camm Ylladh] and [same with Foh]. Camglian, often referred to disparagingly as Dirty Cymric, or Cymraeg Budr by the Ynyswr upper echelons, is the bastard child of Cymraeg Hen and the eastern, once widespread language of English. As a result of its bipartisan heritage, Camglian is a much more fluid language than Pure Cymric, with often overlapping vocabulary that comes from both of its distant parent languages. Hence why Camglian is deemed impure by the Ddynionuchel and typically reserved for quotidian use by the Lleygion and lesser Rhaideilwng. However, the aforementioned standards for the usage of Camglian and Pure Cymric have become muddled over time, and recently Pure Cymric has become much more widespread, with every denizen of the Isles being able to understand the language, though Camglian remains the language used by the lower classes. What has seen a significant change is the interaction between these languages in terms of inter-strata communication. In a manner of reinforcing the social stratification of the islands, Ynyswr societal custom has grown to dictate that members of lower class, no matter how they speak in their daily lives, must address and converse their classwise superiors in Pure Cymric. This newfound prevalence of Pure Cymric combined with the common partial heritage of the two Ynyswr languages and the intimate extent of their mutual intelligibility has led some to suggest that Pure Cymric and Camglian could perhaps simply be dialects of the same language, the recently conjectured and coined Greater Cymric, or Cymraeg Mawr. This has occurred much to the discomfort and dismay of the Ddynionuchel, who wish to preserve their societal dominance and hence be adverse to any perceived challenge to this dominance, such as a shared language with the common people. Nonetheless, the arrangement of speaking Pure Cymric to one’s superiors does remain in the Cedairnic Order, and appears stable for the time being.

Religion:
The official state-sponsored, state-run religion of the Cedairnic Order is known as Iesanism, whereas the church that operates alongside the Order is simply known as the Iesan Church. Iesanism is a direct descendant of what was once Christianity, though the religion in its current form bears little resemblance to its ancestor. For starters, Iesanism considers Iesa, a direct evolution of Jesus, to be the immediate successor and child to the Iesan ideal of a combined God and Holy Spirit rather than considering the three coexistent at all times. In this case, the former God and Holy Spirit has now turned into a single Old God in Iesanism that is referred to by the Church as Yr Arglwydd Hen.

One of the key aspects of Iesanism that has helped its growth and its survival given its humble origins on one of the poorer and smaller islands in [whatever the British Isles are called] is its unique methodology and reasoning for and behind the idea of manifestation of Iesa and idolatry. To the Church, Iesa is, as per its divinity, able to manifest itself in any number of conceivable forms, anywhere, at any time; he is even able to appear in any number of distinct appearances at the same time. This has directly led to a tradition of idolatry within the order, as Iesanism considers any representation of Iesa to embody some part of it and its manifestation and thus to be holy. This idea of manifestation similarly gives the Iesan faith a surprising amount of tolerance and flexibility when it comes to other religions. The old idea of heresy has been replaced by an idea of alternative interpretation. As a result, the Order, compared to more traditional representations of theocratic orders, welcomes nearly all other religions as comrades under Iesa, even if the inclusivity is not mutual.

This accepting of idols and ideal of manifestation and representation has led to a powerfully intertwined tradition of both community and home worship. Any devout Iesanist will faithfully attend church as well as have a small shrine in his or her home full of idols representing various aspects of Iesa. This is true for Iesanists of all social strata on the Isles and acts as a powerful cultural and religious binding force for the Church. Given the emphasis on personal home worship assigned by these ubiquitous in-house shrines, it may appear that the authority of the Church and of the Order might be lessened, but the regularity of church rituals and the teachings of the clergy still occupies an important part in the religious identify of Iesanists.

Economy:
A look at the countryside of the Dual Isles offers a rather plain insight into the nature of the Cedairnic economy. With the exception of the cities, which represent an entirely different, but substantially smaller part of the Ynyswr economy, both islands are covered with farms and fields as far as the eye can see. Cattle and sheep farming occupy a comfortable portion of Ynyswr land. As for actual crops, given the relatively poor soil quality on the Isles, potato and barley farms are relatively less common compared to livestock ranches, but still occupy a significant and important part of the Cedairnic economy. An ancient relic that is almost unique to the isles among all of [Britain and Ireland] that contributes to the Isles’ mercantile value and is a rich export is the exotic tree and fruit of the olive. Olive groves can be found dotted along the northern coast of Ynys Mawr, and their fruits and oil act as a valuable commodities throughout the Order and its neighbors. Additionally, the fine ports dotted around the isles offer good opportunity for fishing, and several Ynyswr make their livings by hauling in conger eels, lobsters, oysters, and a variety of fish. Another relatively common seaside occupation is the production of salt from seawater, a profitable job in the Order.

