Gods of Men [Civilization RP+Magic]

[Embluss]

Intro
Hello, and welcome to Gods of Men, the Guild's newest civilization roleplay. I’m Embluss, and I’ll be Co-running this with Harpy Queen (who I will continue to call Claws for the foreseeable future). We’ve run countless Civilization roleplays together... elsewhere on the internet. This one has stone-age tech, non-present divinity, and magic. Lots of magic. We're looking for roleplayers of decent quality. If you can't eke out at least a few paragraphs or so of proper english, this probably isn't the thread for you.

No in-character intro. Not necessary in the Genre.

Seems to be about it...

Oh, right. I’m the “mean” one . Cl... Err, Harpy Queen is the nice one. Have fun!

OOC/Bios Thread:
http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...and-Bio-Thread



Rules

1. DO NOT annoy the GMs if denied. We had all sorts of problems with this on our old forums. We hope we don’t have to deal with it here.

2. ASK QUESTIONS if you are unfamiliar with Civilization Roleplays. If you need clarification on tech development, warfare, conquest, or anything else, talk to us.

3. BASIC ROLEPLAYING rules always apply.

4. PG-13, BROS! However, timeskips hinting at content violating this rule are perfectly acceptable.

5. WE ARE NOT OOC NAZIS. Feel free to post some OOC with your IC posts, if it is related to the ongoing thread events. Indicate OOC with ((Text)). Substantial or solely OOC posts still belong on our OOC thread.

6. YES, there are gods in this thread. The definition used here will be “sentient deposit of magic, above an arbitrary, undefined threshold of power”. These gods are neither omnipotent nor omniscient. An omnipotent and omniscient God may or may not exist in this universe. So, go crazy. Please do not import real-world religions. We’d like to avoid any possible conflicts (and you should be creative anyway).

7. The gods mentioned above are not physically present in the universe. They are spirits, able to intervene through magic or summon avatars. They just can’t take physical forms.



Bio Sheet

Spoiler

Race Name:
Physical:
Magical:

Nation Name:
Leaders:
Population:
Races:
Capital:
Starting Area:
Government:
Religion(s):
Brief History:
Misc:

Don’t care if you non-bio. Don’t care if you modify. Just give us the info.

Magic

Nerd Explanation

Spoiler

Magic is neither a property of atoms, nor molecules (and/or polyatomic ions), but an emergent property resulting from specific arrangements of trillions of parts, most notably in higher-order life forms. In certain instances, it behaves similarly to a particle (Magicka may only be expended in multiples of an exceedingly small number), but it can be generally compared to a charge (albeit, on a much larger scale; charge is measured at the ionic level, whereas magic is measured on a material scale). Magical laws approximating the arrangement of energies (the equivalent of oxidation numbers for charge, AP students :P) are yet to be fleshed out, but are theoretically possible to arrive at through in-character development (assuming your nation cares...)

Some of Magic’s ties to life are quite complex. Living things generally produce a constant flow of magical energies, which generally emanate outwards. The amount correlates loosely to activity, both mental and physical. Some life forms, particularly sentient beings, produce abnormally high levels of magical energy, when compared to their calorie burn and mental activity. These creatures are typically of species with magical talents, whether they be of the innate variety, or the more complex, ritualistic schools. Incredibly, among many of these species (nearly exclusively sentient), this magical excess increases (sometimes rather dramatically) over generations of heavy magical use, and may also decrease over generations of little use. Changes in the individual’s supply over a lifetime, though present, are much less marked. It is even noted that languages (spoken or written), tools, and other constructs can benefit from a similar mechanic. If a language is frequently used for magic, it becomes more attuned to the flow of energies. The same may go for tools and constructs. As a result, many ancient languages and artifacts are powerful conduits for the use of magic.

No non-living material produces magic naturally. However, organic materials (such as deadwood, feces, bone, and so on), metals, and gemstones are able to hold a stable amount of magic. The underlying principle of this property is saturation; materials are able to hold an amount of magic within a specific range only. Below this range, they absorb energies from their environment. Above this range, they release energies, gradually or violently. Changes in physical state (gas, solid, so on) may result in anomalies, wherein a material is stable outside its range.

Layman’s Explanation

Spoiler

Oh, please. If you’re here, you’re a nerd. So go read the correct explanation.

Types of Magic

Spoiler

As below. May also be “Worldy”, wherein the power originates from the mortal world, or “Divine”, wherein a god or spirit functions as the power source, often with control over the effects of the spell. Note that these are not the only possible types; feel free to create your own. (Yes, Fus-Ro-Dah is completely acceptable.)

