Lovejoy

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@shylarah I should clarify, most of the Lanostran soldiers in Lanostre were sent. There are still tons of them left in the empire itself. The armada was pretty big but it’s not like Lord Varya sent all or even most of his armies to El. After all, steam arms are a relatively new advancement in naval tech and they don’t have an unlimited number of them to send out yet.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@shylarahI’d say Lanostre is more of a vassal state than a conquered territory. Since the Goddess willingly surrendered, the hostilities ceased and Lanostrans are considered full citizens of the empire. So, it’s been allowed to retain its culture and customs. There is peace between the two nations but there are certainly some Lanostrans who aim to restore their kingdom to power, Astraea’s parents being prime examples.

The capital city is still how it was before the war, except there is a garrison of Varyan soldiers stationed there. Currently, they’re the only ones left in the city, since most of the Lanostran soldiers were shipped off to fight in El.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Sapharan, High City, capital of Lanostre

---

It was true what was often uttered from the lips of Lanostrans. To stand upon the walls of Sapharan was to gaze upon the entire world.

It had been more than a decade, yet for the three inquisitors who stood at the edge of the High City's walls the view had not lost its awe, nor the grasp it had held upon their hearts when they were young. You could, quite literally, glimpse thousands of feet into the clouded abyss of the world below, into the white void of the eastern horizon, where the storms never ceased, and west, where far in the distance, an unnatural darkness tinted the snow, ever resonating. For Tatiana, Astraea and Galahad, these heart-stopping sights were all memories from childhood made manifest again. These twin mountains, where the sun shone above the clouds and reflected off their ancient crystalline rock, making it shimmer like starlight, where the trees still grew strong and tall and evergreen, were home, and yet-- it was not the same home they had left.

In those days before the Red Seminary, they remembered the streets of the High City teeming with life, warriors returning from the Glacier, dragging the corpses of their prey on sleighs, children mustering in the gardens and the screetching of their high-pitched warcries resonating in the air, the percussion of steel against steel as blacksmith forges opened for the morning hunts-- this was Sapharan.

Not this.

The streets on which they walked on the way to their homes were silent and almost bereft of life. It seemed most of the High City was empty, save for congregations of Varyan soldiers marching down the avenues, their faces shivering from the cold and grim with fear. What were they so afraid of?

The wind was raging, they could always hear it after all, and in this elevation the cold was biting enough to freeze you dead on some nights, but the emerald aegis of Lanostre still protected the city from the cruelty of the elements. In comparison to the Varyan garrison, the three inquisitors felt almost warm within the aegis' light. Whether this was because of their training, or because they were Lanostrans under the protection of their goddess' aegis, was unclear. Still, one thing was for certain, despite the Lady's supposed death, even now, the twin mountains of Lanostre still gleamed emerald with the glow of her aegis.

Leaving the plaza of the High City, the trio proceeded down The Deadway, the massive earthen stairwell cut from the face of the rock which led further down to Bridgetown. True to its namesake, Bridgetown acted as an aerial bridge connecting the Elder Mountain to the Younger Mountain. These twin peaks where the dual cities of Sapharan stood were the highest points of land in all the known world, taller than even Magnagrad. Through the eons they had endured, surviving the cataclysmic flood that had swallowed the earth after the Ice Titan and His Great Enemy's divine battle sent the world into ruin, and thus, along with Iddin-Mar in Omestris, these two peaks were the only known remnants of the Old World.

Bridgetown itself was a marvel of engineering, a district of craftsmen and freethinkers built decades ago by T'saraen engineers to connect the twin mountains and make travel between the two cities standing at their peaks safer. Its construction was said to have been a debt of gratitude to the land that had adopted them, and these days, it was a conclave where a small but thriving population of half and full-blooded T'saraens made their home. It was a place of wonder and amazement, where silver clockwork churned gracefully amidst the azure mountain rock, and in the night, schools of tiny clockwork ethermoths were let out to light up all of Lanostre. This beautiful and wondrous sight was still rooted in many a Lanostran's memory.

