"We've had word, from across the sea in Cloazamar. We found the Ferryman."
Marcus continued to turn the words over in his head, distracted even with the warm, naked form pressed against his. She was still panting, and he adjusted his arm as she squirmed into a more comfortable position, resting her head on his chest.
"What are you thinking about?" Her question seemed innocent enough, but Marcus knew her better than that. He was silent for a time, and he felt her breathing slow.
"How did you know?"
She smirked, propping herself on an elbow. "Too dutiful. You get this look in your eyes when you're just 'doing your duty'." Her smile faded; she cast her eyes down. "It isnt going to get easier by waiting. Just say it."
"They found him. Your brother."
He felt her stiffen, wanted to reach out to her, but she pulled away. She sat at the edge of the bed, facing away from him. There was a silence, long and painful. Marcus sat up as well, took a moment to listen to the woods surrounding the camp; it would be morning soon, and he still had a long ride to the city. He dressed as she processed what he told her.
"You're going." It wasn't a question.
Marcus' heart tore. He stayed stone-faced as he pulled on his tunic. "Thats what the Princeps wants. Ill have a team - all handpicked by him, of co-"
"You'll bring him back?"
Marcus turned toward her, looked her in the eyes. Emerald eyes. Hesperid eyes. "Lydia, I'm still not sure I wont split the man in half the moment I see him. If he's even alive and this isnt a fool's hunt or an elaborate ruse to get me killed. Just promise me one thing; don't get yourself killed while I'm gone. You are all I've got now."
******************
Forty-four years ago, when the Senate of Horatica declared war on the Teleucid Empire, people rejoiced in the streets - the war would go as the past two had, significantly in Horatica's favor; the boundaries of the Republic would stretch further, and more wealth would flood the cities than ever before. When the initial reports came back of the near total annihilation of the initial invasion force - 8 legions, over 40,000 men - the Horaticans did not panic, but sent more legions. Nearly a half a million lost and four decades later, the two world powers were war-weary. Peace talks began, but a botched prisoner exchange (with a Consul amongst the casualties) put a hold on anything definite; both sides agreed to hold what lands they had, and so the largest war ever fought in recorded history ended in a bloody stalemate. At least, it was supposed to end. But then, there was Asyrdar Hesperos.
The Hesperos clan, to which Asyrdar belongs, is among the youngest of noble families, having only been brought into the Horatican fold within the past two hundred years - one of the last wars unifying the western half of the continent, Horatica Magna. His father, Adonis, was the very same Consul lost in the prisoner exchange; add to this the loss of four brothers to the war, and the finances and political future of the Hesperid line was placed in the hands of a youth of 20, a hot-headed, self-righteous, and ambitious one at that. Having served in the tail end of the Third Teleucid War as one of the famed Myrmidon, he would have already had some public support, if he wasnt already known for orchestrating one of the largest victories for Horatica in the struggle. For his use of a great river, damming it and then flooding it to sweep away an unsuspecting Teleucid army, he was dubbed 'The Ferryman' - a dark nickname to take on, and one he wore with irreverent pride.
Using his wealth, his reputation, and ruthless guile, he not only convinced the Senate to send another large Legionary force - 6 legions - but he was placed as its general. Given Proconsular powers for the span of two years, he was given the daunting task of pacifying all of Teleucia. And it very quickly appeared as if he had the ability to do so.
However, the flow of wealth stopped; slaves were not being shackled in Teleucia and sent to Horatica, but instead being put to work, freely as citizens. Schools resembling the Academia began to spring up in every city Asyrdar conquered, and soon this Ferryman, a man whom everyone associated with death and war, began to put on a new face; the face of prosperity. With Asyrdar, you will succeed; without him, you will return to despair. That is the image he portrayed, and it was not something the Senate - or the Princeps - could stand for. Opening secret talks with the Great King of Teleucia, a coordinated strike was planned, and before long, Asyrdar's hardened army - now down to near 16,000 - was surrounded on all sides. Rather than order brother to fight brother, citizen to fight citizen, he submitted to arrest, planning on a fair trial and for some way out to present itself.
The fair trial never came. He was never even brought to his own trial; a list of grievances was read, and he was condemned to die a traitor's death, crucified overseeing the Rhodean Mount. Despite severe protests, even riots, the sentence was carried, and were it not for the actions of several close friends and former slaves, Asyrdar Hesperos would have indeed been executed. And though he escaped overseas, the trouble only just began. In two years since his exile, his family disintegrated. His elder sister Adonia - first woman to be elected to the Tribuanl Council - was also declared a traitor after long and painful legal struggles, and tossed from the Rhodean Mount along with nearly three hundred Senators. His younger sister, Lydia, gathered what supporters she could and lead 15,000 against the elite garrison of the capitol (Horatica Nova) itself; the army was shattered in the fields outside the city, and now she leads a vicious guerilla war against the Republic. In the lands conquered by Asyrdar, some cities declare for Asyrdar, some retreat to the Teleucian fold, and some declare total independence. The Matriarch finally stirred; Rokshanna Hesperos, the mother of the Ferryman, moved into the capitol to take Adonia's place at the Tribunal Council, and schemes in secret.
