dawn-of-worlds

[dawn-of-worlds]

One Last Day

Corobel starts turn 20 with 8 points: 2 (roll) + 1 (nonhoarding) + 5 (left over)

[Anyway, this is a bit late, but it's certainly my final contribution, and finality lends itself to procrastination.]

Command Avatar (-1): A night-singer “poison child” (one of those born with the holy curse of poisonous skin), living in the south-east of Incarien, resolves that his people’s passive and mystical role in history should resolve itself into something a little more imperial. His name is Left-Eye, of the Eighth Green Choir. It is well that history will ever but rest on the cusp of this unfolding, for it is a course of keen and unenumerable suffering.

[This is a resonance of the Two Stars, of course. Another fact about the Night-Singers: some of them will tell you, and some outsiders may even believe, that they may take any shape they please when they metamorphose: they simply choose the frog, every time, because it is the most perfect of all possible forms.]

Command Avatar (-1): The Heresiarch Juzan, an Oracle, retreats with a small circle of followers to a wind-swept temple-city in the Bone Wastes. Atop the lonely columns of a devastated acropolis, beneath a blue-and-orange evening sky, he founds a circle of ruin-worshippers, devoted to the cycle of history—the immortal crown of the world, that which encloses all things, which winnows the real from mere alternatives. For the endless tragedy which is time’s passage, the Ruined Church will mourn; in the liminal places, where the past and present mingle, they will keep their vigil. Besides the Sky, they venerate Omeara, Laneth, and Tepponilamek.

[Elihu Vedder, The Questioner of the Sphinx, Wikimedia Commons]

Command Avatar (-1): Strange incidents of possession spring up across the world. Eyes glow; voices boom; and the light that pours forth from wounds is certainly not the sun.

[Some False-Fires have started kindling smaller, falser fires in mortals; this is somewhat like possession, and the signs may only burst forth intermittently. The Fire may be transmitted in sublime and transcendent experiences in which a False-Fire is (generally covertly) involved (“you think that was a shooting star you wished on?”). Depending on the nature of the parent fire, the victim may become a violent menace, a furtive recluse, or a cryptic plotter. Over time, the victim’s insides will burn and melt away; eventually, a Pale Imitation of the parent fire will slough off its skin and emerge, flickering.]

Command Avatar (-1): Under the sponsorship of the Court of the Two Skies and the tutelage of Págar astronomers, beside the Violet Chambers and the Red Palace, an Ultimate Observatory is built on the city-palace’s mountain outskirts. Among other functions, it aims to calculate certain details about the Hatestar.

[Anyway, because there’s no point in thinking this up and not writing it down, and it’s been sitting in a notes doc for months: The Secret of the Moon is otherness, unknowability, finitude; it is, by definition, what may not be known. This is what gives human life its discrete and coherent existence, what made the sun finite and birthed the moon; it may not be spoken until the last day because its final expression is the end of the world and the revelation of what lies beyond it—the final decision.]

Command City (-2): In Meridian, the Occidental city ruled by prophecy and taboo, a vast mechanical calendar, the Garden of Years and Days, is constructed. The upper portion, visible to the public, displays unequalled power in predicting eclipse and comet, solstice and equinox; but most is not visible. What, in its hidden depths, do its oracles contemplate? Does it show them the weather to come, the harvests, the plagues? The turning of empires? The fate of the world? And what do they, of all people, need with an abacus?

Command Order (-2): Since I never got around it it, I’m taking the opportunity to specify some things about the Celebrants: tools of which they have the use, lies told about them. These are below the readmore.

0 points remain.

[Oligo did a wonderful thing in starting this game. It’s been a pleasure; I have been consistently amazed by the quality of ideas and expression people have poured into it—the god concepts, the writing, the excellent coastlines. I think we did a good job.]

Their reputation; legends which shadow them

They are calculating, ruthless, and mercurial, rigidly following strange designs, with an affection for aestheticized violence; their political program involves a vision of an ideal society, but also of an ideal history—and that involves destruction as well as creation.

No, really, when they appear in the epics, it’s often with stuff like the following: “It is given to you to separate holy from unholy. Which part of the man was holy, and which unholy? And the Celebrant said, ‘the soul was holy; the body profane. Mark you that I have divided these with absolute precision.’”

If their actions seem to contradict each other—well, some things resolve themselves only from an Ultimate Perspective.

In the beginning, there were 30 days in every month, but two were given away to make the Crown and Veil.

Creation's last day will involve the most beautiful sunset anyone will ever see.

Things they have; things they make

Blessings of wakefulness and watchfulness.

The fruit that the Great Flowering Tree still bears, which remains a potent ecdysteroid.

The great illustrated books of religious passages, parables, and apocrypha on which secular rulers pride themselves; these are called Florilegia.

The rare Suspension of Disbelief, ground snakeskin in chrysalis-fluid and Oracle-tears, which allows the drinker to see through falsehoods. Indulged in to excess—a temptation for those of a morbid and neurotic disposition—it strips away all of so-called reality, allowing sight only of the basic and terrible truth of Being. This is a terrible inconvenience.

The peacocks which wander the lawns around the Arboretum, in bright-skied Azimuth; the chameleons inside.

Its penultimate room, where paradoxes are resolved; it is in its inmost sanctum that the Morning Star and Evening Star became gods. It is open to the sky, but any who fly above it see nothing.

Colors too rich to bear, which draw blood to them in sympathy, which make the chest bloom and the heart leap out.

The power which commands a thousand kinds of sunlight: as it filters through waters and leaves, glints off snow, shines through the pure air of the mountain's peak.

The Eye of the Beholder—wherever it may be.

Things they can do; things that may happen to them

Your image imposes itself permanently upon mirrors.

Your vision breaks mirrors; you must wear a blindfold.

Your reflection is always smiling.

Your face, like Borges’s Zahir, cannot be forgotten. Perhaps it is always visible. Perhaps one who looks upon you will see every face as your face.

You draw all color in your presence into yourself; things pale before you; you may even be the only visible thing in any given room.

You may wield the Glancing Blow, in which a gaze long suppressed bursts forth with terrifying finality.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

The Breaking of the Messonir

Final turn: Tepponilamek has 7 points remaining this turn.

In the aftermath of the Great Cleansing, the Messonir enjoy a few breif years of joy and peace. The destruction of Krakshull and the end of Ohmling raids are met with great celebrations, parades and parties the length of the Ajuna, and in the years afterwards Messonir migrate into the now-free lands in Tulana valley in great numbers, travelling not just from the Ajuna valley and delta but from further afield in Nulat and Lekesh.

Yet soon the old conflicts between river and delta Messonir reappear. In the aftermath of their victory over Ohm of the Iron Tooth, the river Messonir’s contempt for their western brethren grows stronger, while the delta Messonir become increasingly aggrieved at how their logistical contributions to the Great Cleansing are ignored.

At the same time, the conflict between Tsallosis’ Council of Eight and the Mavens of Ippusima takes on a new dimension. The Tulana river valley is a match for the Ajuna in fertility, and within generations it will approach the Ajuna in prosperity and population. Ippusima, sitting at the place where the two rivers meet, is clearly destined to become the new centre of Messonir civilisation. This the Council of Eight cannot sand. To them this is not only a threat to their own power, but a threat to the outward-facing Messonir culture which they hold dear. If Ippusima becomes ascendant, then the Messonir will become ever more-insular, instead of taking advantage of the bounty of peace to look outward to the wider world once more.

Slowly, the Council of Eight make attempts to reassert (what they see as) their traditional primacy over Messonir civilisation. They throw their weight around in adjudicating disputes between cities, place increased oversight on traffic up and down the Ajuna, re-establish connections with smaller cities via a new expansion of the House of All Things to include newly discovered knowledge, and attempt to issue a new coinage, controlled solely by mints in Tsallosis, to deal with the debasement of the currency that occurred during the long struggle against the Ohmlings.

This last action is what convinces the Mavens that they must escalate the political conflict. Since the end of the conflict with the Ohmlings, the lands of the upper Ajuna have been plagued by social discord and unrest. Crime has risen to unprecendented heights, and cities see increasing street fighting and political violence, particularly between Wings aligned with the new faith of the Burning Path, which has spread north across the desert from Ktem, and those aligned with more traditional Messonir faiths like Astatism. The Mavens convince themselves that asserting their primacy over Messonir civilisation will allow them to calm these conflicts, and so begins several years of bureaucratic and diplomatic conflict between Tsallosis and Ippusima known as the Hesitant War.