Innate:

Spoiler

Innate magics, though diverse, are classified based on shared qualities. In this variant, the energy is drawn from or through the caster and released in some form. In other types of magic, the energies may never pass through the caster (most rituals) or be stored in an object (enchantments). Almost all forms of innate magic are worldly, but very rarely will an individual be endowed with a magical ability that they can call upon as desired (unless their access to it is blocked or stripped away) from a god. There are also some beings that have highly concentrated magic in them, or at least a part, which have valued uses in magic. In animals, innate magic can be sporadic and used reflexively.

Spell-Script:

Spoiler

Magic imbued into written words. Unlike most forms of magic, because spell-script comes in a physical form and is passive until activation, spell-script magic can be sold and used even by non-magical practitioners. When using divine magic with spell-script, the creator of the spell writes in the form of a prayer and lets the god interpret it in use for the situation. Some spells are only one-use, but others can be used multiple times before wearing out. In writing a spell-script, the magic generally (but does not always) pass through the caster, but is always deposited in the script. When cast, the script or mage may provide the energy, which may then either be released or stored, making Spell-Scripts one of the most diverse classes of spells.

Ritual:

Spoiler

Ritual magic is simple enough for smaller purposes, but once the magic becomes more complex the process becomes exacting and disastrous if messed up. It relies on the magical potency of certain objects along with the caster(s), often arranged in a manner to draw out and combine the magic to fuel more powerful spells. The energies involved generally (but not always) arise outside the caster(s) and are consumed/stored, rather than released.

Enchantment:

Spoiler

Enchantment is the practice in which a magical practitioner may imbue an object or substance with magic for an indeterminate amount of time with an intent in mind. For enchantments performed by divine magic, the spell typically has only one use or is permanent, the latter of which is impossible with worldly magic. It is very important for an artificer to know what enchantments an object may have before performing any more on it, as carelessly layering enchantments - especially if they’re not compatible - is very dangerous.

Further in-depth magical rules will be established as we roleplay.

Really, every time I touch this post the spoilers get screwed up >.>

[Embluss]

Arvoend-Et Empire
Eighty-four men marched through the night, four abreast. The skies were overcast and the night absolute, but to the Haeviri it was as the height of day. They held no illusions of stealth, knowing that they were shining like the sun, surrounded by the empty barrenness of the desert around them. This was, in part, why they drew out drums and rattles as they approached, red-stained banner overhead.

Whether it was the parading or the glow, the villagers met them at the edge of the small desert settlement. They stood in cowed silence as the leader of the band cried out, "By order of the Emperor Veiran Taa'indrel, a levy is demanded of people and villages of the northern provinces."

There were a few rebellious grumbles in reply, but he carried on, "Single file! One mark from each household, half a mark from unwedded men!"

...

The pile of stone coins had already grown large when the poorest of farmers came forward. Eager to be gone, the agent ordered, "One mark".

"My wife is no longer in the world. The tax is half a mark!"

"One. Mark."

Nervously, the farmer answered, "I have only half a mark."

"You will give us your goat."

"I settled a debt with that goat, sir. It is mine no more." the poor man answered, quaverring now.

The man nodded haltingly as he was asked, "You have never had a donkey, pig, cow, nor land beyond your natural plot?" Dissatisfied, the officer continued, "Do you have a son?"

"None since you took my Rel."

With growing irritation, the leader asked, "A daughter, perhaps?"

Breaking down, the man answered, "You... You cannot take her. I have no other children born of my... my wife."

"The law is the law."

Baring his neck and constraining tears, the farmer gave his reply. "Then I will die."

The officer stood in silence for a moment. After a short reflection, he began to reach for a stone knife.

He had loosened leather constraints and was coiling for a strike as a third voice rang out, sweet and young.

"Father, I will go."

"No! Bea, you..."

Even as arms closed around her, dragging her off into the night, she yelled back, with far less confidence than she asked of her father, "I will be fine! Live!"


Holdings of the Elosin Temple
Vollin Giose, brother of Patriarch Caleos, strode into the Grand Temple, a massive complex of wood, stone, and clay at the core of Nellinalta. Lower priests performed various ceremonies throughout the many courtyards and chapels, but he moved with a purpose towards the very center of the temple. Circling the holy place, where only the Patriarch could stand, he approached one of the spirit-places surrounding it.

The shrine was devoted to the Spirit Ulhumen, among the mightiest of those in the service of the Creator. Known as the patron of mages, Ulhumen was adored by the Haeviri. Vollin Giose, being both a mage and a priest, was particularly devoted to the powerful of the One's vassals.

As he entered the room, he tossed a simple, oblong rectangle of virgin cloth over his shoulders. Behind him, a thin slab of sandstone was placed in the doorway, drowning out the magical currents within the room, both human and divine.

...

The priest emerged some time later, eyes wild and magical self disrupted. A small group of his fellows looked on from a distance, immediately taking note of Vollin. Rather than the gentle glow that usually accompanied living things, the ranking priest was a mess of roiling currents, not wholly of his own power.