Forty-four years of war will soon turn to forty-five, and there has never been a more chaotic time.
***************
Okay so I've tried to give as much background as I could without being wordy or branching off into confusing details. More info will come, but if you have a question definitely ask.
The World
The world has three known-of continents, plus one grouping of islands large enough to be considered a continent in its own right. In the east, we have the largest, called simply Horatica (or Horatica Magna) by the Horaticans, and Teleucia by the Teleucians. Though the two empires exist on one continent, it is oddly shaped, with two large landmasses connected only by a thin strip of land through the near-middle. The western half (Horatica) is about half the size, more mountainous and rainy, whereas the eastern half is far drier where the rivers dont flood over.
Across the sea to the west, you have (from north to south) Cenarii Primus, the League of Free Poleis, and Samakar. Cenarii Primus is barren, rocky and home to few people - mostly pirates and raiders. The League of Free Poleis is just what it sounds like; between two continents lie thousands of islands spanning near 900 miles in all directions, and almost every one has an independent city-state on it. Nearly a century ago, after fighting a two-fronted war against those from Samakar and the raider-king Saigo from Cenarii Primus, the largest polis of the islands, Cloazamar, suggested that they all unite to pay for a neutral navy for defense of the islands as a whole. Each island makes its own political decisions, but must not violate the Inalienable Rights of any other polis, lest it invoke the wrath of the League Navy. To the very south is Samakar; wide, round, full of lush trees and wide rivers, it boasts the highest population of the known world, though despite this, has no formal connections to Horatica or Teleucia. The seas between the continents are too vast, and so the Free Poleis serve as a buffer between them - one that is fiercely defended, to the point where Horaticans have no idea certain products, like silk, even come from Samakar.
Magic
In this world, magic does exist; however, it is a rarely manifested in humans, and is very difficult to control, even dangerous. While it is clear from Academia studies that there is a 'world beyond', where the winds of magic 'flow' and are channeled, it is very unclear how it is done; it seems to be genetic, very few mages find themselves spontaneously gaining ability without a similar ancestor to point to, though it certainly does happen. They are rare; maybe one in every hundred-thousand will exhibit abilities, and it is very often limited to the manipulation of elements already present IE a mage carrying a common torch could sent gouts of flame or showers of sparks to a nearby enemy, but would be useless if doused with water. The most common uses of mages are in agriculture, weather control, telekinesis-related construction projects, and the like. Particularly powerful mages are sometimes sent with Myrmidon teams or attached to veteran legionary units, though this is rare as well, for magical activity attracts the attention of...unwanted powers.
From Academia studies, it is clear that magic flows from a 'world beyond'; it is also clear that there are things that live in that chaotic realm, and they are very powerful. It is argued whether the realm of Magic is also the realm of the Divine, but it is well known that there are a manner of beings there that exist to do no good to man. They have no physical form, and cannot even seem to enter the 'real' world without first being invited into a living vessel. However, it seems that the very act of using magic is a sort of invitation, and mages channeling too much at once may find their very souls consumed and bodies turned into living shells, a plaything for the demonic.
Some time after making this correlation, Academia students and graduates began to work toward some kind of 'preventative measure'. Most attempts were unsuccessful, but one experiment stuck and has been used ever since. It was found that certain purplish-black stones could be harvested from the bodies of dead mages - almost like a cancer that grew in them over time - and when hammered into the front of another mage's skull, could produce a sort of 'anti-mage', or a Null. Most Nulls are too damaged by the procedure to do literally anything; they become vegetables on chains, paraded around by their rich patrician owners as a symbol of wealth and power (as well as a useful tool to prevent magical assassination or demonic possession). That is, if they even survive at all. A Null who can function on his or her own is a prized possession; a Null who can fight, with no brain defects, would cost as much as several villas, if not more. They are considered some of the most important agents of the Republic, and much is done to keep them alive and loyal - so long as they have the presence of mind to even know what that is.
All mages are sent to the Academia for training, or are executed; there are no exceptions. This is also a private subsection of the Academia, separate from all other colleges and funded directly by the state treasury.