By the time the three inquisitors had reached Bridgetown, the pale sun was creeping down beneath the western horizon, its rays reflecting off the glossy surface of the monstrous Black Glacier a distance away. Even from this height, the red pulsing of the Glacier's ethereal veins could be seen in the twilight. Saying their goodbyes, they each left to visit their homes. Tomorrow morning, they planned to meet back there in Bridgetown to prepare for the journey back.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

The First City of Cero, capital of T'sarae

---

_{[written by Lovejoy & Drakey]}

The sky was gold, he saw.

Not just the burning gold of Omestrian ether, or the strange elemental gold of Ziotea's eyes, but a crystalline gold that never ceased to end its gleaming. To look upon it was to gaze upon a sea of jewels. Perhaps the gleaming came from the rays of the unknown sun that shined down upon the world. Rodion could picture its rays rippling through the dome's surface as it cast its dreamlike radiance on the city below.

Cero was unlike anything he had ever seen. It was a an artfully crafted city-- its buildings, plazas and highroads built with grace and fluidity, unlike Magnagrad's endless and brutal urban sprawl. This seemed to reflect the two Remnants perfectly. Lord Varya hungered eternally, and always wanted more. Magnagrad, with its countless foundations and levels-- that ever-growing black mountain of blood and clockwork, seemed to exist solely as a representation of His unabating hunger. T'sarae, on the other hand, was a God of craft and creation, and the First City of Cero, encased within its impossible crystalline aegis, was testamount to that.

Since Rodion had arrived, the cavalcade of T'saraen freethinkers, scientists and engineers who shared his transport vehicle had been pointing out the countless marvels of creation that existed within the city. Head Engineer Amir T'sukasa, who had been Rodion's main guide and charged with bringing him to the imperial drydocks, pointed to the north. There in the northernmost sector of the city stood MUSE, the grand scientific academy which, according to scripture, Lord T'sarae himself had founded many centuries ago. And as they weaved through one of the congested highroads that stood over the city, another scientist pointed down at the plaza below, where stood the only church in the entire city. "We don't allow religious fervor to fester out of control here. It tends to get in the way of our work," she told him.

Finally, upon reaching the edge of Cero, where the skyscrapers that dotted the urban expanse were replaced with the low naval yards and drydocks and ringed its outskirts, Rodion could finally gaze upon it without having to crane his neck or squint his eyes-- The monolithic construct that covered the city like a pair of cupped palms...

The Aegisdome.

The enormity of it was unlike anything he had ever seen. The dome's surface was a perfectly cut collective of what appeared to be thousands of interlocking crystalline panels, which each panel easily being the size of a full city block. The dome acted as an actual aegis, thus, not only was it a marvel of scientific creation, but was also a construct of boundless magical power.

"Magnificent, isn't it? This is Lord T'sarae's greatest creation. Ancient build-records say He spent six days and seven nights constructing it," Head Engineer Amir told him with pride.

It certainly was impressive, but one thing about it in particular gnawed at Rodion. Why was it gold? Gold was the color of Omestrian ether. And as far as he knew, T'saraen blood was imbued with blue ether, just like everyone else's. The color immediately jumped out at him as being out of place.

"Are you wondering about the gold? Well, we... actually don't know the answer to that. Perhaps... Lord T'sarae made it this color because... He thought it was pretty?" the engineer answered with a laugh.

With that, he was led down to the Imperial drydocks.

When he stepped foot on the shipyard, he was immediately brushed aside by a group of workers steadily making their way to a military vessel floating in the half-melted ice. The docks were chaotic with activity, restless-looking science corps officers barked orders as squadrons of laborers and builders carried supplies up and down the docks. There were dozens of military ships being outfitted for... what exactly? As far as Rodion knew, none of these ships could survive a journey to El. They were old warships from the Lanostran war, not true steam arks.

