Interaction(s): NonePreviously: None
A heavy billowing cloud of thick smoke-like fog flowed freely over the water surrounding the thriving island nation. Above the water locked empire, flashes of lightning lit up the sky like the fire still used by the barbarians to push back the blanketing darkness of night. The storm had been raging for almost the entirety of the last lunar cycle and only promised to get worse as the winds and rain continued to increase in ferocity. Villages that had previously dotted the shore of the Sargasse and Cantabrian had long been submerged beneath her rising waters. Their occupants; the lawless barbarians that dwelled in the barrens across the channel beyond Atlantis’ shores, had been at the gates of the great, ever growing empire since the rising tide washed away the first of their comparatively primitive homes.
Despite the raging weather, the barbarians, however, remained persistent in their efforts. Their dying breaths wasted trying to penetrate the impregnable walls of the breathtaking capital of Poseidonis. Their weapons of stone and bronze breaking against the exterior of the Atlantean built city, barely scratching the glistening surface of the refined orichalcum. Another flash of lightning above the city illuminated the foreboding, dark sky. The towering arched spires cast long shadows over the horde of primitives outside of the walls below as they reached towards the heavens, a testament of the might of Atlantis. Behind the polished walls, the city’s trained hoplites stood ready, continually patrolling in case the gates were breached by the angry horde.
Rising up from the center of the sprawling city, a towering pyramid-like platform elevated a massive building above the rest of the city. Smooth ebony pillars supported the wide roof as four staircases, one on each side of the base, led upwards towards the palace of Poseidonis. Within the great halls of the palace, stood two of the empire’s monarchs, the King of Netheria, and that of the Xebel, a Kingdom on the Western Edge of the Empire. Walking side by the side, the two kings were each flanked on either side by their most trusted polemarch, highly trained warriors, each worth ten men in a fight.
Climbing a spiralling staircase, the two monarchs ventured onto a platform above the palace as they looked out over the capital. Standing beside King Kyros of Xebel, it was the King of Netheria, Atlan, who was the first to speak as he motioned towards the Western edge of the Empire.
“The army of Xebel is quite impressive, nearly a thousand men, trained and armed. The largest standing army ever recorded. You must be very proud of their accomplishments.” Atlan stated as Kyros’ gaze followed his hand, smiling as he nodded.
“Yes, and with the addition of Hy-Brasil’s weapons and armour, we shall soon be able to expand our reach and by extent, our numbers further.” Kyros turned to face Atlan before speaking again.
“The other kings will want to meet to discuss our next conquest, we should call for the oligarchy to meet within the next lunar cycle. The storm will have passed by then.” He finished as he looked towards Atlan for a response.
“Agreed,” The other king nodded solemnly, “Soon Atlantis will rule all of the known world. We will be able to expand all of our territories and there will be no one left to rise against us.” He mused, a smile crossing Atlan’s face as he replied before leaning against the railing surrounding the platform’s perimeter. The polished stone felt cold beneath his hands as he wrapped his fingers around the perfect craftsmanship. Poseidonis had been built to be the greatest city in all of the Hellas, and soon all of the known world. It was from here, in the center of Netheria, that Atlantis had been truly born. Unlike the warring tribes and nomads who roamed the barrens to the North and South, Atlantis was not led by a single man. Instead, Atlantis was to be something greater, it was an empire ruled by an oligarchy of monarchs, kings who had pooled their resources to pursue a greater interest.
Atlantis’ rise to power was well documented in its own history, at least most of it. The formation of an alliance between the two previously warring tribes of the nomadic Aura and the seafaring Luma was the foundation that lit the spark which led to the construction of an empire. Together, the two began to compile resources until they began to outnumber and overwhelm those who opposed them. But the true secret to Atlantis’ success lay with the alliance the two founding rulers had forged with the veiled island, home to the mystics of Crastnus. A tribe of homo-magi, the mystics of Crastnus had mastered magic and technologies the other tribes had never before seen. It was these advancements which accelerated the development of Atlantis to the center of the known world.
The technologies and the knowledge of the arcane allowed for stronger materials and by extensions the finest buildings, weapons and armour the known world had ever seen. From Crastnus, the Atlanteans marched on the bread basket of Netheria and then onto the mineral-rich Hy-Brasil. The last two kingdoms to fall under the banner of Atlantis were those of the cave dwellers of Malgaea and the warriors of Xeb. With the might of seven kingdoms at its disposal, Atlantis became the center of the known world and controlled its interests.
Suddenly the earth beneath the city shook, disturbing Atlan’s thoughts as he steadied himself. Fire rained from the sky as fragments of ash and rock collided with the ground, the impact sending debris flying through the air as screams and cries of agony filled the streets below. Atlan and Kyros were suddenly pulled back from the balcony as their polemarch escort raised shields above the heads of the two rulers and escorted them back into the safety of the palace beneath their feet.
“We need to raise the shield!” King Atlan roared as the attendants standing nearby ran to relay the order.
“Raise the shield!” He yelled again as the pair of Kings were escorted into the throne room of Poseidonis. Outside the palace, the spires reaching high above the city began to glow an ominous red as a wave of energy emitted from within the towering pieces of architecture. The wave of crimson energy spread across the city, completely enclosing it within a shimmering shield. Raining down from above, another impact shattered across the surface of the shield as Kyros instinctively ducked, looking towards the sky as soot clouded the sky.
“The gods are punishing us.” He muttered as the city shook again. “We flew too close to the sun and the gods are now trying to wipe us from the earth.”
“Pull yourself together, the Mystics foresaw this, they planned for it.” Atlan snapped as he placed a hand on Kyros’ shoulder. “Atlantis is prepared to wait this out, all we have to do is light the signals.” The King of Netheria was calm, defiant even as he continued to speak, looking towards Kyros. “We should give the order to dive.”
“Yes, the dive, Mother Gaea protect us.” Kyros’ voice was quiet, his words spoken aloud for more his comfort than anyone else’s as Atlan nodded to the closest polemarch to relay the message to light the signals. Soon the beacons would be lit and the island would sink beneath the waves. The fire from the sky would be unable to harm the empire, all they need do was wait it out. Turning towards Kyros, Atlan placed his hand on the other king’s shoulder as he offered a few words of comfort, watching the glow of the beacon outside as horns echoed across the city ordering citizens to their homes.
“Fear not, Kyros, Atlantis will rise again.”
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