Non-food related production is few and far between in the Order. The most prominent industries on the island are glassmaking, which exists in some of the larger cities, jewelry production which utilizes the jasper common on the southwest of Ynys Mawr, and the mining, smelting, and smithing of copper that is common to the north of Ynys Mawr.

Person Names:

Place Names:
-Great Britain: Dirbras
-Ireland: Horllewdden
-Holy Island: Ynysanctaidd
-Anglesey: Ynys Mawr
-Llangefni: Llancilfach
-Holyhead: Caersanctaidd
-Porthaethwy: Heglwysfrwd
-Benllech: Mhenllechi
-Amlwch: Llwchmawr
-Cemaes: Wygyrfach
-Rhosneigr: Traethillyn
-Llanfairpwllgwyngyll: Llantysilio
 
Unfortunately I can't keep up with this IOT and with my exams at the same time, and I want to devote a lot of attention to this one once I get the chance. Sorry for the incovenience everyone, but I hope that I will be able to re - join at some point in which I will have more time
 
Unfortunately I can't keep up with this IOT and with my exams at the same time, and I want to devote a lot of attention to this one once I get the chance. Sorry for the incovenience everyone, but I hope that I will be able to re - join at some point in which I will have more time

I'm using your faction anyway. Feel free to give me a general idea of how you saw them progressing, and I'll keep that in mind for their actions.
 
I apologize for the delay, but here is a small taste of the update, which is almost certainly tomorrow.

but that was not to last. A sea lord, yrald, known to men and gods as the white wolf, sailed to man and grew jealous of it’s wealth. Bidding his time, he spent years travelling the isles, gathering men and ships to his banner, that of the vouk, promising them more wealth, prestige, and women then they could ever imagine. All manner of men gathered beneath him, and for a time the entire coast shook at the mention of the vouk, who would slaughter and rape their way through entire villages on a whim.

Finally, yrald deemed himself ready. He sailed the vouk, his flagship, leaving his fleet out at sea, to the steel market, the heart of pirate’s bay, where it is said that every captain sails at least once a year, to make his first move.

In the rusty innards of the great ancient ship the market was built into, and in the dark twisted canals and alleys dark deals were struck. The black dynasty, pretenders to the manx throne, sought to use this wolf as a tamed attack dog. Under false pretences, they brought yrald to man, promising him great wealth if he would put them on the throne.

But a wolf is not a tamed dog, and they were deceived. Yrald himself put an axe through the head of abban, the self proclaimed “hammer of dowan.” signalling his fleet, yrald began to ravage the island. First to fall was the bank, as yrald coveted it’s wealth. Only once the stone fortress of the bank was secure did yrald move to capture the queen of the island and make her his woman.

He found her dead, having fallen on her sword rather than suffer his vagaries, and no sign of her younger brother ivan, or his wife, iney. It seemed that in the orgy of looting and violence, and desire to capture the wealth of the bank, many of the nobility had made their escape.

While most of those escapees, including the new king, made their way to the mainland colonies, not all did, and word spread quickly to most of the isles that man had fallen, and with it the bank. Though there was much jubilation in the land of the jews, who themselves controlled a bank to rival that of man, most felt a twinge of fear. Who would be next?

For now, yrald seems content to rule the island, selling its natives as slaves and launching the occasional raid against the coastlines, and ivan sits, the “beggar king,” liking his wounds and beseeching the pirate lords for a loan with which to hire the ships to recapture his lost land and have vengeance for his sister.
 
Sexy stuff Thomas, looking forward to the full thing.
 
Update 0 - June 2015 to ???
Broken Things and Bent Pages



Link to video.

Beggar Kings and Pirate Kings

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The fall left the Island of Man in a better situation than most other peoples. Largely self sufficient, and disconnected from the starving hordes of the mainland, though it was, Man was still thrown into a century of Darkness.