"We can't send these old beasts out to the Eastern Lands quite yet, but the Secular High Command wants them prepared for war all the same. Between you and me, there's talk of MUSE being on the cusp of an advancement in ether heating systems that's got every one of us excited. I wager within the year we'll be able to mass produce the stuff we have in the steam arks and outfit these old clunkers with them. Soon we'll have an invasion force the likes of which has never been seen," Amir told him, barely able to hide the grin on his face.

"Of course, what I told you is still classified," the engineer added with a smile.

***

Rodion listened to the researcher as he stood on the docks. Madrys, as a wolf, silently pawed the ground next to him. Her steal fur rippled with the movement of the plates that made up her 'skin'. Taking a deep breath, Rodion reflected a little bit on his trip through the T'sarean capital. Cero, it was truly a magnificent place for the young inquisitor. However, there was something that whispered in the back of the tinkerer's mind. It was the same whisper that he felt while in Magnagrad. He didn't belong here. While Rodion felt at ease in Cero, he knew that it was not the place for him. The man had gained both those traits which his blood bestowed upon him. The ravenous hunger of Varya and the curious mind of T'sarae. It was gift, but it also kept him from finding his home.

Watching the shipbuilders, Rodion caught sight of certain, covered, items being transferred to the old ships. Turning back to Amir, Rodion spoke, his voice coming out flat and emotionless. "Well, T'sukasa, I trust that since you have told me about this research, that you will keep me up to date on it whenever you can." Pulling the fingerless gloves that he wore even further down his hands, Rodion sighed ever so slightly. He had watched as they passed MUSE, oh what an establishment it was. However, the grand Aegis that T'sarae himself built loomed over them.

"It was not because T'sarae thought gold was pretty." Rodion abruptly changed the subject. It was his terrible habit of doing this that made him so hard to understand. At least, that was what Tatiana had taken to telling him over the years. "While the entire city of Cero is truly beautiful, all of it serves a function. So we can surmise that the gold of the Aegis truly has some sort of purpose." Thinking for a moment, Rodion continued, "Perhaps he and Omestris had worked together to build it. Or maybe T'sarae had found another fragment of the Old One, a fragment that held part of the power of the Old Evil." The thoughts threatened to continue as Rodion forcibly put a tap on them. Instead, he changed the subject once more.

"Tell me, T'sukasa, what does it take to get accepted into MUSE?" Rodion had heard tales of the school, and how he wanted to see its jeweled halls. Bending down, Rodion's hair fell across his shoulders. Reaching out, he scratched the top of Madrys' head, "Get up Madrys, we will be going to the Karamzina soon."

The wolf responded slowly. Getting up on all four paws, Madrys stretched out her front two legs. Yawning, her ether coated fangs shone in the early morning. Streams of golden ether flowed underneath her steel skin as she shook her head, steel fur moving fluidly with it. Standing the three and a half foot tall wolf looked up at her owner, creator, and master.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Just sent the prompt to the Lanostran crew, @deathbringer @OppositionJ @vietmyke! Now to get to replying to EVERYONE! :p

I'm also EST. NYC Baby!

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Oh god, sorry everyone. Was stuck at work all day and didn't get home until earlier. Will try to have the Lanostre crew's prompt finished soon!

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

I kind of view Culmination as like, graduation itself, with this ball being like, senior prom? I guess? I didn't go to my prom so I have no idea what happens at those things, but yeah. :p

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

By the way! Scout and I are introducing a kind of graduation ball ceremony type thing that took place before Culmination in our collab. It involved dancing and drinking and dressing up, so uh, feel free to figure out what your characters did during that shindig, as it might come up again! >:)

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

The Marian Gate Station, outskirts of the Ruins of Iddin-Mar, Old Omestris

---

_{[written by Lovejoy, shylarah & CollectorOfMyst]}

Outside the cramped military transport the ice and snow was all-encompassing. The Corpseland of Omestris, they called it. It didn't look much like a corpse, for it was beautiful in its own way. Empty and silent, the snows pure and white, ungreyed.