In quick movements, he tore the white cloth in two, earning gasps.

"Prophecy?"

"He has been visited!"

"Giose! What manner of spirit have you seen!?"

"Can he speak?"

Looking somewhat relieved, Vollin shook his head no.

((The tearing of the cloth means you have been visited by a spirit. It is customary for priests to place one over their shoulders while entering a shrine or other holy place, as they are frequently struck dumb, blind, or deaf (if only for a time) by their visions.))


Clan Ottae-Mel
It was a sort of gaudy, bloody show as the hunting party returned to the stronghold of Basorl, bearing dozens of carcasses. Deer, braces of birds, and large reptiles were hauled by the men as children clutched baskets of protein-rich scorpions, spiders, and insects of every kind. They had crept through the fertile valleys, driving out and killing the fleshy denizens en mass, and gathered as they returned over dusty hills and through bleak canyons.

The town would eat well today.

But even as Basorl was safe and happy behind its ramparts, heavy news was making its way across the nation. Imperial forces had violated the clan's borders, by force of arms demanding that four Ottae-Mel villages pay the levy. Goats, donkeys, pigs, even sons and daughters had been dragged off; for not a single soul carried the foreign Mark or half-Mark.

Even before Chief Ramol could offer his judgement, the war-drumb was beating. Militias were being raised up from the sons of the tribe, armaments gathered, and supplies prepred.

[Harpy Queen]

Ddrhafy was bustling. A respected shaman of the always-changing city's stlhiff - great house, the one official magical institute in the lands of the smhlhh tribes - had claimed to receive a vision to affect all tribes. As such the chiefs and their shamans had been summoned to attend council, with an entourage accompanying. They had been trickling in for over a week now, canoeing on the tepid waters of their swamp home and slithering on land. The tribes announced their arrival with the beat and rattle of simplistic instruments, paint and costume applied for an imposing entrance.

Currently the stlhiff had been commandeered for the meeting between chiefs and their consulting shamans.

Ffrlhamh-hatt of the Jyssr Tribe was coiled on his reed mat, the one set closest to the entryway. No light slipped through the hide covering lashed tightly over it, but a low fire rested in a brazier and the oculus of the steepled roof provided some scant illumination. Firelight flickering over dark and poison-bright scales alike traced the forms of the smhlhh.

"Speak Ssiblih-bnagst of Ddrhafy, and elaborate on your reasoning for this most momentous gathering of all the chiefs and shamans of Rhesmhl." the shamans spoke in unison. There was no ranking among the shamans save for that of master and apprentice, skilled and weaker. It was one of their rules that the business between shamans was to be conducted on equal grounds, for fear of gods and demons being pitted against all of mortal-kind.

"It came to me when I while I was falling asleep. It was a god, a great rush of wind bearing on its airy body leaves live and dead. The god spirited me away to a a strange land of dry land and dead trees, and spoke to me."

The assembled smhlhh stirred with anticipation. A message from a god? What had occurred - or was to - for a god to deign one of their shamans with its attention?

"The god told me that a force to tip the balance of our people will rise up from the mud and sweep across the land in a tempest. It gave a decree, that the balance-tipper will either bring our people out of our shell. Or . . ."

"Or what?" one of the younger chiefs could not help but speak up, and flinched as his shaman directed a weak evil-eye at him.

"Or terror will fall upon us and even the waters will burn in the wake of the balance-tipper."

A hush descended upon the assembly.

"Then what?" an elderly shaman urged.

"I fell into a true sleep, and woke up the next morning with the imperative to spread this god's message."

"What can we do? Where can we find this "balance-tipper"? He must be killed!" a particularly large chief shouted.

"You fool! You cannot simply kill a subject of prophecy! It will always backfire!" Ffrlhamh-hatt's shaman spat, fangs unsheathing and a spray of spittle and venom flying on her speech.

"He is right. As it is, we know nothing pertaining to the balance-tipper other than they'll 'rise up from the mud'. It is best we wait, perhaps for a sign. Prophecies have a tendency to work out well so long as one does not interfere."

Disgruntled grumbling arose at this.

Nevertheless, with nothing else to go off of a consensus was reached that they would have to sit back and wait for the meantime.

[SovereignGrave]

KERNOW

It was nearly night, the setting sun staining the sky orange, and from a stone structure, voices could be heard, chanting in unison. The structure itself was a henge open to the air, composed of several rings of concentric circles built from great standing stones. The stones themselves had intricate details and markings painted on them in blue paint, and there were several small fields of blue flowers around the henge itself. The very innermost ring of standing stones had within it a single stone altar, with the painted carcass of a pig atop it, ribcage cut open, blood staining the altar and the grass around it. The chanting itself was coming from the seven people standing around the altar five men and two women. All of them wore nothing but a blue kilt and cloak, and they all stood in a circle, there eyes closed, chanting rhythmically and together.