In that time, it is said that the Fae of old reclaimed the forests from humanity, that trolls once again came to lurk under the bridges and in the old buildings, and that the particularly unlucky wandering out at night might come across the Moddey Dhoo, who would steal the very breath from their chest. Many a Manx disappeared, and people knew better than to look too hard for them. In any case, it became customary for the Manx to leave small offerings of milk outside their door on significant nights.

There are songs of the heroes of old reappearing to the worthy, and from among those vaunted ranks emerged a great leader, Machonna Faragher, who spoke with the voice of a god. The messenger of Manannan wandered the island with legend and story, teaching and uniting the people behind him. His teachings, which, together, came to be known as Raad, united the Manx as they had not been in a hundred years.

But even the voice of a God must die, and for a time the unity of the island was again lost. Again, darkness overcame the island, but again a strong leader rose, who at sword point and charismatic words won over the chieftains of the island. Declaring himself a descendant of the Ancient Gods, he ruled the Island wisely, and so did his son after him.

It was in this time that the Bank of the Manx was founded, as trade again came to man from all the peoples of the Isles. Quickly becoming a political entity in it’s own right, the Bank over the generations urged the kings to establish colonies on the mainland of both Ireland and England.

Through the strife and turmoil of succession after succession, dynasty after dynasty, the Bank endured and prospered, always willing to lend some more money to profitable investments and working to oppose threats to its own supremacy.

But that was not to last. A sea lord, Yrald, known to men and gods as the White Wolf, sailed to Man and grew jealous of it’s wealth. Bidding his time, he spent years travelling the Isles, gathering men and ships to his banner, that of the Vouk, promising them more wealth, prestige, and women then they could ever imagine. All manner of men gathered beneath him, and for a time the entire coast shook at the mention of the Vouk, who would slaughter and rape their way through entire villages on a whim.

Finally, Yrald deemed himself ready. He sailed the Vouk, his flagship, leaving his fleet out at sea, to the Steel market, the heart of Pirate’s bay, where it is said that every captain sails at least once a year, to make his first move.

In the rusty innards of the great ancient ship the market was built into, in the dark twisted canals and alleys dark deals were struck. The black dynasty, Pretenders to the Manx throne, sought to use this wolf as a tamed attack dog. Under false pretences, they brought Yrald to Man, promising him great wealth if he would put them on the throne.

But a wolf is not a tamed dog, and the pretenders were deceived. Yrald himself put an axe through the head of Abban, the self proclaimed “Hammer of Dowan.” Signalling his fleet, Yrald began to ravage the Island. First to fall was the Bank, as Yrald coveted it’s wealth. Only once the Stone fortress of the bank was secure did Yrald move to capture the Queen of the Island and make her his woman.

He found her dead, having fallen on her sword rather than suffer his vagaries, and no sign of her younger brother Ivan, or his wife, Iney. It seemed that in the orgy of looting and violence, and desire to capture the wealth of the bank, many of the nobility had made their escape.

While most of those escapees, including the new king, made their way to the mainland colonies, not all did, and word spread quickly to most of the Isles that Man had fallen, and with it the bank. Though there was much jubilation in the land of the Jews, who themselves controlled a bank to rival that of Man, most felt a twinge of fear. Who would be next?

For now, Yrald seems content to rule the island, selling its natives as slaves and sipping his wine from a goblet made from the skull of the former queen, and Ivan lurks, the “Beggar King,” licking his wounds and beseeching the pirate lords for a loan with which to hire the ships to recapture his lost land and have vengeance for his sister.

The Great Ardhyr

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There is a figure that unites all the people of Wales, no matter how far from their ancestral hills they may be. To the people of Kimraeragwaddyfoh he is a god, to the people of Camm Yllad he is an ultimately mortal hero, and to the Chāinìrén, he is the old man, the first Disciple of Jidu.

Ardhyr himself has passed into legend, but in all the stories (though only hinted at in the Chainiren stories) a unifying thread exists. A disorganized and feuding people caught up in their petty hatreds threatened by a vast and vile horde, whose evil was so great that it caused the gods to strip the world of it’s magic.

Ardhyr, it is said, forged from the disunited people and even the animals and trees and fae a last great army. His boon companions, worthy warriors all travelled the land, performing good deeds and finding holy and ancient artifacts, and finally the enemy was defeated.