Three days ago they had finally left behind the fringes of the machine city. They watched as those frontier ghost sectors, with the steam stacks of their ancient factories still billowing pale ethereal mist into the colorless sky, gave way to endless white. And if they stared out the rear windows, they could glimpse Magnagarad, rising like a dark mountain of iron against the white, encrouching everything. They were miles from its end, and still it seemed near.

Even after the invasion, all that existed in the no man's land between Varya and Omestris was a nigh endless snowfield. On their journey they would glimpse the odd SA garrison standing derelict upon the ice every now and again, and one time, they even saw the ruins of what looked like an ancient Omestrian temple, but for the most part, the journey had been long, grim and boring.

Father Oren and Mother Ziotea sat in the train car, completely alone save for the young SA soldier sitting on the seat opposite them. Private Andrei Semenov had joined them at the lone station at the edge of Magnagrad, where they had taken the only train bound for Omestris. Semenov had known of their coming, and informed them that he had been sent to serve as their guide. When Oren told him that they didn't require a guide, the young man had become nervous and didn't have an answer prepared, only that it was his duty and he couldn't disobey his orders. It didn't take Oren and Ziotea long to figure out what Semenov was really there for. Two Omestrian inquisitors, returning to their homeland-- the Church had taken note of this, and had sent this poor, young SA grunt to watch over them.

When the train made its final stop at the station known as the Marian Gate, they found themselves at the precipice of a massive ice shelf which stretched miles beyond miles into the distance and then curved around again on itself. It was as if there was a massive wound in the ice, and far below them, cutting deeper into the ancient icebed than Oren or Ziotea had ever seen, lay the ruins.

Iddin-Mar.

***

The short Inquisitor did not fear the snowy wastelands of the world. She might not be able to craft an aegis with the skill of some of her fellows -- especially Ragnar -- but she had enough skill that a few hours out beyond the reach of the machines that kept city-dwellers warm was merely difficult, not deadly. The traincar was heated, of course, but while fending off the frigid cold that sought to sap warmth and life did chill her, Ziotea didn't seem to have the trouble with simple cold the way most did. Sure, it was cold, but even as a child on the streets huddled in a nook with Rodion to preserve heat, she was always warmer than he.

Ziotea wondered how her friend was doing. He'd matched her perpetual restlessness, in the days between the news of their orders and when Father Oren had suggested she join him on a trip to the lands of ancient Omestris. She understood why. They were rarely apart -- not for more than a day since...she couldn't even remember. Had they ever been separated, since they met? Perhaps not. Odd that it should feel so natural. Even when they were fighting, the only time she'd ever leave the room instead of just not talking was if she needed to beat something up. Breaking furniture was frowned upon; practice dummies less so.

All the same she was glad of this opportunity, Rodion or no. There would have been little for her to do in Cero even if she was allowed near the Karmzina before its launch. She would be spending plenty of time cooped up in the ark on their trip across the sea, and she really didn't care to start it early. Nor had she ever been to Omestris -- as far as she could remember, she'd spent the entirety of her life in Magnagrad. She felt no connection to the place -- she wasn't really Omestrian, after all -- but she did wonder what it was like. All she knew of the world beyond Magnagrad, particularly beyond Varya proper, was stories and legends. Omestris was spoken of as a land of heresy, where forbidden fire was kept alive. She didn't even know what fire would look like aside from its colors, the colors she'd been cursed with at birth. Maybe seeing the ruins would help her understand why, what it was that she was supposed to be. Why the Omestrians' god had abandoned them to Lord Varya and his followers, and the miserable slavery she'd seen just enough of that she would never forget it. Lord Omestris must have been able to do something to help them -- he was a god, after all. But if he was anything like Lady Lanostre, he probably didn't care. Even Lord Varya didn't care, not really. What she'd seen at Culmination....