The leadership of neither city wishes to initiate a military conflict; not only is the conflict with the Ohmlings so recent in memory, but the thought of Messonir making war on other Messonir – not minor fights between cities, but a full-blown war – is abhorrent to both. Instead, they harass merchants that call the other city home, compete to adjudicate disputes between smaller cities, and gather support to form economic blocs that will places tariffs and taxes on trade from cities in the other bloc.

On the economic front, Tsallosis is more successful, having deeper coffers and stronger trade connections to draw from; on the diplomatic front, Ippusima comes out ahead, as many cities have long resented Tsallosis’ arrogance. In particular, the Ippusima efforts to issue their own currency are far less successful than that of Tsallosis, and the upper Ajuna becomes a place where two currencies are used where the new Tsallosi mark is the only currency used in the delta region.

Meanwhile, Lakashima, the general who led the great victory over Ohm of the Iron Tooth, has led expeditions to wipe out the Ohmling hold outs in the mountains and wastelands near the Ajuna and Tulana, and to prevent them Ohmlings from gathering their strength again. As the Mavens grow distracted by the Hesitant War, Lakashima becomes increasingly disillusioned with traditional Messonir leadership, especially once she returns to Karakashu and is received by many former soldiers, river and delta Messonir alike, who have settled in the newly-founded city and would prefer her leadership that of Ippusima or Tsallosis.

Finally, the Hesitant War comes to a flashpoint when a merchant-barge from Tsallosis, owned and sailed by a Messonir named Ikoltu, is impounded and its goods seized by members of the Ippusima militia. They claim that Ikoltu is a smuggler, and imprison him while selling off his goods. Ikoltu’s business partner, Neremas, pleads before the Council of Eight to step in; Neremas is good friends with two members of the Council, and they swiftly order Ippusiman ships to be impounded and their goods seized until the value of Ikoltu’s ship is matched. This Order becomes known the Decree of Equalisation.

When the Council of Eight makes this proclamation, public opinion in Ippusima turns against the Mavens, as the Council’s actions seem fair and proportionate; the populace still hopes for cooler heads to prevail and further conflict to be avoided. But soon it becomes clear (to the Ippusimans) that this limit is in fact a lie, as the Tsallosi forces continue to impound ships. The Tsallosi, for their part, are simply trying to rech their self-imposed limit using the value in Tsallosi marks, and not Ippusima australs. With this, public opinions swings once more, and the Mavens, seeing their chace for a decisive confrontation, call up the Ippusima militia.

As the militia mobilises, a fierce debate erupts within the Council over whether to respond in kind. The possibility of a war between Messonir does not appeal to any member of the Council. Yet, backing down would be accepting Ippusima leadership over the Messonir, and show the Mavens that threats of violence will bring them rewards. Reluctantly, the Council orders the Steel Wing be sent forth, but to avoid conflict with the Ippusima militia unless attacked first.

As the Steel Wing marches out of Tsallosis, and the forges begin to be worked day and night to produce more weapons, a great sense of melancholy comes over Tsallosis, the most ancient city in te world outside Incarien, at the prospect of war against their fellow Messonir. Yet within that melancholy is also a determination, as Tsallosis’ Messonir see themselves as fighting to defend an open, scholarly Messonir society from the insular militarists of Ippusima.

As the Equalisation Crisis continues, Lakashima sees her chance. Gathering many veterans loyal to her, she assembles a small army of her own. With this, she launches a coup in Karakashu against the city council there and proclaims herself Queen of the Tulana. Small bands of those loyal towards her take over several of the new cities along the Tulana, and soon she controls a substantial realm. This domain is less populated than the lands along the Ajuna but its populace, composed of many veterans and many other poor settlers who owe their wealth to Lakashima’s great victory, support her far more fervently than the fractious messonir of the Ajuna valley do either the Council or the Mavens. Lakashima sends representatives to Tsallosis, Ippusima and dozens more cities, demanding that they send representatives to come and do her homage, so that the Messonir could be united in deed and purpose, as they had been in ancient times.

This announcement comes as the forces of Ippusima and Tsallosis march towards each other along the banks of the Ajuna while other cities declare their support for one city or another. The Council and the Mavens erupt into fresh arguments and debates over their courses of action while demonstrations break out in many cities. Word rapidly spreads up and down the two rivers of these developments, and the Messonir people, as if waking up from a long sleep, suddenly realise that their ancient civilisation has broken into three. Even if war is averted – and none are sure that it can be – it is unquestionable that the divisions between the Messonir have become too deep to heal easily.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

The Qattangi Diaspora

Tepponilamek has 4 + 3 + (2d6 => 2 + 5 = 7) = 14 points remaining. The Qurri who fled the Isle of Velarie during and after the War of the Isle found three new cities; Mistinaqa in the land of Iriola (-3), Ongejadir in the land of Kpomo in western Nulat (-3), and (due to inspiration from the Reflecting Gallery) Aźere in the Forgotten Lands (-1).

When the War of the Isle burns itself out, the Qurri population of the Isle of Velarie is a tenth of what it was just a few decades before. Many of these are deaths in the war, of course, but far more are from Qurri fleeing the Isle aboard any ships they can fit on. Kilkanaqa’s tyranny, the violence of the War of the Isle and the predations of pirates and Chivik fleets have sent a steady stream of refugees abroad. Many have settled in small communities in larger cities of humans, Sun-divers, Messonir and the like, but many others have founded new communities in the more remote and unsettled parts of the world, of which three are particularly notable.

Some refugees sailed west, towards the rich lands around the Great Canal, before heading south towards Tuula. There they found a stretch of coastline they named the Broken Shore, for all along its hundred-mile length were thousands upon thousands of small islands, each big enough for perhaps a pair of Huk or a small village of Qurri to make their home. Between these isles were small channels and straits with many strong currents, and here the Qurri settlers hoped that they would be safe from pirates and bandits.

The Qurri of the Broken Shore built villages amongst the small islets, and lived much as their ancient ancestors had (and many of their distant kin still did) in the Haebran Isles. Many of the Qurri had fled Qattangu long before its fall, to avoid the tryanny of Kilkanaqa, and named themselves the Lenniti, which means “Free Ones”. As their communities grew large and needed organisation, and unwilling to risk be ruled by a tyrant once more, the Lenniti gathered and agreed upon a Great Charter. In the charter, it was agreed that each village and town would elect two representatives; there would always be one in the settlement that chose them, and one in a central settlement, whose body of collected representatives would “guide, but not rule” the Lenniti. The two representatives would exchange roles every so often. Thus, the Lenniti hoped to prevent any one Qurri from amassing power.

For this same reason, as soon as their meeting-town, Mistinaqa, was built, the Council of Isles (as they named themselves) issued decrees limiting the power of alchemists. These Qurri were still of Qattangu, after all, and maintained the usage of the Falsuk for construction and warfare. Firstly, they proclaimed that no settlement was to have more than six alchemists, so that no entity like the House of Transformation could reappear. In addition, they proclaimed that the creation of Falsuk was to only be performed with the approval of the Council; by this measure they hoped to limit war and power-amasssing amongst individual settlements. Finally, they proclaimed that no alchemists could sit on the Council, or rule a village, on pain of retribution from the Council.

The few alchemists who had escaped Qattangu with the rest of the Lenniti were willing to accept these terms in order for the Broken Shore to remain peaceful and welcoming to them, and soon the isles grew prosperous, trading pearls, herbs and spices, dyes and alchemical products up the coast to Ker Atel and the Opal City. The small alchemist-covens of the isles grew to compete with each other in discovering new unguents and applications of their skills to make their settlements rich, and using the great many medicinal herbs of the isles and the coastal hills of the Broken Shore produced potions that could relax or reinforce the body for surgeries, calm the minds of those troubled by traumas, or help fight off ailments of aging in non-Qurri. The Broken Shore never regained the wealth of Qattangu at its height, but it was neither poor nor unfree, and the Lenniti were content with that.

Some other refugees sailed east, especially after the Chivik navy defeated the Qattangi fleet and it became clear to many Qurri that even if they would not lose the War, they could not hope to win it. The journey was long and hard, as the ships carrying refugees needed to avoid both the ships of the Chivik and those of the Dominion of the Burnt. Many eventually ended up on the westernmost tip of Nulat, a land known as Pkomo. A few Messonir inhabited the shores and river deltas of this region, which was full of thick forests in the south which faded to savannah in the north and also many sparse ranges of hills and small mountains.