Much of the lands were spoiled and polluted by the corruption spread by the defeated horde, and unfit to farm, though much of that corruption has since mostly faded. And so Ardhyr decreed that half of the welsh would return home, but that the other half must move on and find a new home. It is here that the stories diverge. The People of Camm Yllad claim that he returned home to rule them wisely, until his betrayal and death at the hand of a trusted friend, while the Kimrek claim that he led them as a god to their new home, and shaped the land to make it like that they had lost to the corruption. The Chainiren are in accord with the people of Camm Yllad to a point: They beleive that Ardhyr ruled for a time, but in his age and wisdom gave up his power and wandered the roads and hills of Wei as a teacher until he met Jidu.

Life has not changed much for the people of Wales in the past few centuries. Peasants farm and herd sheep, miners mine, craftsmen craft, and, whether it’s in the pagodas of the Chianiren or the halls of the Lords of Camm Yllad, life goes on. The Warriors of Camm Yllad roam the isles, searching for holy relics of the Gods and helping those in need, and the Chianiren slowly exert their will over more and more land.

And, to their north, a forbidden and long thought haunted land is slowly opening up to the world. The Cedairnic order, the rulers of the elusive inhabitants of Ynys Mawr and Ynysanctaidd, who had long ordered the execution of any outsider setting foot on their sacred lands, have begun to allow traders access to their goods, recognizing that there was a growing need for access to the outside world.

The Once and Lost City.

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There was once a great city, the center of the world before the fall, from which the ancient sorcerers plied their arts. It is said that this city was a utopia, paradise on earth, where none could suffer, that all who lived there had tamed the lightning of the sky and the waters of the rivers, and that the very gods bowed to it’s might. It is also said that this city was the heart of the Fall, and the hardest struck. The Spirits of death, starvation, and disease roamed the city freely, claiming in revenge many for their weeping retinue as the Sorceries that once kept them out failed.

Only a few people escaped them, building what they could amongst the ruins of the lost world.

The most lucky were clearly the Sylheti, who, poor as they were, brought with them a strong united faith and secrets that the Ancient’s sorceries had made useless and that most Englishmen had forgotten. Fleeing south, the Sylheti welcomed many of the starving and destitute into their arms and their faith, which they felt kept them safe from the vagaries of evil. Finally, they came to the ancient city of Kanthapur, from which the Ancient Prophet Muhammad had preached his faith from the black rock housed within the great Mosque.

From there, the sylheti slowly grew, sending trade missions, colonial missions, and religious missions. Their wealth and success brought them great influence, as many recognized that Allah was powerful in keeping his chosen people free from supernatural and mundane threats.

It was only on the Isle of Wight that the Sylheti faith was found wanting. The explorers found the island empty, quiet, with not even the call of a bird. The Sudman, off the coast of whom the island lay refused to sail anywhere near, and spoke of it in terror. Though unnerved, the sylheti built a colony there. For years it thrived, and many came to the island, including a great Scillonian mission who built a walled monastery from which to preach. Tolerated by the Moslems, the Scillonians lived peacefully, with very little interaction with the rest of the island. Bird song rang from the trees, and children played in the woods.

Then, one day, ships docking at the island found it completely empty and quiet. Setting ashore, they carefully explored, checking home after empty home, and discovering the bodies of the colonist, all dead, with blood streaming from their eyes. The door to the Mosque hung on a single hinge, and a splatter of blood marred the wall. It was not until they arrived at the Scillonian monastery, high in the hills, that they found survivors, five hundred strong, all of whom refused to speak of what had happened, whispering only “Dead things in the water.”

Since then, the Sylheti of the Island have adopted the Scillonian faith, swearing that it’s symbols remain the only thing standing between the Isles and the annihilation that overwhelmed the rest of the world.

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To the north of the great city escaped a great confederation of people, Slavs, with a faith similar, but different from that of most of the Island.

Many other Englishmen escaped the city, too, settling with more of their people as far from the Roaming apocalyptic spirits as they could.

But a small number survived the rampage by hiding. The heirs of the Ancestors, descendants of the gods wielded the sorceries that kept the city pure, the Spirelings still make their homes high above the ground in skeletal steel spires which still stand tall and proud. Jealously guarding the city from interlopers, Spireling raiding parties are known for being able to strike with no warning but a glass tipped arrow accompanied by ululating howls.

Despite that, Spirelings are generally very friendly on the rare occasions they leave the spires to trade. Skilled artisans, the Spirelings work the crafts of the ancients into unique and intricate art. Though poorly understood by outsiders, Spirelings have a complex society, with tribes interacting in highly ritualized manners and led by “Knowers,” individuals who have mastered some of the secrets of the Ancestors.