She sighed, her breath fogging the glass of the window and quickly forming frosty patterns on it. Father Oren was quiet, and for that she was grateful. Yes, she should be getting to know the man better while she had the chance -- they'd had a few teambuilding exercises with the three Leviathan members ordered to join them, but they were nowhere near as familiar as the members of her own warband, even the ones she avoided as much as she could. If she did decide to talk with him, she'd rather do it without their watchdog present, but there would only be a couple hours after the young soldier's probable departure once they were back in Magnagrad. She felt a little sorry for him, really. If for some reason she and Father Oren really did mean to go apostate, what could he possibly do against two Inquisitors? He'd need incredible skill or amazing luck to beat even one of them, much less both, and he seemed uncomfortable around them to start with.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so white," she said at last. "Everything in Magnagrad is gray, or beige, or the color of rust. I didn't know a white like this existed."

***

Oren was watching their recent acquaintance through half-lidded eyes. It was a curious decision, to send this young man with them. Seminov didn't seem to be the best of spies. Especially when he was pitted against two Omestrians... even if one wasn't full-blooded, she still possessed an incredible ether pool, from what Oren had heard.

Speaking of Ziotea, she had seemed restless the last few days. They had made only a little conversation, mostly out of necessity or pleasantries. Their alliance was felt, not spoken, he believed. Still, she was on edge. Perhaps it was her separation from the smith? Oren had often glimpsed the two side-by-side throughout the years. And, if the gossipers were to be believed, they were more than just childhood friends.

The private shifted, and Oren's attention turned back to him. Really, the entire situation with Seminov was perplexing. Unless there was some other motive for his being there, there really was no sense to it. Inquisitors were well reputed for being elite fighters, so neither he nor Ziotea would really be intimidated by his presence. Unless they more expected only one of them to turn apostate, and the soldier was there just to give them an edge. As far as Oren could tell, he was almost evenly matched with his companion, though if it came to it, Oren was pretty certain she'd overcome him. In either case, a more seasoned soldier, some grizzled veteran, would have been better to send with them.

Oren felt the corners of his mouth twitch as he entertained the thought. Not many of those around at the moment. So perhaps it was just their only option, and he was thinking too much into it.

The train jolted a little, which meant they were slowing down. He opened his eyes and stood.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so white," he heard Ziotea say. "Everything in Magnagrad is gray, or beige, or the color of rust. I didn't know a white like this existed."

Glancing outside, his eyebrows rose at the sight. Oren... hadn't quite expected this. Well, Iddin-Mar wasn't exactly the same ruin he'd been to before, but still...

"And yet you travel with one whose hair is white," he said, a hint of humour in his voice. "But I suppose it is a brilliant view."

Sighing internally, he looked to their escort. "Well... shall we go see what else we might find?"

***

She turned to look at him thoughtfully, but needed no more than a glance before shaking her head. "No. It's white, but it's not the same color." A frown creased her brow. "Everything in Magnagrad is stained. Even us."

Ziotea didn't elaborate, feeling the change in the motion of the car and standing to grab her spear and spiked shield. The latter was slung over her shoulder, the spear resting comfortably in the crook of her arm for the moment. It wasn't so much longer before the train clacked to a stop, the steamworks sighing heavily as if grateful for the reprieve. She stepped off the moment the chime sounded to say the doors could be open, not bothering to wait for the other two. Her sturdy boots made muffled thumps on the platform, little more than a cleared area and a small building. Beyond, the icy ground abruptly fell away, leaving a gaping hole in the earth. Below she could see the broken forms of crumbling buildings, crouched in the snow like the shapes of the homeless who died during the night and were found frozen the following morning. The empty snowfields weren't the Corpseland. This was -- this relic of what must have been a proud race once a long time ago, before the Varyans and their Ravenous Lord came calling.

This place would hold no answers, she realized. What had she even hoped to find? But perhaps she could still take something away from it. Some clue as to what once was, and maybe a hint of what she was missing. Maybe it would teach her the right question.

Father Oren's question got him a grunt of a reply, and the small woman walked toward the edge. Aye, the place was a corpse, gutted and left without even a proper grave. And here they were to pay a visit to a legacy of bones.