The Messonir, though wary of these new arrivals, did not inhabit much of the land; they were confined to the coasts by the predations of the Ohmlings of the hills, who worshipped spirits of lightning and wildfires and often raided the coasts. These were the largest concentrations of Ohmlings remaining in Nulat after the Great Cleansing, but the warriors of the Ajuna Valley were unwilling to travel so far to aid their brethren in Kpomo. These Messonir were less inclined towards large settlements than their brethren to the east, and many were even nomadic, guiding herds of beasts across the grasslands and returning only occasionally to the townships where the libraries were kept. Instead of electing a number of individuals to a single city council, and doing so often, the Messonir of Pkomo often chose a single Speaker from a settlement of nomadic group, who represented that city until their death or disgrace, when a new Speaker was chosen.

Eager for allies to fight the Ohmlings, the Speakers of the cities of Tjomu, Mbaka and Dzwema – three of the largest cities in Kpomo – agreed to aid the Qurri in settling in the region in return for aid – particularly with the Falsuk – against the Ohmlings. The Qurri hated the Ohmlings as all civilise dpeople did, and counted amongst them many warriors, members of warrior-clans sidelined by Kilkanaqa’s rise or else soldiers that had deserted their army. They banded together, forming new warrior clans – the Spear-Beat, the Arrow-Whistle, the Blood-Wetted-Mandible-Click and many others – and leading their brethren in battles alongside the Messonir that drove back the Ohmlings and claimed land for them, particularly forested hilly valleys where Huk could live happily.

The Qurri themselves founded a city, Ongejadir, in one of the few unoccupied river valleys of Kpomo, near the hills where the eldest of the Qurri refugees had traveller to metamorphosise. It was here that the warrior-clans began to recruit young Qurri for the new campaigns into the uplands; here where squabbling alchemists founded three separate guilds who began deep (if mostly non-violent) feuds with one another, and here where the Qurri chose a Speaker from themselves in the manner of the local Messonir, who treated with the other Speakers of the region and helped organise the many factions of Qurri that had developed in the region into a choseive whole.

Each year the campaigns pushed back the Ohmlings more and more, the ties with the local Messonir became deeper as trade developed and many Qurri adopted Messonir religious practised like the reverence of Hanun or Astatism, and more land was occupied by healthy Huk. The Qurri of Kpomo had hard lives, and slowly became accustomed to conflict, but also took comfort that they dwelt far away from any true dangers.

Finally, in the closing days of the War for the Isle, an young alchemist named Kettoka began to dream. Wandering the Halls of the Reflecting Gallery, they saw refracted in the ice visions of the destruction of Qattangu and Viidako, the death of Kilkanaqa, and the scattering of the Qurri people. Despair almost overcame them. Yet they also dreamed of a land far to the south, forgotten by most and sparsely settled, where the Qurri could now live with the new techniques of controlling the Huk invented by Iltanka.

When Qattangu burns, Kettoka musters their eloquence and their zeal and organises the evacuation of many of the citizens, speaking of a distant land where the Qurri might live free of war. Many of the citizens that follow Kettoka do so their long faith in Kilkanaqa has finally been broken by the Chivik victory, and the fervour of Kettoka’s rhetoric, their organisational skills and their seemingly endless energy and drive draws them in and gives them a new cause to follow.

The journey is long, and those Qurri who begin to metamorphosise on the trip have to be slain for the protection of others, which harms Kettoka’s popularity some. Kettoka’s popularity is harmed further when they do not settle at the first sight of the Forgotten Lands but instead sail down the east coast until they reach a great bay, which is soon named the Bite. Inside the Bite, Kettoka’s fleet of refugees makes anchor, and the Qurri spread out and begin to settle the strange subcontinent they find themselves on – a land of cold winters, high mist-covered peaks, and dark forbidding forests that lack the warmth and vitality of the equatorial jungles. The mists and forests also conceal dangerous basts who have little hesitency in hunting Qurri, and the settlements they build are ringed with wooden walls to keep out the slithering Tangi, the horned Xoku and the shabling, moss-furred Gedeq from their homes.

Slowly, the Qurri make their home in this land, which they call Qollot – literally, ‘darkness’, raising a city, Aźere, amongst the fortified villages. Kettoka, their great dream accomplished, is torn between periods of manic leadership and soporific despair. Given that many of the Qurri of Qollot view Kettoka as a saviour figure, this causes difficulties. The few alchemists amongst the refugees establish a new guild, which they name the House of Rebirth, but they find themselves spending so long tending to the maladies of Qurri and Huk both they have little time for politics, and the raising of Falsuk becomes a little-used skill as medical demands on the Qurri become greater.

The Qolloti, based on half-remembered history of a time before the House of Transformation took control of Qattangu, establish a tiered kingship. Kettoka is named the First King, whose rank exceeds the all others. Then they name (form oldest to youngest) three Wise Kings, and three Just Kings, and three Dutiful Kings. The first would see to the spiritual and moral health of the Qolloti, as well as deciding on important matters of law and direction for the people as a whole. The second would see to the implementation of justice, the organisation of Qolloti territory and disputes between settlements, and the control of the House of Rebirth. Finally, the Dutiful Kings would see to the adminisration of taxes, budgets and community-wide labour amonst the Qolloti.

While this brings a measure of structure to Qollot, soon difficulties begin to arise. Coordination even in the small land is difficult given the terrain and climate; Kettoka frequently comes to argue with the various Kings on different matters of policy, and many of the younger members of the Qolloti community start a cult hailing Kelloka as a god, or the mortal incarnation of one, which creates further rifts in Qolloti society. Though they are far from the troubles of the rest of the world, the Qolloti have enough troubles of their own to deal with.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

Building and Rebuilding

On the post-flood central Occident, new cultures in Incarien, and underwater developments.

Corobel started turn 18 with 17 points: 9 (roll) + 3 (nonhoarding) + 5 (left over)

Corobel starts turn 19 with 21 points: 4 (roll) + 17 (left over)

Command Avatar (-1): In the wake of the Great Flood, chaos stalks the land. Cults thrive. Some menace the lunar passage, or the Secret below, or the temples of great Azimuth. The Two Stars grant the fearsome Sun-Diver warrior Qaheb, who survived the expedition and the flood, an immortal mission to guard the holy places. He bears the terrible sword Decision, which is a sliver of the razor-sharp present. His countenance is the white-freckled blue of twilight; pink-gold butterfly’s wings grace his back. His company is the Evenguard, who patrol the blood-red swamps and ruined towns rooting out bandits, rogue calyptra, and the myriad indecently proportioned shapes that menace travel.

The blood does not rot, for it is not permitted to die; nor will the earth admit it, so foul it is. Only inconstant water will dilute it, and so it perdures in attenuated pools of unnatural red, still bright as if fresh-taken from a living artery, but thin as iron-fouled water. In these, the sun will not show his face, nor will any happy visage be perceived—all reflections frown in horror, whatever the expression of the face itself.

Other than that, it’s a pretty chill place, sort of picturesquely post-apocalyptic. The flowery and vivacious life of the Occident springs eternal, if somewhat strangely. The survivors want to reclaim and improve the ruined land, but this will be the work of generations. Azimuth still stands, somewhat reduced, and the blow in the rest of the continent is more spiritual than material.

Command Avatar (-1): The House of Faces, with the inspiration of the ever-changing moon, builds an insurance policy against Kilkanaqa—hidden chambers in which souls can be regrown from pruned-off thoughts and memories implanted in an unconscious host. These slowly warp the host’s mind into an (imperfect) facsimile of that of the original donor. If the worst happens, the House’s highest echelons will be restored from backup.

Command Avatar (-1): The Oracles instigate the construction of the Temple of the Charism on the hill above the Nak valley where the Prophetic Twins are supposed to have received their vocation.

Command Civilization (-3): The socially marginal, the pioneers, the runaway slaves of the coastal Lunar civilizations disperse into the continental interior, forming hardy civilizations of nomadic herders and stubbornly independent farmers. These are the Pale Hosts. They ride moon-adapted mvao and silvery reptilian creatures, braving terrible storms of regolith and the punitive expeditions of the coastwise kingdoms. Often seen in more civilized regions as merchants and mercenaries, they are recognizable by their distinctive customs and pallid dress.

Command Civilization (-3): Around the Isthmus of Incarien, human/Sun-Diver kingdoms grow in power and wealth. Their culture is vibrant, fusing ideas and aesthetics from both sides of the continent, and half a dozen major states war intermittently. The richest is proud Vayak, of the thousand bolts of cloth, so called because that, at one point, was its price. In its palace, there is a great menagerie, where the trapped souls of executed criminals (small, furry, scurrying creatures) are denied the polar solace of Laneth. Its legendary founder, Ulam, supposedly came from the Nak ten generations before the pilgrimage of the Prophetic Twins.