As they chanted, the air changed, feeling as though it was charged with magical power. The ritual itself was indeed magical rite, intended to aid and bring fortune and luck to Kernow and her people. Though there wasn't enough magic to force good fortune upon all, even the slight amount that resulted from the spell helped and aided the settlements. These priests and priestesses continued into the night, and it was at least an hour since the sun had died away when the ritual concluded, and they ceased their chanting.

When all was said and done, they all turned and walked out of the henge, one by one. There was not even an utterance as they did so, however, once they were outside the boundaries of the holy site, one of the men looked to one of the priests and smiled gently. "Meropia, are you sure you're doing well?" he asked her softly. The question wasn't unfounded, she looked slightly haggard and unwell, even for one who had just spent several hours standing and chanting without food.

But she nodded, "Of course. I'm just worried about him..."

The priest nodded, her brother Illixo, who was also a priest, had been sent by the High Chieftain with a fleet sailing eastwards into the unknown. The priests were the most knowledgeable about stars, and so it fell to them to act as navigators on ships, so that they did not get lost upon the seas. "Howl and Loor are watching over us, and I know they will protect him as they do all."

At that Meropia nodded in agreement, "Yes, you're right of course. But things can still go wrong..."

The priest clasped the woman on her back. "But they won't," he said with confidence, "Now let's head back to the town with the others." She nodded in agreement, and the two hurried to catch up with the other priests.

THE MEURMOR

On the deep waves of the Meurmor, the Great Sea that surrounded the Isle of Wodes, a small fleet of ships braved a ferocious storm. The ships were small, carrying only ten men each, and propelled only by oars. On board one of them was a young Priest by the name of Illixo, a youth of twenty with long silver hair and deep blue eyes, and a moustache upon his lip. And in the raging torrent, he hunkered down on the boat, trying to keep hold of a collection of small stones, so that they did not go overboard. The rest of the men onboard were busy with wooden buckets, doing their best to keep the open boat from filling with water and sinking into the depths.

Then, a particularly large wave slammed into the ship, a wall of water slamming into the already drenched men. Illixo was knocked over, but still managed to keep hold of the stones. He smiled at the fact that he hadn't lost his grip on them, the stones which he used for his small rituals onboard the tiny ship. However, he heard a yell off to his side. When he looked up, he noticed what seemed to be a hand hanging onto the edge of the ship. He looked around, but none of the other sailors could hear the man over the roaring of the sea and sky. And so he made a split second decision, he set the stones down on the deck carefully, hoping to possibly recover them. But as he rushed unsteadily over to the man overboard, the small rocks all tumbled off the side into the depths. Once he got to the side, Illixo hurriedly put his hand over the edge and grasped onto the man. He struggled for a moment, fighting the wind and the waves, but managed to pull the man back onto the ship, where they lay for a short moment. Then Illixo looked over to the man, "I guess it is not yet your time to meet Mernans, is it?" The sailor nodded, and both hurriedly got back to work. His stones gone, Illixo was now able to help the men keep the ship afloat.

----------

In the morning the storm had died out, with only a few small clouds in the sky as a reminder of the events of the previous night. As Illixo awoke from fitful sleep on the floor of the ship, he looked over at what remained of the small fleet. A few ships had capsized, and those that remained had all ended up losing at least one man. They ended up having to leave one ship behind, as there were two boats that were left with not enough men to row them both. As Illixo stood looking out over the horizon, a sailor came up to him. It was the sailor he'd saved the previous night.

"Druid, what do you think caused Awel and Keynvor to rage at us like that?" he asked, referencing the deities of the weather and seas.

Illixo shook his head, "They were not raging at us. If they had, we would not have survived the night. The storms are merely part of the natural balance of things."

The sailor nodded his head, "Aye. And, well, I never got the chance to thank-"

Illixo cut him off, "Do not thank me, it is what any honourable man would have done."

The sailor began to say something, when their conversation was interrupted by a shout from on of the other boats. A shout of "Land!" Both of them hurried to the side of the ship, looking in the direction of the voice, where they saw another man standing near the prow and pointing. Surely enough, they could see the faint darkness of land on the horizon. All of the man began to cheer and holler, before the voice of Illixo cut through it all. "All right men, don't think I need to tell you what direction we're headed this time!" he shouted, a grin plastered across his face.

The sailors cheered yet again as they return to their seats, pulled the oars into position, and began to row towards this new land.

[Invisible Man]

Altorum
The regular hustle and bustle of the day continued as usual, and by the soft clip-clipping of hooves on cobblestone, one would think that the Great City of Stone was experiencing just another normal day. Unstable carts pulled by goats moved a farmer's harvest into the city as a carpenter greeted a woodcutter just outside of the walls, exchanging a number of the thin rocks with the rune "╖" engraved on it, an age-old symbol nobody really knew the meaning of, used as currency, for a few logs, which he handed to his indentured servant and walked back to his shop.