The Heavenly Clockmaker

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The Spirelings are not the only ones who claim to hold some of the lost secrets of the ancestors. within the hallowed halls of the ancient citadel of learning known as Cambridge, Scholars and Masters peruse dusty tomes and debate esoteric lore. The speak in hushed and reverential terms of “The Method” with which the secret workings of the world may be laid bare. The Fellows of the Society, especially those elected as councilmen, hold tight to the belief that they simply need to understand the world, and they can themselves master the magic and sciences of the past.

The Plebs of the society hold a very different view: They know that the Divine Architecture is just that, Divine, and that the workings of the world are unknowable to man as it is today. The ability to enslave the architecture has been stripped from mankind for it’s hubris, and to look to do so is an exercise in futility. Many look at the actions of the fellows with faint amusement, though are grateful for the protection exerted over them.

The Promised Land

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In the very heart of England live an ancient family who rule over an even more ancient people. The Rothschilds of New Jerusalem have ruled these lands since before the fall, powerful and rich even as the world crumbled around them.

Wise and benevolent rulers, even with the depravity of the world around them, the Rothschild dynasty, descendants of Solomon of old and heir to his kingdom, sheltered those in need, and in the chaos of the fall, that was many.

The Jews of Central England are not unlike their neighbors in most ways, prefering a simple life without many frills and curlicues, and, aside for a number of strict rules on diet, enjoy good lives.

Of late, however, tensions have begun to mount between the people, the Monarchy, and the increasingly reactionary clergy, as debate rises over which texts and interpretations of the old laws apply to the Jews. These debates are not helped by the influx of foreign faiths, particularly the Muslims of the south, who meet and proselytize in hidden corners, in direct disrespect of the Idolatry laws.

And yet, even the wisdom of the Rabbis and the Rothschilds cannot heal the wounds left when a pack of wolves steal a baby from it’s bed.

The Watchers on the Wall

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The Knights of the wall know that, like with the deluge of yor, the greed and pride of man pushed God to punish mankind with the Fall. Sickened as he was by the great constructions that paved the land with black death and the wretched spires that spewed poison into the air to fuel the avariciousness despoiling the garden of Eden, God stripped away mankind’s ability to twist the world, and chained it’s evil beneath the great ice prisons of the north. But he was deceived, and Mankind sought to free these chained beasts, and slowly, the evil wore away at the prisons, finally escaping in a great rush of water.

Some men, Brave Knights, loyal servants of the divine, had received warnings from the Archangel Gabriel who told to take those who were faithful from Faxfleet and away from the water. As they watched in Horror and self-righteous satisfaction, great walls of water swept the wicked out to sea, drowning them in a wave of their own making.

Knowing, then, that God had chosen them to lead the New World, the Knights of the Temple swept down onto the Humber river valley, taking city after city and forging from them four great fortresses, linked by uncountable miles of high stone wall patrolled by Sworn Knight brothers. This wall extends even across the River, a fearsome gate through which no ship may pass except with the permission of the Knights of the Wall.

No Goods, be it mead and wine from the Pagan Welsh of Kimrek or smoking weed and barrels of butter from the Anglican Shirelings, may pass without a Tax levied by the Knights, who know in the depths of their hearts, that they stand steadfast guardians of the world, Ensuring that Avariciousness never again holds sway in the hearts of men.

Men of the North

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While many in the south claim to be the heirs of secrets of the Old world, it is only in the north that Men claim to hold the legacy of the ancient Rule of the Isles. The scottish heaths, trampled by Nucklavea and gouged by Hobgoblin and Boggart, are the site of a conflict that predates the fall.

To the House of Windsor, ruling from their ancestral homes at Balmoral, the British Isles, from the western shore of Hibernia to the Eastern Shore of Kanthapur, already belong to them, and are waiting only for the heralded return of their Once and Future Queen, She who has already appeared as the Maiden, who ruled Britain in it’s infancy, and the Mother, who Ruled Britain at it’s height and mothered all the people of the Islands, and the Crone, who led the Islands safely through the fall, and who will return to as the Warrior Queen to bring all her wayward children together and pierce the mist with her sword, to exert their will on their wayward subjects.