Command Civilization (-3): Near the Gulf of Azmit, trading emporia traffic the goods of the northern regions, the Glass Steppe, and the more developed regions of Incarien, even as they fend off (or buy off) periodic incursions from western nomads. The markets offer fur, ivory, amber, ice keener and stronger than steel, the golden frost-rime of frozen souls, sky-flowers, slaves. The land is dotted with chiefdoms, only some of whom control emporia; the marginal, especially, are eager to pledge themselves to a slow parade of steppe hegemons as convenience demands. The greatest emporium is Olavern, of the Amber Citadel. Its doughty oarsmen brave the breadth of the Sea of Isles, and the priests of the great church are given to obscure contemplative rituals involving amber, glass, ice, candles, whale-fat, burning pine. Popular fancy imputes to it the sin of cannibalism, brought home in the empty holds of ill-fated northern expeditions.

Command Avatar to Found City (-1): The False-Fire Trance of Evening, bolder than his fellows in seeking the solace of icy depths, founds a new city on the edge of the Abyss, planning to dive further after various arcane preparations. His polymorphic retinue, Aphotic drones and overseers and servant-broods, settles into the muck and builds. The silt itself, and the luminous microbiota within, seem drawn to the great deep, streaming among the rooftops like gently glowing waterfalls. The fauna of the deepest places—endless forms, most terrible—flits the lightless streets. This is Barathron, the Poised. Its streets flirt with the great depths, subaquatic shanties looming, aurora-shadowed, in piles above the yawning fathoms. Its inhabitants are drawn to flights of fancy, to self-destructive longing, and to that final and most vertiginous fall. Some say they see lights in the deep. All feel the awful gravity of night; and, when they sicken or grow old, many simply float away, avoiding a mundane and natural death in favor of one infinitely more sublime.

Command Civilization (-3): Aphotics gradually begin to disperse beyond the control of the Fires, forming independent bands and villages nestled in the coral and kelp of the shallows.

5 points remain.

#world 02457 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

Rhyming Exodi

Those few Mera that survived Lach Lero's destruction, huddled together on the rough decks of Qurri ships, having lost everything but each other: where did they go? At first, to Puqumiki, but Puqumiki lies within reach of the Burnt still, and some did pursue them there.

But then, one night, one of the Mera proclaimed that he had received a prophetic dream. Far to the west, across the open waves, there lies a land of refuge, and they would be save there. The Qurri were sceptical, but after a lengthy process of negotiations (that cannot be proven to have involved psykik manipulation) relented. In several large ships, the Mera were brought across the waves, and at last they found the prophecized land, where the Qurri left them.

But it was not as they expected it. The Mera were accustomed to open plains and far horizons: this realm was one of mountains and forests. Even the coastal lowlands they landed in, though less rugged than most of the landmass, were still hillier than anything they'd ever seen. The survivors band together to establish a small town, the sole remnant of their once-great realm, and name it Lach Murola, the place of the last.

Without their mutant beasts, without their great city, without even their many years of research, the Mera struggled to survive in their new home. But they were safe, and they were hidden, and over time their numbers grew. They learned to clear the forests and establish farming grounds, to cultivate the plants of the island, and even to domesticate a few of its birds for eggs (some Mera, however, take issue even with the consumption of potential life, and thus abstain from this). Even so, they remain restricted to the lowlands around their city; a large quadruped simply cannot easily navigate these rugged lands.

Contact with Kaluuto occurs, in time. The humans, descended from sailors, still command many small vessels, and inevitably spot the Mera's coastal home. In the following years, some trade occurs, though always initiated by Kaluuto, and often brokered by the Psyk-resistant Ataila. Two remnants of once-great civilizations that could not be further apart, united here at the edge of the world.

---------------------------

Around the same time (the result of the same divine influence? the effect of a lingering mental link? or mere coincidence?) the Embrace of Shells, those strange communal Págar, decide to abandon their ancestral lands in the face of mounting hostility. They too travel west, carrying their great homes across the waves, and land on an ill-explored barren coast, where they found Lágat, a town that consists of no more than a handful of buildings: each a sprawling thing of immense scale.

Págar have explored this land in the past, but found it too cold and desolate to settle. The Embrace's shared homes save them here: a complex is easier to build, maintain, or heat than the equivalent number of single houses would be, and so they barely eke out a living. In time, they forge tenuous alliances with riders from the Invisible Throne and emissaries of the Deep Ones, but little grounds for substantive interaction are found, and the exiles remain isolated.

(2x command race, Haebarik has 3 power left)

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

The War of the Isle

The alchemists of Qattangu discover a new method to control the maturation of the Qurri (Advance City, -5), which allows them to bolster their falsuk forces ahead of the war with the Chivik in Viidako. The war falls into a stalemate that devastates the Isle, and eventually both Qattangu and Viidako are destroyed and the Isle gradually abandoned as Qurri flee overseas and the Chivik give up on trying to hold the war-ravaged wasteland.

On the northern coast of the Isle of Velarie, the Chivik settlers continue logging the forests of the Isle and harvesting the plants of its jungles, even as the defenses of Viidako are built ever higher and stronger.

On the southern coast, Vilkanaqa’s grip on power in Qattangu grows ever stronger. The outlying towns and cities see the independence they had crushed as all of the resources of the Qattangu state are turned towards a mightier military.

On the seas around the Isle, Qurri privateers frequently seize ships travelling too and from Viidako, and are hunted mercilessly by the Chivik navy.

And deep in a laboratory in a mountainside, not far from Qattangu, a journeyman of the House of Transformation named Iltanka makes a breakthrough, and achieves what the Qurri have dreamed of for many centuries; control over the very span of their maturation. With the right combinations of potions and unguents, they can control the timing of the transformation into a Huk, or raise a fledgeling to full-grown, or even bring the Huk to fertility despite unfavourable conditions.

Iltanka hopes that the Qurri can use this to settle in lands otherwise inhospitable to the Huk, but Vilkanaqa quickly turns this into a weapon of war, gathering huge numbers of volunteers who are matured to metamorphosis and then turned into Falsuk. With a vast force of Falsuk bolstering their forces, Vilkanaqa decides that it is time. The warrior-clans, the militias, the soldier-alchemists, the falsuk and their handlers – all are gathered together. Two expeditions are launched to claim VIidako, one by see and one by land. Kilkanaqa will lead the army, and their trusted admirals the navy.

For all that the seaborne Qattangi fleet is crewed by brave sailors, and supported by the enormous bulk of the seaborne Falsuk, they cannot stand against the submersibles and discipline of the Chivik navy. They clash three times; once near Viidako, once on the southeastern edge of the Isle and once not far from Qattangu. The first two battles the Qattangi lose decisively, though not totally (thanks, once again to the Falsuk, who the Chivik still have some difficulty fighting). Only in the last clash can the Qattangi be said to have won, and it is a pyrrhic victory where the Qattangi prevent the Chivik navy from raiding Qattangu itself but can do nothing to stop raids up and down the coastlands. The Qattangu navy dares not venture out and risk a fourth battle, and instead keeps order in Qattangu even as the economic situation worsens.

Meanwhile, Kilkanaqa leads the Qurri army through the jungles of Velarie to the lands where the Chivik have settled, and begins a brutal campaign of violence against the civilian population, burning any settlement they find and pillaging anything they can take. Kilkanaqa turns a blind eye to the violence their troops enacts on the Tiktik, instead making elaborate plans for the fight for Viidako. They are caught as unaware as anyone when the Chivik army emerges from Viidako to do battle with the Qurri, but the reason for doing so is clear; the flood of civilians to Viidako has put the city under strain, and with the navy away resupply to the city is slow. The commander of the Chivik army decides to risk an open confrontation rather than see the city starve.

Despite the valiant efforts of the Chivik, the Battle of the Singing Valley is a great victory for the Qurri and Kilkanaqa, and many Chivik die in the rout. Yet the survivors, including their commander, maintain discipline in the retreat to the city, and they soon take up posts on the walls to ward off the Qattangi assault. Kilkanaqa orders several quick assaults to seize the city, but after these fail then they settle in for a protracted seige.