But the daily life of the city was a trifle compared to the turmoil currently occurring in the Senate building, the ancient stone dome in the center of town. Titus Ulpius had recently acquired yet another group of nearly 150 soldiers, bringing the men under his control to nearly 1,000: a quarter of the Altorian standing army. Since he was away quashing the rebellion in the north, the meeting was informal and no official decision could yet be made; however, 124 senators had appeared for the unscheduled session. Titus Ulpius may have been a great warrior, but he was not good at currying favor with his peers.

The Southern Bushback Mountains
No, Titus saved his favor for his soldiers. As the stood shoulder-to-shoulder, thrusting their sharpened sticks into the masses of charging humans, shields locked together, Titus was as proud as any man in the phalanx, for he and the Darcc ((original inhabitants of the Bushbacks--pretty much goat minotaurs, very tiny minority but good warriors)) commander. Titus carried a small wooden shield and a stone axe cut by the finest mason in Altorum. The Darcc held aloft a huge club, with small wooden splinters jutting out of it. A crude tool, but effective, for it shattered Titus's shield. Titus quickly dived out of the way as the second blow thundered down, leaving a large dent in the ground. The Darcc was disoriented; Titus took this time to strike quickly, before he recovered.

Titus delivered a slash to the Darcc's side, and a shallow cut enraged the Darcc. In his anger, he pounced on Titus, who slashed upward with his axe. A deafening "thud" was heard as the Minotaur hit the ground. Both sides ceased fighting for a brief moment. One could hear a pin drop.

The Darcc commander stirred, and suddenly rolled off of Titus. Covered in blood, he raised his axe and cheered, and his men did the same, reinvigorating their fervor. Already backed into a corner, the phalanx quickly pushed out as the desperate Darcc tried to retain their honor. Eventually, though, they were running, their hooves making a great racket as they sprinted away, their gait uneven and frantic. The soldiers looked to Titus expectantly, and the man spoke.

"Which way is the river? This blood smells terrible. Filled with the stench of cowardice and defeat." The men cheered uproariously, hoisting Titus onto their shoulders and carrying him back to their camp set up by a small brook. The animal skin tents bellowed with songs of victory.

For the elders have spoken
And we offer this token
Of gratitude and happiness
To the gods up above
That they may find love
Yea, they dare not be givin' up
Their spears no more!
For the gods, aye the gods!
For without their love'd war
We'd be living no more!

The men cheered and threw a bit of their food into the fire as an offering to the gods. Titus sat with them and sang the song with them, utterly content in their victory that day.

[Harpy Queen]

Nothing more was to be said on the subject. Since all the chiefs and shamans of Rhesmhl were assembled anyway, they decided to catch up with one another. The tribes mostly lived isolated from one another, save for war and any of their tribesmen and women that may travel to Ddrhafy. Ffrlhamh-hatt allowed his eyes to roam idly over the single large room, picking up snatches of conversation.

"What do you think of this, Hhrr-bnagst?" he inquired of his shaman.

"Concerning the balance-tipper?"

"Yes."

The tip of Hhrr-bnagst's tail flicked in thought.

"I think that it is necessary. Our people have been stagnant for too long. If the balance-tipper brings us greatness, then wonderful. If not, then we probably do not deserve it."

Ffrlhamh-hatt shuddered at this. It was not good to speak in such a way, and he had half the mind to glare at the beautiful shaman. It was only the knowledge that she could do worse with a glare (and the grudging admittance that she had a point) that the chief restrained himself from doing so.

-----

The conversing finally started to wind down. Ffrlhamh-hatt, bored from the start and seeing that it was still plenty bright out, was the first to excuse himself from the stlhiff, Hhrr-bnagst quick to follow. Ddrhafy was built on a bluff of the bay, the higher ground considerably drier in comparison to the many channels of water - swamp mixed with ocean and some freshwater rivers winding from the mountains - that flooded over this area of Rhesmhl. Ddrhafy had few permanent buildings - such as the stlhiif - with the rest mostly being lattice-walled yurts with animal hides stitched together and thrown over the wooden framework. Temporary and nomadic with the intent to be assembled and disassembled respectively as smhlhh of all tribes freely came and went.

"Something smells good from over there." Ffrlhamh-hatt commented as a tantalizing scent wafted up on a light breeze from the collection of yurts.

"Then let's go. And I presume you'll be buying." Hhrr-bnagst teased, leaning to the side to press her more svelte form against the chief's, scales rubbing against his as they slithered.

Ffrlhamh let his silence speak for him, knowing that he wouldn't refuse. The female smhlhh smiled from her victory.