The Academia
The Academia Imperialis is the pride and joy of Horatica; many of their great achievements can be traced to the Academia, one way or another. Always egalitarian, it has been open to both noble and common citizen families since its inception, provided you showed the talent - or a large enough sack of gold - to be 'worth educating'. Much is studied here, between the civil and military arts, and it seems that every Horatican has at least one relative who has spent some time in its halls. Three main 'collegia' or colleges comprise the Academia; the War College, the Scholastica Civilitas, and the Naval Academy. From the Naval Academy come the Republics warship admirals, as well as its sailors and nautical engineers; from the Scholastica Civilitas, anything typical of the civilian experience. Only the Myrmidon come from the War College - for as they say, the Myrmidon are all you'll need.
The Myrmidon
The Myrmidon are warriors of glory; it permeates their doctrine, and pushes them beyond the threshold of the typical soldier. Drawn from both the nobility and the strongest, smartest cut of slave, the Myrmidon serve as scouts, ambushers, shock troops, assassins, bodyguards, even diplomats - whatever is needed. Preferably (though not always) taken as young as possible, the training is ruthless, and many die in the process; it is a great honor, and a great risk, to be counted among their number.
Myrmidon carry arms most familiar them; though they tend to favor short swords, sabers, and other more 'maneuverable' weapons, it is not uncommon to see them with exotic foreign weapons, greatswords, axes. And while they may carry an array of different weapons, all Myrmidon can be spotted by their armor, particularly the Gauntlet. A solid steel breastplate is forged for each warrior, and to this breastplate is attached a bulky, seemingly ungainly steel arm covering; precisely measured down to the fingertips, it is expertly crafted and articulated for freedom of motion, and yet it solid enough for the Myrmidon to catch blades, even pull them from the hands of attackers. With the protective capability of a shield, but the utility of a free hand, the Myrmidon Gauntlet is a marvel of Academia engineering. Aside from this, they remain unarmored.
As previously mentioned, the Myrmidon idea of glory is something that motivates them all; it is also a nuanced view with both philosophical and real-world complications. On the campus of the Academia, there is a small, easily-missed dirt road to the north. After many days of travel, it opens to a wide paved road. Flanking the road are statues of marble, done in the likeness of every Myrmidon ever to join the ranks, commissioned upon their death. Each statue sits upon a round column of stone; the deeds of each fallen Myrmidon are etched upon the columns, and so the taller the column, the more impressive the deeds and storied the career of the warrior. Only one statue was commissioned while its subject lived; Eli Ashgarde, hero of the Third Teleucian War, staunch supporter - and former instructor - of Asyrdar Hesperos.
To the Myrmidon, one gains immortality through his deeds; even after you die, and those who knew you and the memory of you fades, your statue - and your deeds - will remain, to be judged eternally. Therefore, every endeavor undertaken by a Myrmidon is done in this context; how will they remember me?
The Horatican Republic
Despite the events of the past forty years, The Republic of Horatica remains the most powerful force on the eastern continent, and arguably the world. Stretching across almost all of the western half of the continent, fire and blood earned it its borders, for Horatica is the curious case of a single city ruling an empire. However, to tell the tale of Horatica and its current state, one must delve into the story of its namesake; pious Horatius.
Some thousand-odd years ago (official records date it at 756 years Pre-Revolution), the Sun itself was waning, and the world was in panic. As it flickered weakly in the sky, people throughout the continent did everything they could to restore it; they prayed, they fought, they wept, yet nothing seemed able to stem the encroaching darkness. That is, until Horatius began his trials.
According to legend, Horatius climbed to the highest point near his village, knelt at the edge of the cliff, and with palms upturned furiously implored the gods for a solution. For six days, he received no response, yet he did not let up; on the seventh day, a storm suddenly broke out above him, where mere minutes before was a clear sky. In that storm he witnessed Rhodeus and Rheseus, in their everlasting tussle, and from their mouths was spoken his first task; found a shrine to the brothers at the cliff he knelt upon. This small stone carving upon the stone, like a temple shrunk to size fit for ants, became known as the Rhodean Mount, and from this point was the capital city later founded - Horatica Nova.
After each trial, Horatius received another vision of the gods, until at last twelve trials were completed, and the visions no longer came. To his dismay, Horatius found his trials had seemed to do nothing; the sun still flickered weakly, the days grew colder and darker, and people began to lose hope. Tearfully begging the gods to spare the people of his tribe, Horatius built a pyre twelve meters tall - one for every trial, one for every god or goddess. Climbing upon it, he had a trusted slave light it, and he self-immolated; offering himself in order to spare his people, the flames grew bright and tall, brighter than any mortal eye could behold. The pyre danced, and those in attendance could hear joyous laughter from within; hours later, the Sun was restored, and the world rejoiced.
Almost immediately, the tribe that Horatius belonged to began to expand outward, fueled by religious fervor at one of their number having supposedly ascended to godhood. Within two centuries, what was once a small tribe of several hundred near the base of the Rhodean Mount grew to stretch several hundred miles in all directions, the largest political entity in the western half of the continent. After the Academia Imperialis was founded - 450 years before the Revolution - Horatica's borders and population swelled at a rate alarming to those around them. Before long, The Republic of Horatica comprised almost the whole of the west, 480 miles in any direction from the center point. Only minor powers and small tribal villages remained at the fringes.