For years, the stalemate continues. The Chivik navy raids the southern coasts, and many Qurri flee inland or overseas, spreading out so Kilkanaqa’s tax collectors and recruiters cannot find them. The Qattangi army brings ruin to the northern coastline, and renders Viidako unprofitable as a colony, with the Chivik state spending large amounts to keep it supplied. The seas around the Isle grow thick with pirates who feed off the conflict. Kilkanaqa leaves the seige of Viidako several times to bring back order to their domain, but each time they return to the earthworks around VIidako their control and power slips away again, a little more each time.

Six years after it began, the Chivik navy finally breaks into the harbour at Qattangu and puts the city to the torch. Tens of thousands die; tens of thousands more flee into the jungles and proceed t journey overseas. The once-mighty once-kingdom falls apart into a scattering of townships and small communities.

News reaches Kilkanaqa quickly of the destruction of Qattangu, and the Temmutokka knows in their heart that they have lost, and that Qattangu has lost. Kilkanaqa is old, and has felt the metamorphosis approaching for some time. For a moment they feel despair grip at them, and they contemplate accepting the end. Then that awful will, which made them master of their city, reasserts itself. The messenger is slain to ensure secrecy, and Kilkanaqa sends out orders for one final assault.

Every resource Kilkanaqa has access to, including all of the Falsuk still remaining, are committed in this great effort. Qurri die by the thousands on Chivik spear points and die in droves beneath VIidako’s walls. But Kilkanaqa maintains the pressure, ventures to the front lines to reassure their soldiers, and finally a breakthrough is made. Qattangi soldiers pour into the city, putting many buildings to the torch. They encounter stiff resistance, and the Chivik navy evacuates many of the citizens of the city, human and tiktik alike, but at the end of the day Kilkanaqa stands once more in Viidako, the city they have conquered twice, now a burnt-out shell where four decades before it was a bustling trading port.

Then word begins to spread amongst the Qurri of the fall of Qattangu, and the soldiers around Kilkanaqa realise that their  Temmutokka sacrificed so many of thei lives for a useless victory. Kilkanaqa attempts to calm the growing mob with their rhetoric, and redirect their anger as they have done before, but their words fail them; perhaps, at last, the metamorphosis has come for the old Qurri. The soldiers care not, and slay their leader in Viidako’s main square. The discipline of the Qattangi army collapses, and many of the soldiers flee back to Qattangu to see what has become of their bond-mates, teachers and friends. Many die in the jungles of the Isle, to the beasts that dwell there or to thirst and starvation as they wander the devastated lands.

The War of the Isle ends with a whimper. The coastal regions of the Isle lie devastated, ruined by the marching of armies, the burning of towns and cities and before that generations of logging. The bustling southern coast becomes quiet and pirate-infested; many Qurri flee overseas and build new settlements, and those that remain venture further inland, their communities becoming smaller and more insular.

Viidako remains held by the remnants of the Qattangu army, now only the largest of the Isle’s small settlements; in a bid to escape the retribution of the Chivik navy they used what Falsuk remained to ruin the city’s harbour. With Viidako no longer usable as a port and so much of the landscape devastated, the Chivik give up on the Isle as a colony, and the navy relocates to their base on Hakkas.

With the fighting over and the land quiet, slowly, ever so slowly, the ecology of the Isle of Velarie begins to recover after centuries of exploitation.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

Independence, Inauguration, Investigation

(Haebarik has 1+3+2d6->8=12 power)

The Azure Reach, which we last visited after they asserted their dominance over all of Rasira, finds its sphere of influence ever-shrinking.

Wera, gate to Incarien, has become a vassal in name only. Its payments of royal tribute have become increasingly less reliable, its nobility pays ever less mind to the wishes of the throne. And why would it? Palk is far-off: its allies close by. What is their so-called sovereign going to do, send an invasion fleet halfway across the world, only to have it shatter against the combined might of all the peninsula?

Or would Wera be the one to break this tenuous balance? A declaration of independence is certainly possible, from a military perspective. But such an act would almost certainly provoke an embargo from Wera, however temporary, and the recovering city cannot risk losing its status as bridge between Incarien and Lekesh.

The solution is a pragmatic one. With a minimum of fanfare, Wera is allowed to buy its own independence: a considerable sum, paid over many decades. The Azure Queen proclaims herself Empress, elevates Wera's governor to kinghood, then relinquishes all claims on the city and its territories.

Its coffers somewhat swelled, the Reach turns its eye east, and a large expedition is planned and supplied. The ships first head towards the lands of Neldor, resupply one last time, and then embark on one of the longest deepwater journeys sailed so far, sailing around the Sea of Spires (in the future, ever-bolder captains will come to take shortcuts through the Sea; most survive this), then turning south.

They arrive at northern Haebrach: a land uninhabited, except for the odd ohmling or mermaid. A settlement is founded, called Vanel after the now-empress, and over the following years, the land is systematically plumbed for riches. Prospectors head into the mountains, loggers cut down jungle trees, hunters venture inland.

Results are mixed. A smaller (but obviously still enormous) breed of Gegant dwells in the jungles, which proves to be a valuable source of ivory. Gems are found, in sufficient amounts to warrant the creation of mines. Herbs and flowers unknown to the world prove sources of valuable medicine. Even so, compared to the richness of Velarië's Isle, Haebrach's jungle is disappointingly mundane.

The empress is satisfied, though. The Reach has been extended to a new continent, and this time its settlers are alone: no rivals, no allies, no temptation to cut themselves off from the homeland. And perhaps this humble camp will prove a first step on the road to greater things?

(Command Race (3 power), 9 left)

#world 02457 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

Hosts to Host, Stone to Stone

[turn 19: (4+3)+(4+4)=15, 15-1(avatar)-3(order)=11]

Syfos travels through Siktun's subterrannean territory, all the way to the gates of Erland's realm. It holds a last concert for its followers before disappearing where none of them can follow. They return with a newfound understanding of the presence (and proximity) of the divine. The Potters' Guild exploit the opportunity to tighten the bands of the Triple Entente, and align Pai, Vorond, and the rest of the eastern peninsula, creating the Hamtarian League.

For years, Syfos slowly rolled around the streets of Siktun, and through the tunnels surrounding it - all the while accompanied by great crowds of tiktik and humans, and even some Kautaila, and people from even further afield. Wherever it went, and endless festival followed, and it would not have been wrong to say the incessant adoration somewhat went to Syfos' head (had it had one).

But not even Syfos' own enjoyment could hold it up indefinitely, and eventually the stone passed out of the urbanized areas, into the wild underground. Here only the most dedicated fans followed it, but it remained a great group. And though its songs attracted many predators during the long and slow journey, they too were pacified by them and none in the entourage was harmed. The passage through these lands took years, and many went home eventually, though some new people joined too - both those tracking after them from behind, and the occasional group of Ayidyid living beyond the frontier of civilization. Still, it was a slowly shrinking group, and they only numbered in their hundreds when they at last reached their destination.

In the dark depths of the underworld, not far from the place where Aelmd bridges the barrier of the ground, there stands a great gate. It is made of unmarked black basalt, and stands eternally open, but only few find their way here - and those that do know not to abuse its inhabitant's hospitality. This is where Syfos travelled, and this is where its entourage followed, and when they crossed the threshold, they were welcomed, like many before them, into Erland's wondrous halls. They were served a meal fit for queens, and permitted to listen as Syfos recounted all of its adventures and all the parts of the world it had visited. And it was a song that surpassed any Syfos had sung before; transcendant and beautiful beyond compare - and all that listened, though they did not know the tongue of stones, felt they profoundly understood it.

And Erland was pleased, and welcomed Syfos deeper into his realm, those warm depths of the earth it had not known since the cruel whim of a Giant had tore it up through the cool ocean. But its followers were not permitted to accompany it, and were instead turned back, to return to the lands of mortals.

Though many were disappointed that their journey was at an end, they returned with a great deal of knowledge of the world, and a deep understanding of the power of the gods. And though many had before circadians, or celebrants, or traveller-worshippers, or followed some other faith, when they returned they all were devoted to the Stone Muse and the Fire Within the Earth.

As they told everyone of their journey, many repeated their pilgrimage, and though many never found it Erland was visited by a great many people in the following years. As ever, the god of hospitality invited every visitor to a meal at least once, though they were never permitted to stay for long, and only those deemed exceptional were welcomed back for a second time.

Hamtari is that peninsula in eastern Incarien BTW.

On the surface, word of the divine halls, so close beneath them quickly spread across all the plains of Nak. As they heard this, and knew part of their ancient secret had been exposed, the venerable Potters' Guild called to a grand meeting in Unimaa. A great number of people from all the settlements in the area came there; they were glass-workers and bankers, farmers and traders, miners and politicians, soldiers and priests. Most were humans, but many hewn also appeared, and even quite a few Tiktik. Only a select few knew the deepest secrets, and many were even unaware of the connection to Erland, but at this great meeting, they all gathered to discuss the future of the Guild.