To their South, the Kingdom of the Holy Rood fiercely defend their independence, proclaiming themselves free from the Southern Tyranny, though those words ring hollow when the threat comes from the north.

But, these are the affairs of strong and powerful men in their high stone keeps, and the lives of the common man is not changed by these words overly. Farming and herding sheep is a simple life, though a hard one, and there is always the threat of Highlander raiders sweeping down out of the craggy heights to take away what little the lowlanders have.

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These are not the only threats, of course. Though learned men scoff at the thought, people know what lurk in the waters and the dark nooks of the moor. They know that a strong man, or a clever one, can trick a silkie into slipping out of it’s skin and becoming a beautiful woman who will marry him and give him a happy life and many beautiful children, but, with time away from the sea, will wither away in sorrow until he frees her or she throws herself without her seal skin into the water to drown. They know the rules to learn the names of the dieing if they come across the Bean Nighe, and the islanders know better than to go out after nightfalls on certain days of the year, lest the encounter the fearsome knucklevea.

Even the Hardmen of Clydia ascribe to the old rules in their odd and particular way, leaving the weak and sickly out as offerings for forces few understand.

On Inse Gall, they know that the offerings to the many gods and spirits of the seas and skies and heaths at their four festivals keep them safe on their long trading, and raiding missions.

Though the Islanders and the Helvikens of Orkney speak different languages and worship different gods, the are very similar in many ways, though both would take that as a grievous insult. Both depend on their ships, and, unlike the sea people to the south, to whom a ship is nothing but a very useful tool, they know that their ships are alive, have a spirit, and a personality that must be placated. They know that their ornately decorated ships are as much a part of their crew, their family, as their children are.


The River Lords

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The mist, which serves as wall and warden to the British Isles, is far out at sea for most of the inhabitants, sometimes far out of sight and sometimes shifting closer, but always giving people enough space to sail comfortably. That is not the life of the Mistmen of Western Ireland.

To them the Mist is an ever present menace, cloaking the land with it’s wet veils, threatening their very being. It is a hungry god, into whose maw victims vanish to never return. The Mistfolk, in fear and awe have learned to placate its appetite, offering sacrifices in exchange for safety. The Mistfolk’s entire society is based on this regular sacrifice, and the acquisition thereof.

The young, the pure, and the old, the wise, are the preferred gifts, as the wisemen have seen that that is what pleases the Mist the most. And so, at need they will give their own to the mist, but in general prefer to raid into the rest of Ireland to steal their people to give to the mist.

The Hibernians, naturally, did not take kindly to this wanton raiding, and slowly organized into warbands with which to repel those preying on them. Building great stone holdfasts and monasteries, the Hibernians fought back, and an uneasy peace remains, broken regularly by either side, seeking some advantage over the other.

It is only along the rivers that the Hibernian Holds organized, to better control the trade that flowed through the Island and to the greater British World. Three distinct trade leagues vie for control, Jockeying amongst each other for power over the length of the Sane river.

MAP:
Spoiler :
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NOTES:

I’ll write up a religious and cultural post soon to put in the first post, but for now, know this: The Old Gods is a catchall, and varied, term for the seemingly related faiths that span much of the Isles. Though different regions have different traditions and names for gods, ultimately, there are few solid differences between, say, the Raad traditions of the Manx and the Four Festivals of Innse Gall and the Earth-Mother of the Ctonan confederation.

Feel free to join up as an NPC, or in the empty spaces.
 
Great stuff! Looking forward to seeing where this goes.
 
I wish to confess my failing to keep interest with the thread and as such will be resigning from this game.
 
ayyy lomo
 
So, in what format are you wanting orders/when are you wanting them?
 
Can I still join?
 
Garedh shivered on his horse. His cloak was sodden in the rain, and the water streamed off his horse's back as they plodded along the dirt path. The last village they had passed was two days back, and the young Rhydh found himself missing the smokey peat fire of the inn.

Beside him, Borhce kicked up his horse. Somehow, he managed to keep himself seated tall upon his destrier, nobly looking out over the path. On some level, Garedh knew he ought to emulate the older Rhydh, but somehow, at this moment, he could do nothing but slump into his saddle.

"I think I'm going to die of a fever," he muttered to himself.

"Unlikely, though I wouldn't miss your complaining," Borhce replied. Fercille silently cursed the older man's hearing. "Try to cheer up - you're doing holy work here."