As for Horaticans themselves, they attribute their success to two things; respect for the gods, and a balanced constitution. Five hundred Senators comprise the Horatican Senate; while nowadays they are led by a Princeps who exists outside them, they were once led by two officials of their own number, elected annually, called Consuls. The Senate debates pertinent issues of state; the Consuls (or the Princeps) have the power to veto a motion proposed. If a motion is not vetoed, and receives 2/3rds of the Senate's approval, it is passed to the Tribunal Council - ten officials, one for every Provincia. These men (and women, in recent years) were once elected every five years, but for some time now the position has been one inherited by family members, passing from father to child in order of age. Should a motion receive six of ten Tribunal votes, it passes. With a careful system of checks and balances in place, laws are not recklessly passed, and no one party can gain advantage over the other. At least, that is how things should be, but 238 years prior, everything changed to more closely resemble the current age.
For most of the Republic's lifetime, the Archanii were among the most important patrician clans; with many family members in the Senate, military, and Academia, they were always key players in the important events of their day, and they had the single most valuable resource - the love of the people. And so it was that in 755AF, one Zhyrios Archan was elected consul, alongside his political rival Gaius Morian; it was thought that their rivalry would soften, when the two were forced to work together. Unfortunately, the opposite happened, and the two spent most of the year vetoing motions supported by the other; tensions rose throughout the capital and even the wider empire. In 756, when Archan was again elected consul but Morian was not, the latter used this as momentum to gather troops; in his words, Zhyrios Archan was 'aiming for a crown', and he was simply readying himself to punish the 'traitor'. Archan responded by raising ten legions, and the two went to war, in the first civil war seen in Horatica. It was a bloody affair, and nearly a million died in the struggle, which exceeded ten years. Eventually, Archan succeeded; Gaius Morian was crucified overlooking the Rhodean Mount, and when the dust settled, no one seemed to notice that Archan remained in power, with no elections held one way or the other. If they did, they kept their opinions to themselves; somewhere, without so much as a ripple, the Republic died and the Principate was born.
Within the year (767) Zhyrios Archan made three official proclamations, which went unchallenged; first, that as 756 was 'the year in which the law became lawless', the calendar would begin anew from that point. Second, that he was 'Princeps' or first citizen, merely in an advisory role to the Senate, and that his diadem was not a crown in any sense. And lastly, that there would no longer be two consuls elected per year, but one consul per two years; he, as the Princeps, would occupy the position of the former second consul, and have veto power over the elected official. The Senate, long drained of its independent thinkers and populated with sycophants, merely nodded and bowed impotently; they did so while Zhyrios Archan did as he chose, writing and passing laws without so much as a whisper of dissent, and they did so as Sempronius Matellus - a plebeian of high standing within the Praetorian Guard - gathered his troops and murdered Archan and his entire bloodline, taking the diadem and title of Princeps for himself.
This was in 775 (19 AF), and the Matellii have ruled to the current day, 238 AF.
Religion
Horaticans are polytheists, and egalitarian ones at that. There are 12 traditional deities, and Horatius makes 13; there are small shrines and vast temple-complexes for each scattered throughout the empire.
Horatius, explained above, is the patron deity of the Horatican people; it is where they draw their name, and they invoke his name before battle, or before any particularly tough endeavor.
Peleus, the Father, brought ten of the remaining eleven deities into being, and is therefore seen as patron of fathers, patron of patrons, and patron of healers and philanthropists. It is not known who came first; Peleus, or the Ferryman.
The Ferryman is the one tasked to bring the souls of the dead down the World River, to the Life Beyond. Only the foolhardy, irreverent, and blasphemous invoke the name of the Ferryman lightly, though he is not seen as evil; he is beyond morality, his actions beyond the pale and scope of the law, for the sake of the overall order of things.
Rhodeus and Rheseus are currently those considered 'in power' in the divine realm; twin brothers, they share their rule, as their power and wisdom is seen to equal one another. This does not stop them from tussling, however, and storms and earthquakes are attributed to their arguments and fistfights.
Barca is the god of War, or more specifically, is War Itself; he is said to be present at every conflict, screaming madly into the ears of the enraged to do terrible evil. As with the Ferryman, his name is rarely invoked as well, but unlike the Ferryman, he is well known as 'The Most Hated' of the gods.
Character Sheets
Name:
Age:
Nation of Origin:
Sex:
Physical Description: (Text required, photo optional)
Equipment/Personal Possessions:
History: (Cover personality and any notable skills here)
I dont require an essay, but I do want to see some kind of effort in your sheets, particularly the last bit. Have fun most of all. I will have my own character up later, today was stressful. lol and as always, feel free to ask any questions. Its time to find the Ferryman!