In fact, there were two meetings taking place at once; the great public one, helped along with plenty of food and drink, and the small secret one, with cool sobriety. But as the mood of the grand festivities turn to universal brotherhood and peace between cities, the secret council of Grandmasters too determines that the time is right to use their considerable influence to promote such unity, and egg them on, and they intimated to key people how they could be helpful in bringing this glorious future about. Thus, when the revelry was over, and the members retrned home, many were carrying instructions, and over the next few years, they each played their small part in aligning the cities of east Incarien economically, militarily, and politically.

And soon enough, the cities of the area, one after the other, entered into defensive agreements with the Triple Entente, until that became too much of a misnomer, and it instead came to be called the Hamtarian League. The cities within the league were still independent (except in the cases where they were vassals of one another) but became ever more closely aligned. And though their only formal bonds were through treaties, and they lacked official interstate institutions, the regular meetings of the Potters' Guild grew more important too in their age-old function as an informal forum for peace and cooperation.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

Dulkuniigaŕ, the Fortress of Night

In Tuula, the Havonaar respond to the Great Collapse by launching a mission to colonise the region after the upheaval subsides. Led by Viggoka, Aggumagak’s surviving apprentice, they found Dulkuniigaŕ, the Fortress of Night, on the shores of the recently-formed Lake Baudang (-3).

Gaggunaŕkul is a city of mighty ziggurats and vast slave-slums. Gaggunaŕkul is a city of serene pools, gladiator pits, bustling workshops and empty plazas. Gaggunaŕkul is a city of all the cruelties of the conscious mind under daylight and all the horror of nightmares under the veil of night. It is a city of dreams. But it is also a city of schemes.

The Havonaar do not trust one another, and have bound themselves in vast webs of obligation, oath and geas to ensure they do not need to trust one another; they simply need to trust in the self-interest of each other. Yet within these bindings, they constantly manoevre to gan advantage over each other and secure a little more power for themselves, before the titansleep claims them and their influence wanes as they sleep.

The Havonaar only rarely leave the city itself; many command their estates outside the city entirely through dreamwalking with trusted slave-senescals, while others use mortals enthralled by mental magicks to carry messages and oversee the maintenance of their domains. Gaggunaŕkul is a terrible place, but it is a place where the Havonaar’s magical might have so warped the landscape that all other cities seem but pale reflections of it.

The Great Collapse threw Havonaar politics into chaos. The Havonaar remember well them being cast out of the Reflecting Gallery; more than any mortal race save perhaps the Atai, they know the true power of the gods that walk the world, and fear them unreservedly and utterly. The Collapse seemed to them to be a warning from some god or other that they should turn from their path, and the Havonaar are not stupid.

The Havonaar spend a decade using all their resources and mystic might to seek out the source of the Collapse, even as the old factions amongst their kind fall apart and new political divides appear, each new faction putting forth their own belief on who caused the Collapse and how the Havonaar should respond. In this upheaval, Aggumagak regains his strength from his injury, using a dangerous technique to fall into brief bouts of titansleep before waking and continuing his plotting. He is an old Havonaar and strong, and his opponents are wary of him.

Yet Aggumagak has changed much in his time fighting wars abroad, and his injury. The Havonaar have long expected – no, assumed – that one day they would achieve dominion over all the world. It is only by spending so long outside the Fuligin City, seeing the heights to which other peoples have advanced, that he has realised that no city, no matter how mighty, can rule the world.

To this, Aggumagak has bent much of his influence and will towards a plot to establish colonies of Havonaar further afield. He hopes these colonies will both encourage the population of Havonaar to grow quicker, and serve as forward bases for future expansion. That they might serve as alternate centre of power is a worry for some, but as Aggumagak points out, it matters little that the groups Havonaar are distant from each other when they can dreamwalk to communicate.

Aggumagak has organised for the first of these colonies to be founded when the Titansleep claims him; he realises shortly beforehand that he can hold off the curse of their race no longer, and that it will be many years before he wakes. Desperate, he calls upon Viggoka to command the effort in his stead; the obligations placed upon him, and binding him to her, should be sufficient to continue to manage the project.

Soon Viggoka sets out north and west with columns of slaves from many races, wagons full of supplies, and many low-ranking Havonaar to serve her. She heads towards the great, newly-formed lake already being called Baudang, where her fellow apprentice and lover was killed years before. There, on the lakeshore, she founds Dulkuniigaŕ, the Fortress of Night, to be a bastion for the Havonaar into the future.

Yet Viggoka cannot look at the landscape, which still bears scars of the Great Collapse beneath the new-grown foliage, and not feel uneasy. She takes to going for long walks over the landscape, dwelling on her lover’s body lying somewhere beneath the overturned earth. The Fortress grows steadily under her leadership, but while a place of darkness and nightmares it has not the oppressive cruelty of Gaggunaŕkul, and many of her slaves and servants are grateful to her for getting them away from the Fuligin City.

Far away from the influence of the other Havonaar and her master, closer to the lands of the Usfir and the Dzadek, Viggoka begins to get ideas.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

The Great Cleansing

Tepponilamek has 2 + 3 + (2d6 = 2 + 5 = 7) = 12 power. The Messonir armies destroy the Ohmling invasion force and then begin a campaign to wipe out the Ohmlings from the Tulana valley. They do so, capturing Krakshul (which is renamed Karakashu).

Once more, the Ohmlings descend upon the Ajuna Valley in a horde vast enough to swallow cities whole.

Once more, the Messonir take up arms to defend their homeland, their cities and fields, their books and libraries.

Once more, the waters of salvation run red with blood.

Yet this time, the Messonir are ready. The endless skirmishing and raids in the region south of Ippusima have given them time to learn both their enemy and the art of war; meanwhile, most of the Ajuna valley, spared from regular raids by the Ohmlings, have returned to their ancient prosperity, a prosperity tempered by a willingness to fight in defense of their homes. Tsallosis’s Steel Wing is not the untempered Iron Wing of old, but a skilled and well-drilled modern army; the militias of Ippusima are well trained in the use of pike and crossbow while the rich families of the city support bands of skilled cavalry to win themselves glory and influence.

The armies of Ohm of the Iron Tooth descend down the valley of Tulana from Krakshul, eager to seize Ippusima and then Tsallosis, as they failed to do centuries ago. Ohm of the Iron Tooth is a mighty specimin of Ohm-kind, with a crocodilians’ hardskin, sharp teeth and powerful jaws. As at home in water as on land, he gained infamy amongst both Ohm-kind and Messonir for his daring raids upon the Ajuna valley before he returned to Krakshul and gathered the tribes of Ohmlings under his banner.

Yet the forces the Ohmlings encounter prove to be more than their match. The Maves of the Tower appoint a well-tested commander, Lakashima, to lead the defense, and in a great battle on the banks of the Tulana she breaks the Ohmling horde and sends it scurrying up the valley. Ohm of the Iron Tooth dies peppered by Messonir crossbow bolts.

The army of Ippusima is badly bloodied by the battle, but when Steel Wing arrives from Tsallosis (to jeers from the citizen-soldiers of Ippusima) a new plan is hatched; to wipe out the Ohmlings from the region once and for all. With the Steel Wing taking the lead and the Ippusiman force following it, the two armies begin a slow but steady march up the Tulana. Small forces are sent outwards to wipe out isolated Ohmling settlements; larger ones are put to siege or taken by treachery. The wealth of Tsallosis and the will of Ippusima combine to send a steady train of supplies up the Tulana to keep the army fed; the whole of the Messonir civilisation is united as they have not been since ancient times, determined to end the Ohmling menace once and for all. The campaign becomes known as the Cleansing.

After four years of brutal fighting, the first Messonir armies reach the headwaters of the Tulana and stand where Pesna did, having made the same great journey. Behind them are the ruins of hundreds of Ohmling encampments; while some Ohmlings of course survive, there are no more than in any other part of the world; the world’s largest Ohmling population outside of Incarien has been nearly wiped out.

It is not long before Messonir settlers begin to move into the Tulana valley to claim the newly-cleared land. The maze of channels and river-islands knowns Krakshul, once the heart of the Ohmling lands, is soon reborn as the new city of Karakashu, and a dozen more smaller cities sping up the length of the river. The land around Karakashu is fertile even by the standards of the region, and many veterans of the Cleansing settle there. It is not long before Messonir across Nulat are proclaiming a new Golden Age is upon them.