-----

"You urchin! Be off with you!" there was a cry followed by a loud splat greeting the chief and shaman as they made their way to the meat vendor. They found the source to be an angry cook glaring at a small prone form lying in the mud. The child groaned before lifting himself up, plastered with mud and hissing angrily. His head whipped around, shooting a glare so venomous that the cook paled and was wracked by a strong shudder.

"Did he just?" Ffrlhamh-hatt breathed as he took in this interaction.

"Yes," replied Hhrr-bnagst.

"But he's so young!"

"Magic must be as natural as breathing to him, if a child so young can use the evil-eye so freely. And look, he's mired in mud."

So he was.

"Do you think?"

"It is likely."

[Embluss]

Ottae-Mel & Imperial Border
From the fringes of the Ottae-Mel holdings, war-bands were setting out. Fewer than a score were raised from the majority of the border steadings, but as they marched the farmers and sons of farmers gathered into legions numbering in the hundreds. In their path lay the Arvoet.

-

The warriors of the Arvoend-et Empire drew together a defense as four-hundred men bore down on them. The encampment was horribly outnumbered, but stood strong. They were emboldened by a mage at their backs, hurling fire and terror. For a moment, they may have held. Spears were driven away; axes diverted; knives thudding uselessly into thick leather.

But a figure was in their midst. Robed lavishly, face shadowed.

A mage of the college.

Within an instant, the imperial caster was felled. Felled and devoid of energy, as if he had rested on the gravelly soil for the appointed three days. With a mix of jubilation and confusion, the mass of farmers surged forth in response.

-

Stolen property and stolen children were liberated. Villages torched.

In the midst of it all was a mage of prodigal skill. The simple emblem of his college was seen throughout the night. The emperor would hear not only of an attack by the Ottae-Mel, but of a massacre at the hands of a college mage.


Stronghold of Basorl
Ramol Sarn, Chieftan of the Ottae-Mel, had finally received word of the Imperial aggression.

He was conflicted. On one hand, his way (as well as that of his people) was the way of the warrior. This violation of both honor and property could not be allowed. But he knew the forces of his mountain kingdom were outmatched. The Arvoet Clan controlled an expansive empire by right of strength. Their warriors were a teeming mass, their generals war-tested, and instruments of war increasingly devilish.

In the end, the blood of his people won out.

His army would march.

With his mind set, the leader stormed throughout Basorl, sending off his attendants. In his wake, the war-trumpet blared, mothers held back tears, and men gathered in the commons and squares. Supplies were hoisted atop rugged pack animals, flowing out of storehouses alongside spears and leathers.

The force would march by noon.


Tirranos-Bel, Glorious Capital of the Arvoend-Et Empire
Dispatches had reached the Emperor of the border skirmishes before his Ottae-Mel counterpart. The rotund, aging man's advantage was owed to the roads of the empire, hewn straight and true through the desert, with supplies of water and fresh mounts along the route.

Incensed, he ordered the immediate dispatch of a legion. Throughout the night, as more details came to light, he issued a growing number of proclamations. They held one clear message; The College of Mages was no longer welcome. Before dawn, eight scholars were lit like candles and interred without ceremony in the sands.

[Harpy Queen]

The solid wooden wheels of dog-drawn wagons creaked as covered ground. Small children, the elderly, and women with child rode among supplies. The sick had and were still abandoned, the voyage tough and the resources already strained as they were. The rest of the Kagzmaga walked. Their dusky skin was scarred with hardship and weathered by the elements, jewel-bright blue and green eyes dimmed by exhaustion. They had been traveling for months now since their exile from their homeland, subsequent to the arrival of an invading tribe with superior weaponry that had reduced their numbers to roughly only a thousand.

"Ach, the ground." grimaced Kudtsama Xobeskin as he hauled his leg up from the mud.

"The dogs do not like it either, and the wheels keep getting stuck." commented his deputy, Ganan.

"Let us move to higher ground. The water should be sweeter there anyway." Kudtsama Xobeskin decided, and orders were relayed to the caravan that their course was changing slightly. The swamp proving too much of an obstacle for the human tribe to traverse, they instead made to skirt around its fringe and head for the higher ground to the northwest.

May their ancestors and spell-scribes protect them

-----

Slithering over, Ffrlhamh-hatt reached down and snatched the boy up by his tangled mass of long black curls. The child yowled in pain and indignation and turned his glare to the Jyssr chief, only for it to have no affect as he kept his eyes averted and instead focused on the meat vendor.

"If I take him off of your hands will you provide my companion and I with three of your products?" he inquired, pointing at the impaled meat roasting over a fire with some herbs and salt sprinkled over it.