Marcus continued to turn the words over in his head, distracted even with the warm, naked form pressed against his. She was still panting, and he adjusted his arm as she squirmed into a more comfortable position, resting her head on his chest.
"What are you thinking about?" Her question seemed innocent enough, but Marcus knew her better than that. He was silent for a time, and he felt her breathing slow.
"How did you know?"
She smirked, propping herself on an elbow. "Too dutiful. You get this look in your eyes when you're just 'doing your duty'." Her smile faded; she cast her eyes down. "It isnt going to get easier by waiting. Just say it."
"They found him. Your brother."
He felt her stiffen, wanted to reach out to her, but she pulled away. She sat at the edge of the bed, facing away from him. There was a silence, long and painful. Marcus sat up as well, took a moment to listen to the woods surrounding the camp; it would be morning soon, and he still had a long ride to the city. He dressed as she processed what he told her.
"You're going." It wasn't a question.
Marcus' heart tore. He stayed stone-faced as he pulled on his tunic. "Thats what the Princeps wants. Ill have a team - all handpicked by him, of co-"
"You'll bring him back?"
Marcus turned toward her, looked her in the eyes. Emerald eyes. Hesperid eyes. "Lydia, I'm still not sure I wont split the man in half the moment I see him. If he's even alive and this isnt a fool's hunt or an elaborate ruse to get me killed. Just promise me one thing; don't get yourself killed while I'm gone. You are all I've got now."
******************
Forty-four years ago, when the Senate of Horatica declared war on the Teleucid Empire, people rejoiced in the streets - the war would go as the past two had, significantly in Horatica's favor; the boundaries of the Republic would stretch further, and more wealth would flood the cities than ever before. When the initial reports came back of the near total annihilation of the initial invasion force - 8 legions, over 40,000 men - the Horaticans did not panic, but sent more legions. Nearly a half a million lost and four decades later, the two world powers were war-weary. Peace talks began, but a botched prisoner exchange (with a Consul amongst the casualties) put a hold on anything definite; both sides agreed to hold what lands they had, and so the largest war ever fought in recorded history ended in a bloody stalemate. At least, it was supposed to end. But then, there was Asyrdar Hesperos.
The Hesperos clan, to which Asyrdar belongs, is among the youngest of noble families, having only been brought into the Horatican fold within the past two hundred years - one of the last wars unifying the western half of the continent, Horatica Magna. His father, Adonis, was the very same Consul lost in the prisoner exchange; add to this the loss of four brothers to the war, and the finances and political future of the Hesperid line was placed in the hands of a youth of 20, a hot-headed, self-righteous, and ambitious one at that. Having served in the tail end of the Third Teleucid War as one of the famed Myrmidon, he would have already had some public support, if he wasnt already known for orchestrating one of the largest victories for Horatica in the struggle. For his use of a great river, damming it and then flooding it to sweep away an unsuspecting Teleucid army, he was dubbed 'The Ferryman' - a dark nickname to take on, and one he wore with irreverent pride.
Using his wealth, his reputation, and ruthless guile, he not only convinced the Senate to send another large Legionary force - 6 legions - but he was placed as its general. Given Proconsular powers for the span of two years, he was given the daunting task of pacifying all of Teleucia. And it very quickly appeared as if he had the ability to do so.
However, the flow of wealth stopped; slaves were not being shackled in Teleucia and sent to Horatica, but instead being put to work, freely as citizens. Schools resembling the Academia began to spring up in every city Asyrdar conquered, and soon this Ferryman, a man whom everyone associated with death and war, began to put on a new face; the face of prosperity. With Asyrdar, you will succeed; without him, you will return to despair. That is the image he portrayed, and it was not something the Senate - or the Princeps - could stand for. Opening secret talks with the Great King of Teleucia, a coordinated strike was planned, and before long, Asyrdar's hardened army - now down to near 16,000 - was surrounded on all sides. Rather than order brother to fight brother, citizen to fight citizen, he submitted to arrest, planning on a fair trial and for some way out to present itself.
The fair trial never came. He was never even brought to his own trial; a list of grievances was read, and he was condemned to die a traitor's death, crucified overseeing the Rhodean Mount. Despite severe protests, even riots, the sentence was carried, and were it not for the actions of several close friends and former slaves, Asyrdar Hesperos would have indeed been executed. And though he escaped overseas, the trouble only just began. In two years since his exile, his family disintegrated. His elder sister Adonia - first woman to be elected to the Tribuanl Council - was also declared a traitor after long and painful legal struggles, and tossed from the Rhodean Mount along with nearly three hundred Senators. His younger sister, Lydia, gathered what supporters she could and lead 15,000 against the elite garrison of the capitol (Horatica Nova) itself; the army was shattered in the fields outside the city, and now she leads a vicious guerilla war against the Republic. In the lands conquered by Asyrdar, some cities declare for Asyrdar, some retreat to the Teleucian fold, and some declare total independence. The Matriarch finally stirred; Rokshanna Hesperos, the mother of the Ferryman, moved into the capitol to take Adonia's place at the Tribunal Council, and schemes in secret.