Yet the conflicts between river and delta Messonir do not disappear; in fact, they grow stronger. The river Messonir, led by Ippusima, grow more contemptuous of the Tsallosi, who did not arrive until the hardest of the fighting was done and Ohm of the Iron Tooth was defeated. The delta Messonir, led by Tsallosis, grow outraged at how the river Messonir ignore all their effort and expense in maintaining the armies in the field for the long Cleansing.

With the Ohmling threat gone the delta Messonir focus once more on their contacts with the outside world, with Lekesh and Incarien, while the river Messonir, uncertain over their future and with their great military strength seemingly unneccessary, enter a period of disorder and uncertainty; crime and small-scale conflicts become more common, and the influence of new religious sects including that of the Burning Path, brought to the Messonir lands by brave missionaries from Ktem to the south, begins to grow.

The Messonir do not know it, but their ancient unity is about to break completely.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

And the fish that is in the river shall die...

(Haebarik has 5+3+2d6->6 = 14 power)

How did it happen?

On a day much like any other, a quake shakes the shores of the worldly blood lake. A gurgling sound resonates, a hum intensifies in volume. Seconds later, a flood of blood appears, propelled outward from the lake's center at incredible speed. The sanguine tsunami uproots trees, smashes dams, cuts rivers between hills.

Lakeside Azimuth is badly struck. Though much of it was protected by city walls, outlying farms and towns are washed away, and famine grips the city. Nearby vassals suffer the same fate, and large swatches of the population move out towards coastal towns; some travel even further, and board ships bound for destinations all over the Pearl Sea.

The Omphalos, too, is claimed by the floods. In the depths of the underworld forms a small crimson lake, fed by a slow cascading drip from high above. The Heart Hypogeum is extinguished, and only flickers back to life a month after the disaster: it now shines with a crimson light much less bright than its former glow.

When all is said and done, large swatches of the Occident's inland plains have become shallow extensions of the blood lake: sometimes no deeper than a few feet, but truly massive in surface. On the moon, the central lake has shrunk slightly, its level a bit lower than it was before: indeed, the very cause of this catastrophe seems to be nothing more than a spontaneous descending movement of the lunar bridge's opening; no more than a handful of feet, but enough to displace a sea's worth of fluid and so cause great calamity.

Some, in the years following the disaster, hold responsible the Págar, whose machinations ended the closing of that great bridge betwixt the world and its moon. Some blame the serpent god, view this as his reaction to the war on his truthgates. Some believe themselves the victims of Corobel's wrath, and seek forgiveness.

The truth a few dare fear, is that neither mortal hubris, nor supernal malice, nor divine wrath explains what happened. They whisper that perhaps, what they call a disaster was a prayer of others: a prayer to explore, to see more of the world, to reach that which until then was cut off, a prayer hoped a thousand times by a thousand minds.

Was this the true cause? None can tell: all that can be said for sure is that in the aftermath, many Calyptra come to inhabit the depopulated central Occident. Some become simple solitary predators, lurking in the shallows and burying into mud when the sun rises, but a large number claims and guards the Omphalos's ravaged staircase. In time the vampires found the underground settlement of Night-Without-Dawn. Lured by the promise of a dwelling-place utterly without sun, many vampires come to swell its ranks, and the town quickly usurps previous go-betweens in the flow of underground resources to the moon.

(Catastrophe 10 pw., Command Race 3 pw., 1 pw left)

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

War and Peace

[turn 18 continued 6-1-1=4]

The Dancing Plague abates, and conflict in the underworld begins anew. Hard fighting especially between Chivik and the Confoederation, and in the area between Vennes and Retvik.

Meanwhile, Syfos visits Siktun, brokers an alliance between the cities of east Incarien, and enters the underworld.

War... Never Changes

As the Tiktik adapt to the dancing plague, both by travelling less and by learning how to keep safe, the earworm declines. Without victims, it can only echo so long through the empty tunnels before ringing out, and from the early 930s , the underworld is again mostly safe to traverse (as much as that was ever the case). With this, the Tiktik again grow more daring in their expeditions, and the interrupted wars resume.

The decades of peace, while mostly cutting off communications and trade within the underworld, have allowed the cities to recover, rebuild, and entrench themselves. With the establishment of its surface colonies, Chivik has gotten unprecedented access to the materials and technologies of above. First and foremost this means wood, which sees much use in construction and furniture, due to its light weight and ease of working. Some attempts are made to use it for light-weight pikes, but is mostly too expensive to be used for military purposes. The one exeption to this is projectile weapons. Previously unheard of in the tiktik arsenal, arbalests, capable of piercing both steel and shell, quickly find their place in Chiviks armies, and help them win early victories, once again securing core parts of the empire. But while the other powers lack access to wood, they quickly adapt the technology to traditional underworld materials, and before long Chivik too uses steel arbalests.

But the new military technologies do not in the end help decisively turn the tide one way or the other. By 940 RIQ the frontlines have mostly stabilized, with Chivik only retaining (and strengthening) control of its three closest vassals. Though fighting remains hard on Chivik's eastern and western flanks, the south and north have cooled into unofficial ceasefires.

Give Peace A Chance

One reason the northern theatre in particular sees little action, is that Siktun's attention is focused much more on the surface. For decades, that is where its traders have gone for wealth, where its diplomats have gone for allies, and where its excess population has gone for land. Its people also follow a circadian faith, and worship the sun and moon, and so have little interest in the underworld beyond their own twilit corner.

The human settlements nearby were intitially wary of the new neighbours, but in the days when Kǎlkayer yet terrorized the land, any protection was appreciated, and so many of the inland towns turned to Siktun for aid and leadership. In the decades since then, the danger from the sea has been defeated, and the resurgent Wera has made some discontented noises about its former territory. In these years, the tensions come to a head, and war seems to be imminent, so in a desperate last attempt to broker a lasting peace, the Siktuntun invite the Werans to a conference near the edge of the pit, with Unimaa as impartial guarantor.

Initially, negototiations go poorly; the Werans are as irredentist as ever, while the Siktuntun's suggestion of some minor/symbolic monetary compensation is taken more as an insult. Only the influence of Unimaa's representative, who seeks to secure peace on Incarien due to worries about wars overseas, keeps the entire thing from falling apart. Still, the conference is at a deadlock, and seems unable to break it, until strange news interrupt the proceedings.

From across the river Kalaree, they hear, a mystical phenomenon has come; a stone, that somehow moves, and seems to sing - in the most breathtakingly beautiful tones. The well-traveled representative of Unimaa knowingly identifies this as a rock from Baled, but is unsure what it may do there. In the hope that a diversion might breathe new life into the conference, he suggests that they all go and see this curiosity.

And his plan would succeed beyond his wildest imagination, for when the diplomats arrived at Syfos, they were struck deeply by its songs, and as they followed it, they all recognized it as a divine sign that harmony should reign between their peoples, and they quickly drew up an accord that would bring them all together in defense of one another, and prevent conflicts between them.

With subsequent additions, the Tripartite Entante establishes free trade and travel between the members, formalized religious tolerance, an elaborate system of military and economic obligations, and a condominium over much of the disputes areas. The compromises initially find many unhappy recipients in each city, but as Syfos travels further into Siktun territory, and down into the pit, the Siktuntun have a perfect opportunity to play host to many visitors from the other cities (and all over the region), and build up much good-will. Relations between the main members quickly warm, though some of the junior partners (who lack much say in the treaties) are somewhat unhappy with the arrangement.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

The Branded and the Burnt

[turn 18 continued, 8-2=6]

The fire-tenders call together an army, defeat the limited resistance of the Mera, and raze Lach Lero. They attempt to kill all Mera [it gets pretty gruesome] but many are rescued by Dominion missionaries, and join them in the west.

Brand

How do you find someone who can charm people into keeping them hidden? How do you capture someone that can read your thoughts, and knows you are coming? How do you fight someone that can control your thoughts? These and many others were the problems the Tarbra witchhunters faced, as they attempted to purge the Mera from their lands. And though they initially often met with defeat, over the decades they developed tactics and techniques, and became increasingly effective.

On the matter of cutting away their support, the solution was simple, but harsh: anyone aiding a psykik would share their punishment - regardless of whether it was done willingly or under compulsion. At first this decree was met with horror by many clans, but the witchhunters carried it out ruthlessly, and the Tarbra of the foothills at the border learned in time to regard any stranger with deep suspicion, lest they cause disaster for the entire clan.