***

"Wait for me!" the young soldier yelled, his voice trembling under his warming mask. Whether he was cold or terrified, or both, was unclear. Private Semenov was short for a Varyan, barely taller than Ziotea, and with the layers upon layers of fur he wore over his uniform, the SA soldier looked like a fat little bear standing there in the confines of the train. It was obvious that the lad was absolutely freezing, as he began to shiver like a rumbling engine as soon as he stepped out of the train car.The icy wind was galing lightly, its power not strong enough to stir the two inquisitor's coats in its grasp, but for a "regular" soldier like Semenov, it must have been bitingly cold.

"Welcome to the Marian Ga--"

His words were cut short when he saw Mother Ziotea standing by the edge of the ice shelf, gazing at the ruined majesty beneath them. Her hair was, hm. He couldn't quite describe it, but he found himself transfixed by it for what seemed like minutes, admiring how it contrasted against the white expanse around her. He turned suddenly, and found Father Oren staring at him.

"R-right! This way."

He readjusted the strap of his rifle and allowed it to fall casually at his side before hastily walking off the platform and towards what looked like a large circular hatch embedded within the snow. Strangely, its metal diameter seemed completely untouched by snowfall. Semenov labored through the knee-deep snow drifts before finally reaching the handle of the metal hatch, signaling the two inquisitors to follow behind. As soon as they stepped on the ceiling of what appeared to be a large bunker, the crunching of their boots against the snow turned to metallic thuds.

Semenov took one last look at the ruins of Iddin-Mar and sighed wistfully. "It's a... beautiful view, it really is, but we need to head underground to actually reach it," he told them before grabbing at the handle with both hands and turning. It took some effort for the young soldier to turn it completely, but when the handle finally gave way, a cloud of steam erupted forth from the thin gaps between the hatchdoor and bunker. The sudden change in temperature made the young soldier step back clumsily.

"Urgh... Yeah, ether lamps. They keep the entire bunker warm," he said, gritting his teeth as he struggled to lift the heavy hatchdoor. He grunted loudly, and finally, the hatch door swung open beneath them. Semenov climbed down a short ladder leading into the darkened half-lit bunker below, waving at his two charges to follow him into the ground.

Before they reached the bottom, the two inquisitors heard the echo of a gruff voice beneath them.

"It's Semenov! Oi, boychik, who've you brought along with you this ti--" The bearded soldier's words were cut short when he caught sight of Ziotea and Oren.

"I-Inquisitors?" a blonde-haired woman stammered to no one in particular, her voice astonished and filled with fear at the same time. A half-smoked cigarette hung limply from her lips, the currents of white ether within its filter fading out. She was sat at a plain-looking table, a deck of lazily-shuffled playing cards as well as a near-empty bottle of cheap virrika lay scattered on its surface.

The bearded man, seeming to remember his training, suddenly stood at attention. He wore a grimy tanktop and a pair of even grimier military trousers. There was no weapon at his side and even from where they stood, the inquisitors could smell the virrika on him. "Sergeant Mikhail, Sergeant Veena, this is Father Oren and Mother Ziotea. They're here to see the ruins," Semenov told them while ripping off his layers. He then removed a warming suit hanging from a rack and hastily put it on. Free of the furs and heating mask and now wearing the less bulky warming suit, the inquisitors could see just how young he was. Private Andrei Semenov couldn't have been older than fifteen.

The woman hastily put out her cigarette. "Your Reverences, please forgive the er... state of our garrison, we.. had no word of your coming," she said, her eyes burning a hole through Semenov. "We, uh, we don't get a lot of visitors," she added.

"That's right, if we had known--"

"Oh come on. At least we didn't catch you two fucking," Semenov answered, chuckling to himself. He stole a glance at the two inquisitors, hoping he'd see at least a smile from one of them. When they didn't seem to laugh at his joke, he cleared his throat.

"A-Anyway, it'll be night soon, so we should get moving. Next we'll ride the lift, which'll take us down to the ruins proper."

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@CollectorOfMystUm, I don't think they could. I basically see ether as magical blood, so no, people wouldn't just be able to survive on it alone.