Forty-four years of war will soon turn to forty-five, and there has never been a more chaotic time.
***************
Okay so I've tried to give as much background as I could without being wordy or branching off into confusing details. More info will come, but if you have a question definitely ask.
The World
The world has three known-of continents, plus one grouping of islands large enough to be considered a continent in its own right. In the east, we have the largest, called simply Horatica (or Horatica Magna) by the Horaticans, and Teleucia by the Teleucians. Though the two empires exist on one continent, it is oddly shaped, with two large landmasses connected only by a thin strip of land through the near-middle. The western half (Horatica) is about half the size, more mountainous and rainy, whereas the eastern half is far drier where the rivers dont flood over.
Across the sea to the west, you have (from north to south) Cenarii Primus, the League of Free Poleis, and Samakar. Cenarii Primus is barren, rocky and home to few people - mostly pirates and raiders. The League of Free Poleis is just what it sounds like; between two continents lie thousands of islands spanning near 900 miles in all directions, and almost every one has an independent city-state on it. Nearly a century ago, after fighting a two-fronted war against those from Samakar and the raider-king Saigo from Cenarii Primus, the largest polis of the islands, Cloazamar, suggested that they all unite to pay for a neutral navy for defense of the islands as a whole. Each island makes its own political decisions, but must not violate the Inalienable Rights of any other polis, lest it invoke the wrath of the League Navy. To the very south is Samakar; wide, round, full of lush trees and wide rivers, it boasts the highest population of the known world, though despite this, has no formal connections to Horatica or Teleucia. The seas between the continents are too vast, and so the Free Poleis serve as a buffer between them - one that is fiercely defended, to the point where Horaticans have no idea certain products, like silk, even come from Samakar.
Magic
In this world, magic does exist; however, it is a rarely manifested in humans, and is very difficult to control, even dangerous. While it is clear from Academia studies that there is a 'world beyond', where the winds of magic 'flow' and are channeled, it is very unclear how it is done; it seems to be genetic, very few mages find themselves spontaneously gaining ability without a similar ancestor to point to, though it certainly does happen. They are rare; maybe one in every hundred-thousand will exhibit abilities, and it is very often limited to the manipulation of elements already present IE a mage carrying a common torch could sent gouts of flame or showers of sparks to a nearby enemy, but would be useless if doused with water. The most common uses of mages are in agriculture, weather control, telekinesis-related construction projects, and the like. Particularly powerful mages are sometimes sent with Myrmidon teams or attached to veteran legionary units, though this is rare as well, for magical activity attracts the attention of...unwanted powers.
From Academia studies, it is clear that magic flows from a 'world beyond'; it is also clear that there are things that live in that chaotic realm, and they are very powerful. It is argued whether the realm of Magic is also the realm of the Divine, but it is well known that there are a manner of beings there that exist to do no good to man. They have no physical form, and cannot even seem to enter the 'real' world without first being invited into a living vessel. However, it seems that the very act of using magic is a sort of invitation, and mages channeling too much at once may find their very souls consumed and bodies turned into living shells, a plaything for the demonic.
Some time after making this correlation, Academia students and graduates began to work toward some kind of 'preventative measure'. Most attempts were unsuccessful, but one experiment stuck and has been used ever since. It was found that certain purplish-black stones could be harvested from the bodies of dead mages - almost like a cancer that grew in them over time - and when hammered into the front of another mage's skull, could produce a sort of 'anti-mage', or a Null. Most Nulls are too damaged by the procedure to do literally anything; they become vegetables on chains, paraded around by their rich patrician owners as a symbol of wealth and power (as well as a useful tool to prevent magical assassination or demonic possession). That is, if they even survive at all. A Null who can function on his or her own is a prized possession; a Null who can fight, with no brain defects, would cost as much as several villas, if not more. They are considered some of the most important agents of the Republic, and much is done to keep them alive and loyal - so long as they have the presence of mind to even know what that is.
All mages are sent to the Academia for training, or are executed; there are no exceptions. This is also a private subsection of the Academia, separate from all other colleges and funded directly by the state treasury.