"Take the freakish boy-creature off of my hands and I will gladly do so." after the meat was handed over to Hhrr-bnagst - Ffrlhamh-hatt's arms being preoccupied with a writhing smhlhh child making a ferocious attempt to escape his grasp - the chief and shaman left with the still struggling boy. After they got away from the meat vendor and into an unoccupied area Ffrlhamh-hatt released his captive.

"Don't leave. Stay and enjoy this meat with us." Ffrlhamh-hatt offered as he saw the boy making to escape as quick as possible once freed. The chief held one of the meat sticks out. There was hesitance on the part of the child, who stared at the older smhlhh with a gaze narrowed with distrust as much as want for the food danced in them. By his build he was not malnourished, but he was on the skinny side. It was most likely that the boy was an urchin, a runt who had somehow managed to survive his clutchmates and runaway from his parents.

Was this man trying to fatten him up to be eaten?

"All I want from you is your name and your attention." the chief proposed in exchange for the boy's acceptance of the meat. This took the latter aback; why would anyone ask for the name of their meal?

"Ttrlhanye." the boy offered warily, taking the meat and then coiling in the smhlhh form of a sit to hear out the man. Now slightly more comfortable in their company, he paid more attention to what they actually looked like, and was taken aback when he saw the white wicker and semi-precious circlet of a chief around Ffrlhamh-hatt's head, and the polished black stones and yellowed skulls of small snakes worn as a necklace - a symbol of a shaman - draped over Hhrr-bnagst neck and down her torso.

[SovereignGrave]

BOSVENA

Illixo looked over Bosvena, the tiny settlement that had begun to spring up where his fleet had landed. Though it had been only a few weeks since then, the village was coming along nicely. Though the wooden structure were still being put up, there was at least a mostly finished palisade around it, as protection from outside attack. While they had yet to explore and find any natives, a scouting party was being prepared to be sent out in the morning. He'd already left the settlement once, in order to return to Kernow and tell the High Chieftain of their discovery, but that had been a while ago, and the trip wasn't particularly long. As a result, settlers and materials had quickly been sent on the the newly discovered land, which had been given the name Bosvena.

Then he turn to look down at the small shrine he'd set up, merely a pile of stones with a ring of Wode flowers around it. He smiled at he knelt down and prayed, chanting under his breath as he did so. He prayed for the small settlement, letting power flow through him, a slight tingle in the air as the ritualized magic did its work, even if it was but a small thing. After about ten minutes of this he stood yet again, and this time made his way down to the small village.

CAERDYDD

In Caerdydd, the capital of Cyrmu, the five High Chieftains were meeting. The meeting took place in the Great Hall of Vecorix, High Chieftain and ruler of Cyrmu. The four other chieftains sat on wooden stools around a great table laden with food in the middle of the hall, whilst Vecorix himself sat at a chair at the head of the table. The hall was fairly dark, as there were no windows, the only light being from the fires burning around the periphery of large room. Along the side of the hall were simple doorways leading to other rooms. And the Chieftains company stood, and occasionally sat, nearby them.

Vecorix was by the far the largest of the men, large even by the standards of his people, standing a towering eight and a half feet tall. And his hair was no less impressive, his hair was braided into a pair of braids that fell down to his shoulders, but that came back up and were braided into his moustache, which fell down to his lower chest. And his eyes were bright green in colour, with a jagged scar through the middle of his face.

The Chieftain of Alba, Albios, was of a more normal height. His hair was a lighter red than Vecorix, and was unbraided. Instead, the hair fell straight down, coming to the man's back; his moustache was in a similar unadorned state, though it was impressive and went past his chin. He had several small scars on his face as well, but his eyes were a deep piercing blue.

Mereos and Orgilos of Éire and Breizh, respectively, looked exactly the same, seeing as how they were identical twins. They both were mirrors of each other, their golden blonde hair tied up in a long braid that lay over their shoulders, falling to their chest; Mereos had his on the right, Orgilos the left. Both of them had moustaches as well. But while impressive by most standards, they were the youngest of the Chieftains, and so didn't compare to the others facial hair. Both of them had unique eyes, being light grey in colouration rather than the usual blue or green.

And finally there was Seplios, High Chieftain of Kernow, the one who had called the meeting together, due to his discovery of a new land. Compared to the rest, he wasn't particularly impressive. He was shorter than the rest, being only slightly taller than seven foot, and his straw coloured hair was in a simple braid that extended to his shoulders. His moustache was simple as well, even though it did extend down past his lips and off his face. His eyes were light blue, though his left one did have a small scar right above it.

"So Seplios, what was so important that you called a meeting for us?" Vecorix asked, taking a massive bite of meat.

"Well, several weeks ago I sent out a small fleet across the Meurmor," Seplios began.

"So they haven't returned," Albios interrupted, "We're not going to send out anyone to look for them."

Seplios glared at the man. "Oh, now that was rather rude," Orgilos said. "Now let him finish," Mereos added, before looking to Seplios expectantly.