"While I'm sure the intent behind pacifying Ycwancee for the Cennegh is ultimately a noble one," the young man grumbled, "I feel like it might be better served by doing something other than riding back and forth between peasant villages."

"Not exciting enough for you, then? What were you expecting, to ride down evildoers every other day? A maiden to warm your bed every night?"

Garedh sneezed. "Honestly? Yes. Yes I was. Maybe not the bit about the maidens," he said. Privately, he noted that the maidens had featured heavily in his expectations when he had become a Rhydh, but Borhce would only tease him for it. "But yes, riding down evildoers was a part of it."

"Get used to it, lad," Borhce grunted. "Being a Rhydh means service. There's more to Cymrhuee than just self aggrandaisment and slaughter. When you slay an evildoer to defend the weak, sure, thats Cymrhuee alright. But when your Cennegh says to ride out to Ycwancee to defend the peace in a newly conquered land, well, that's Cymrhuee too. You don't get to pick and choose."

"Look, its just that when someone says 'defend the peace', I think actual work. Not damn well patrolling the back hills of the muddiest place in the Isles."

"Pretty sure I said the exact same thing when I became a Rhydh," Borhce laughed. "Look lad, I wouldn't worry-"

The air was rent by a sudden scream. The voice was feminine, yet it was loud enough to pierce the fog and the rain. Bohrce didn't say a word, and nodded. Garedh couched his lance, and charged.

The bandits - that was what they must be, thought Garedh as he charged past - had heard him. Borhce rode one down in his first charge, and leaped off his horse to engage the other. One was left, but he parried Garedh's clumsy charge with his shield and grinned. Garedh turned his horse around, couching his lance for another charge. A young woman, pretty by the immediate look of it, was sprawled on the ground in the mud. The bandit stood near her, clad in dirty furs and weilding a wicked looking axe and shield. There was no time to think or get off his horse. Garedh kicked in his spurs, and charged again.

"Watch it!" he heard the damsel scream, and heard the rustle of fabric moving out of the way in the corner of his vision. As he crashed into the bandit, he saw a brief grin, as they tumbled into eachother. Garedh felt himself falling off his horse, but he rolled into the fall and got up, scrabbling to draw his blade. The bandit was in worse shape, but staggered up, heavily favouring his left side and breathing shallowly.

"Camm Ylladh!" Garedh screamed, and launched himself into the bandit, cleaving into his head with his sword before he could react. Wordlessly, the bandit fell, and Garedh stopped, to see his horse standing a little aways, and Borhce wiping the blood off his blade with a cloth.

"Exciting enough for you?" the old Rhydh grunted, sheathing his sword.

Garedh turned to the young woman. "My lady," he said, bowing and remembering his courtesies. He extended a hand to her. On closer inspection, the young woman was indeed very pretty - her raven hair framed a heart shaped face, but beneath the mud she looked flushed.

"If you are going to rescue me," she snapped, ignoring Garedh's hand and picking herself up, "you would do well not to try to kill me while doing it. It defeats the point." She dusted herself off, but the mud had already stained the beautiful silks she was wearing. She merely sighed. "These are my rescuers? An old man and his barely shaving page? Wonderful. Now this is just embarrassing."

Garedh's face grew hot. "Watch who you are speaking to, woman," he growled. "I am a Rhydh, not a mere page, and that is Borhce the Great, Rhydh of Dhennay, slayer of the Giant of Ycarh -"

"Shut up," growled Bohrce. "She's clearly not impressed. He wasn't a real giant anyway, he was just a very tall man." The old Rhydh bowed before the young woman, ignoring her demeanour. "As my companion Garedh says, I am Borhce. Are you unharmed?"

"I'm fine, no thanks to your fool friend," the woman said, folding her arms. "My name is Llynedh. I have urgent news for Cennegh Fercille. These men were sent by the Red Rhydh to waylay me on my mission. I come from the hall of the Lardha Llynnece of Ghillagh, whose lands are besieged by the Red Rhydh. She calls upon the Cennegh's Peace."

-------

I wanted to write a little something for this, so I guess it'll be an ongoing story probably dissasociated from the actual updates and definitely disjoint from it. I like Arthurian stuff, as you may be able to guess. :p
 
Grandkhan, you are the best!

AS PER MOST NESES, STORIES AND OTHER CONTENT WILL BE REWARDED
 
I will take up the Mist Folk.
 
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