The Academia
The Academia Imperialis is the pride and joy of Horatica; many of their great achievements can be traced to the Academia, one way or another. Always egalitarian, it has been open to both noble and common citizen families since its inception, provided you showed the talent - or a large enough sack of gold - to be 'worth educating'. Much is studied here, between the civil and military arts, and it seems that every Horatican has at least one relative who has spent some time in its halls. Three main 'collegia' or colleges comprise the Academia; the War College, the Scholastica Civilitas, and the Naval Academy. From the Naval Academy come the Republics warship admirals, as well as its sailors and nautical engineers; from the Scholastica Civilitas, anything typical of the civilian experience. Only the Myrmidon come from the War College - for as they say, the Myrmidon are all you'll need.
The Myrmidon
The Myrmidon are warriors of glory; it permeates their doctrine, and pushes them beyond the threshold of the typical soldier. Drawn from both the nobility and the strongest, smartest cut of slave, the Myrmidon serve as scouts, ambushers, shock troops, assassins, bodyguards, even diplomats - whatever is needed. Preferably (though not always) taken as young as possible, the training is ruthless, and many die in the process; it is a great honor, and a great risk, to be counted among their number.
Myrmidon carry arms most familiar them; though they tend to favor short swords, sabers, and other more 'maneuverable' weapons, it is not uncommon to see them with exotic foreign weapons, greatswords, axes. And while they may carry an array of different weapons, all Myrmidon can be spotted by their armor, particularly the Gauntlet. A solid steel breastplate is forged for each warrior, and to this breastplate is attached a bulky, seemingly ungainly steel arm covering; precisely measured down to the fingertips, it is expertly crafted and articulated for freedom of motion, and yet it solid enough for the Myrmidon to catch blades, even pull them from the hands of attackers. With the protective capability of a shield, but the utility of a free hand, the Myrmidon Gauntlet is a marvel of Academia engineering. Aside from this, they remain unarmored.
As previously mentioned, the Myrmidon idea of glory is something that motivates them all; it is also a nuanced view with both philosophical and real-world complications. On the campus of the Academia, there is a small, easily-missed dirt road to the north. After many days of travel, it opens to a wide paved road. Flanking the road are statues of marble, done in the likeness of every Myrmidon ever to join the ranks, commissioned upon their death. Each statue sits upon a round column of stone; the deeds of each fallen Myrmidon are etched upon the columns, and so the taller the column, the more impressive the deeds and storied the career of the warrior. Only one statue was commissioned while its subject lived; Eli Ashgarde, hero of the Third Teleucian War, staunch supporter - and former instructor - of Asyrdar Hesperos.
To the Myrmidon, one gains immortality through his deeds; even after you die, and those who knew you and the memory of you fades, your statue - and your deeds - will remain, to be judged eternally. Therefore, every endeavor undertaken by a Myrmidon is done in this context; how will they remember me?
The Horatican Republic
Despite the events of the past forty years, The Republic of Horatica remains the most powerful force on the eastern continent, and arguably the world. Stretching across almost all of the western half of the continent, fire and blood earned it its borders, for Horatica is the curious case of a single city ruling an empire. However, to tell the tale of Horatica and its current state, one must delve into the story of its namesake; pious Horatius.
Some thousand-odd years ago (official records date it at 756 years Pre-Revolution), the Sun itself was waning, and the world was in panic. As it flickered weakly in the sky, people throughout the continent did everything they could to restore it; they prayed, they fought, they wept, yet nothing seemed able to stem the encroaching darkness. That is, until Horatius began his trials.
According to legend, Horatius climbed to the highest point near his village, knelt at the edge of the cliff, and with palms upturned furiously implored the gods for a solution. For six days, he received no response, yet he did not let up; on the seventh day, a storm suddenly broke out above him, where mere minutes before was a clear sky. In that storm he witnessed Rhodeus and Rheseus, in their everlasting tussle, and from their mouths was spoken his first task; found a shrine to the brothers at the cliff he knelt upon. This small stone carving upon the stone, like a temple shrunk to size fit for ants, became known as the Rhodean Mount, and from this point was the capital city later founded - Horatica Nova.
After each trial, Horatius received another vision of the gods, until at last twelve trials were completed, and the visions no longer came. To his dismay, Horatius found his trials had seemed to do nothing; the sun still flickered weakly, the days grew colder and darker, and people began to lose hope. Tearfully begging the gods to spare the people of his tribe, Horatius built a pyre twelve meters tall - one for every trial, one for every god or goddess. Climbing upon it, he had a trusted slave light it, and he self-immolated; offering himself in order to spare his people, the flames grew bright and tall, brighter than any mortal eye could behold. The pyre danced, and those in attendance could hear joyous laughter from within; hours later, the Sun was restored, and the world rejoiced.
Almost immediately, the tribe that Horatius belonged to began to expand outward, fueled by religious fervor at one of their number having supposedly ascended to godhood. Within two centuries, what was once a small tribe of several hundred near the base of the Rhodean Mount grew to stretch several hundred miles in all directions, the largest political entity in the western half of the continent. After the Academia Imperialis was founded - 450 years before the Revolution - Horatica's borders and population swelled at a rate alarming to those around them. Before long, The Republic of Horatica comprised almost the whole of the west, 480 miles in any direction from the center point. Only minor powers and small tribal villages remained at the fringes.