"Of course," Seplios said, as he cleared his throat and continued, "I called you here because they did in fact return."

"So they turned around, were they lost or scared?" Albios interrupted again.

At this Vecorix stood from his chair and slammed his fist against the table, "Albios, silence yourself!"

Albios glared at the larger man, "What gives you the right to tell me what to do? We are both High Chieftains."

"The fact that we're in his city," Mereos piped in. "In his Great Hall too," Orgilos said, "You wouldn't want a rude guest, would you?"

Albios scoffed and crossed his arms. However, he stayed silent, seeing the truth in the twins words, as much as he hated to admit it. Then Vecorix looked to Seplios, "Please continue."

Seplios nodded, "You see, they did not return out of fear or being lost, but rather because they found what I had sent them out to find."

At this the rest of the Chieftains, even Albios, perked up and looked at him with interest. Before and attempts to cross the Muermor had ended with the ships capsizing in the ocean, or being lost. Few had returned, and those that had had been severely reduced in number, and had nearly all died.

At this Seplios smiled and continued onward, "I found land. A new land, completely separate from our Isle."

At this there was a moment of shocked silence as the Chieftains took in the new information. Afterwards, however, everyone, even the Chieftains retainers, burst into speech at once. There was large amounts of arguing, Albios saying that there was no way this could be possible, with many agreeing. However, just as many believed it, angry at Seplios being called a liar. Many also though it was unlikely, but believed it possible. And some, such as Orgilos and Mereos were stuck trying to get mediate, and get everyone to stop fighting. Eventually, Vecorix became fed up with the bickering and stood again, this time yelling with all his might, "Silence!"

At the great Chieftain's voice, the entire hall fell into silence. "This is my Hall, in my capital, and I will not have you all bickering like children." Then he sighed and waved his hands, "Everyone but the Chieftains leave. We must discuss this on our own for now."

[Harpy Queen]

The Kagzmaga had found themselves in the foothills of a mountain range. Albeit still a tropical region, the altitude was such that it was bordering on temperate where they were. Already they had discovered a large river that wound through the region from higher up, and the hills consisted of fertile stretches of grass and forests that were sure to provide them with all that they could desire at the meantime.

The only blight to their new land was the large swamp that stretched out to the southeast. Who knew what could lurk in the dark beneath the canopy and under tepid waters? Kudtsama Xobeskin wasn't going to allow such a feature to turn them off from this fair land, and chastised those who mentioned worries about the swamp as being irrational.

Eager to establish for themselves a new home when they had been without one for so long, the Kagzmaga quickly got to work. Lumber was collected and mud dried into bricks to construct houses with, and broad palm leaves from lower in the foothills gathered to use in thatching the roofs. When not building, women and older children foraged and men hunted for anything that was potentially edible - being a still unfamiliar land to their people, the flora and fauna were unknown to them. As it was, they were making comparisons to species they had already encountered in their travels and in their old land for a basis to go off of. Some of the stronger men were sent out as sentries with some dogs to survey the land and take note of any natives that may already inhabit them.

Kudstama Xobeskin overlooked the development of his tribe with satisfaction. It wasn't much now, but they would get through this. Their people had always endured when push came to shove. And this time they would not be so helpless, for he was determined that never again would they be helpless at the hands of a foreign community.

-----

"You want to make me your apprentice? What makes you think I can be a shaman?" Ttrlhanye gaped in disbelief, pointing at Hhrr-bnagst. The last scraps of his impromptu meal stuck to its stick was left forgotten.

"See, I told you he was a natural! He's been using magic without even realizing it!" Hhrr-bnagst crowed, all the more pleased.

"What do you mean?" the urchin asked.

"You don't think that people are intimidated by you just because you can act all surly and glare, do you? Daft child, I've seen grown smhlhh face down angered aitatanar with nary a flinch! No, you've been using the 'evil-eye'; it's one of the first skills that a shaman learns." Hhrr-bnagst explained, smiling brightly at the child. He was a bit slow on the uptake so far, but that was understandable considering his age and position. What mattered was his power, and what it would bring her and the Jyssr Tribe. Living in Ddrhafy, it was indubitable that Ttrlhanye did not belong to any actual tribe, and no one of Jyssr would oppose or dare do anything to a child brought into their tribe under hers and the chief's protection.

"I would be fed? And have a home?" Ttrlhanye asked quietly.

"More than just that! You will have power! Influence! Once you're through with your training, you will have all the prestige and mates that you could possibly want! And Ffrlhamh and I will be right there backing you." the shaman slung an arm around her companion's shoulders, that and her addressing of him without the use of his title indicating their familiarity and equal social status with one another.

"I accept."

"Excellent! You may call me Hhrr-yigya, Ttrlhanye-hhebnba."

Hhebnba. He was an apprentice.