As for Horaticans themselves, they attribute their success to two things; respect for the gods, and a balanced constitution. Five hundred Senators comprise the Horatican Senate; while nowadays they are led by a Princeps who exists outside them, they were once led by two officials of their own number, elected annually, called Consuls. The Senate debates pertinent issues of state; the Consuls (or the Princeps) have the power to veto a motion proposed. If a motion is not vetoed, and receives 2/3rds of the Senate's approval, it is passed to the Tribunal Council - ten officials, one for every Provincia. These men (and women, in recent years) were once elected every five years, but for some time now the position has been one inherited by family members, passing from father to child in order of age. Should a motion receive six of ten Tribunal votes, it passes. With a careful system of checks and balances in place, laws are not recklessly passed, and no one party can gain advantage over the other. At least, that is how things should be, but 238 years prior, everything changed to more closely resemble the current age.
For most of the Republic's lifetime, the Archanii were among the most important patrician clans; with many family members in the Senate, military, and Academia, they were always key players in the important events of their day, and they had the single most valuable resource - the love of the people. And so it was that in 755AF, one Zhyrios Archan was elected consul, alongside his political rival Gaius Morian; it was thought that their rivalry would soften, when the two were forced to work together. Unfortunately, the opposite happened, and the two spent most of the year vetoing motions supported by the other; tensions rose throughout the capital and even the wider empire. In 756, when Archan was again elected consul but Morian was not, the latter used this as momentum to gather troops; in his words, Zhyrios Archan was 'aiming for a crown', and he was simply readying himself to punish the 'traitor'. Archan responded by raising ten legions, and the two went to war, in the first civil war seen in Horatica. It was a bloody affair, and nearly a million died in the struggle, which exceeded ten years. Eventually, Archan succeeded; Gaius Morian was crucified overlooking the Rhodean Mount, and when the dust settled, no one seemed to notice that Archan remained in power, with no elections held one way or the other. If they did, they kept their opinions to themselves; somewhere, without so much as a ripple, the Republic died and the Principate was born.
Within the year (767) Zhyrios Archan made three official proclamations, which went unchallenged; first, that as 756 was 'the year in which the law became lawless', the calendar would begin anew from that point. Second, that he was 'Princeps' or first citizen, merely in an advisory role to the Senate, and that his diadem was not a crown in any sense. And lastly, that there would no longer be two consuls elected per year, but one consul per two years; he, as the Princeps, would occupy the position of the former second consul, and have veto power over the elected official. The Senate, long drained of its independent thinkers and populated with sycophants, merely nodded and bowed impotently; they did so while Zhyrios Archan did as he chose, writing and passing laws without so much as a whisper of dissent, and they did so as Sempronius Matellus - a plebeian of high standing within the Praetorian Guard - gathered his troops and murdered Archan and his entire bloodline, taking the diadem and title of Princeps for himself.
This was in 775 (19 AF), and the Matellii have ruled to the current day, 238 AF.
Religion
Horaticans are polytheists, and egalitarian ones at that. There are 12 traditional deities, and Horatius makes 13; there are small shrines and vast temple-complexes for each scattered throughout the empire.
Horatius, explained above, is the patron deity of the Horatican people; it is where they draw their name, and they invoke his name before battle, or before any particularly tough endeavor.
Peleus, the Father, brought ten of the remaining eleven deities into being, and is therefore seen as patron of fathers, patron of patrons, and patron of healers and philanthropists. It is not known who came first; Peleus, or the Ferryman.
The Ferryman is the one tasked to bring the souls of the dead down the World River, to the Life Beyond. Only the foolhardy, irreverent, and blasphemous invoke the name of the Ferryman lightly, though he is not seen as evil; he is beyond morality, his actions beyond the pale and scope of the law, for the sake of the overall order of things.
Rhodeus and Rheseus are currently those considered 'in power' in the divine realm; twin brothers, they share their rule, as their power and wisdom is seen to equal one another. This does not stop them from tussling, however, and storms and earthquakes are attributed to their arguments and fistfights.
Barca is the god of War, or more specifically, is War Itself; he is said to be present at every conflict, screaming madly into the ears of the enraged to do terrible evil. As with the Ferryman, his name is rarely invoked as well, but unlike the Ferryman, he is well known as 'The Most Hated' of the gods.
Character Sheets
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I dont require an essay, but I do want to see some kind of effort in your sheets, particularly the last bit. Have fun most of all. I will have my own character up later, today was stressful. lol and as always, feel free to ask any questions. Its time to find the Ferryman!