Defences against psykiks are more complex, but a range of countermeasures are invented. The most popular of these is the application of fire (or at least heat). It is thought that branding yourself with certain sacred symbols protects against the wicked influence of Psyk, and because of this practise, the Witchhunters are also commonly called the Branded. (whether this method really works, or whether it is simply the case that the fanaticism and determination necessary to go through with it also makes psykik intervention more difficult has not yet been scientifically determined).

Burn

As the northern lands become more and more thouroughly cleansed from psykiks, the Burned turn their attention increasingly toward the south, and their ultimate goal: the complete extermination of the Mera. Larger and larger raids are launched, but still mostly retreat before the defensive forces of Lach Lero. But they scout the area well, and learn from afar the layout of the city, as well as its approaches.

One spring, the elders at Lach Heral determine the time to be ready, they call together a vast host from all across the lands, and sent them off to complete the task.

The army was led by Branded Feran, of the Hungry Wragh clan, who was a most accomplished witchhunter, and utterly devoted to the cause. She had participated in the capture of many psykiks, led dozens of raiding bands throughout the south, and covered her hide with every sigil known to Tarbra-kind. Under her leadership, the army passed through the mountains and plains unnoticed, and it was only when they had nearly arrived at the cursed magenta lands themselves that the Mera first raised alarm.

And while the Mera reacted in a quick and coordinated manner, it was too late. The troops they could muster were outnumbered, outarmed, and most crucially inhibited by their love for the enemy, and a great reluctance to harm them. Feran's forces felt no such compunctions. First they slew the forces that met them in the field, and dismembered their corpses, and fed them to the fire. Then they arrived at the walls of Lach Lero, which they had never before succesfully assaulted. But while the defences were strong, the defenders were not, and with stepladders and volleys of javelins, they conquered the walls.

With the walls taken, and the population trapped inside, Branded Feran commanded the city be burnt, and from this day, Lach Lero was no more.

Ruin

But though it was a great victory for the Branded, it was not a complete one. As the fires raged in the streets of Lach Lero, the heat made the crystal pillars of the city crack, and the psykik leakage combined with the despair of its people, and soon Lach Lero was not only consumed by a firestorm, but also by a psykik maelstrom. Now, many Branded fell, overwhelmed by the mind-wrecking tempest, and many troops retreated, leaving segments of the wall unguarded. So it came that some Mera escaped the city, though none did so unscathed.

But contrary to their nature, the Mera scattered to the wind, and though the branded were experienced hunters, they could not catch them all in time. As it happened, some missionaries from the Dominion were at that time present in the south, and when they learned of the horrors wrought by the Branded, they took in the Mera, and sailed away. Their pursuers, knowing little of watercraft, could only watch them escape, and call down bitter curses on their new enemies.

The Mera were thus driven from their land, but the land remained unwilling to bow before the Branded's wishes. Even when the fires in Lach Lero died, the psykik storm raged on, and though it would abate over time, it never quite disappeared, and could go quickly from lull to roar. And though they would burn the grasslands, time and again, it would always regrow magenta.

Additionally, though they would not know it for some time, many of those who survived being caught in the storm eventually developed some psykik abilities. For the most devoted, this was a shame they could not live with, and they turned themselves in for a fiery cleansing, but many valued their own lives higher than that, and kept quiet about their new abilities.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

The Great Collapse

Tepponilamek has 12 power remaining this turn. The Havonaar launch their assault upon Lanai and the Order of the Singing Stone marches south to meet them. There is no great battle; instead a stalemate develops, only to be broken a cataclysm (-10) as vast areas of southern Lanai collapse into the Underworld.

The Usfir of Lanai have barely begun to enjoy their freedom when a new threat arises. The Havonaar, whose advance northwards from the Fuligin City has been slow but steady over the century and more since they were founded, launch a campaign of conquest in southern Lanai. The armies, led by the ancient titan Aggumagak and his apprentices Okxun and Viggoka, march northwards and seize many of the southern regions whose population had swollen with refugees from the fighting between the Order of the Singing Stone and the Empire of the Zephyr.

The Havonaar conquest proceeds unlike that of the Dzadek; ahead of the army come troubled dreams and insomnia in the population. Groups of Havonaar working together can send entire towns into a stupor until they throw open their gates, whereupon those whose minds are most pleasing to the Havonaar are carried off as slaves. The Havonaar concern themselves little with the leadership of the regions they conquer, so long as the march of slaves back to their dark city is constant.

Yet as the Havonaar advance further, they encounter greater and greater resistance, their foes more organised and more disciplined. Itothimunda has spent the time since the Empire’s defeat cementing the hold of the Order on power in Lanai; though individual cities run their own affairs, the Order is the military for the region as a whole, based in Thorfuinir; each city contributes to their upkeep (quite willingly, given recent history) and the Order itself maintains the roads around the region and  collects tolls and donations to pay for their patrols and training. Itothimunda has, reluctantly, taken Thorfuintir as his centre of power and power over the local affairs of the city is being gradually usurped by his circle of lieutenants and the Orderas a whole.

Itothimunda is privately worried about the centralisation of power in the hands of the Order, and the Order cementing itself as a powerful military force. Many in the Order hate and fear not only the Dzadek but the Durra to the west, for all that Durra knowledge of blood magic was of great help to them during the Lanai War and that the Durra have given no indication of being their foes – the emnity amongst the Order for all that wield the winds runs deep. Yet for all these problems and concerns, the value of the Order is apparent when the Havonaar march.

The war is not fought as a single decisive battle, nor as a guerilla conflict, but as a series of raids and counter raids, small probing actions, ambushes and skirmishes. The Order are skilled in their use of the terrain, experienced in war, and fighting with maniacal fervour against those who would destroy their homeland. The dream-magic of the Havonaar is potent, but unlike the Order the Havonaar have no experience fighting a war on a vast scale against a peer force. A few of the eldest of the Havonaar remember their wars amongst the Dzadek before they unified, but most of those Titans remain asleep. Aggumagak and his apprentices often make mistakes, and Itothimunda punishes them dearly for it.

Still, the Havonaar advance is merely slowed, not stopped entirely. Okxun and Viggoka send phantasms to haunt Itothimunda while he sleeps, and the head of the Order fights a war over his own mind each night. Many forces in the Order are caught in Havonaar Spellweaving and slaughtered where they stand. The Havonaar forces consist of a small number of Havonaar supported by much larger numbers of slave-soldiers, and the Havonaar themselves try to stay far away from the fighting; the Order kills many slaves, but few of their masters.

Itothimunda, uncertain and unwilling to retreat into another guerilla war, decides upon the desperate strategy of evacuating huge regions of southern Lanai northwards to deprive the Havonaar of any means of advancing, or rewards from doing so. Yet before he can put this strategem into place, the war is upended by another source.

The Underworld is a vast and many-layered place, and even the Chivik at their height did not explore all of it. One tendril of tunnels and chasms extended far under Tuula, unexplored by any mortal race and inhabited by strange beasts that did not resemble any surface creature. Over the many centuries since their creation, the burrowing of beasts through the tunnels has weakened them, until all al once a collapse occurs.

On the surface, it is heard as a colossal earthquake that collapses buildings in Thorfuintir a thousand miles away and is felt around the world. A huge part of southern Lanai collapses into the chasms below; the topography of the region is reshaped in a few hours of shifting rock, subsiding soil and rerouted rivers. The death toll is vast and unknowable, and includes many poor Usfir and slave-soldiers of the Havonaar but also Okxun; Aggumagak is badly injured in a landslide and, seeing the devastation, retreats in fear.

As months pass, the fighting dies away; Aggumugak, weakened, becomes embroiled in political conflicts with rivals back in Gaggunaŕkul as the Havonaar desperately seek answers about the cataclysm. The paranoia of the dream-titans convinces them that some divinity – perhaps the mountain-spirits of the Tuukasinen, perhaps Tepponilamek, perhaps Erland – has taken offense to them, and many among them oppose further conquests until the cause of the Great Collapse is clear.

Meanwhile, Itothimunda leads the Order is helping bring order to southern Lanai. Much of the population flees the region in the wake of the Collapse, especially after several smaller collapses show that the region is unsafe. Settling these refugees in northern Lanai helps fill up wilderness spaces between cities where bands of Dzadek holdouts, bandits or Ohmlings hide, and the region is notably more densely populated than it was even two generations ago.

Meanwhile, the regular rains of southern Lanai gradually wear away at the newly-reshaped earth. Streams and rivulets flatten the unturned soil as greenery begins to grow on a landscape of barren earth and rock. These streams join into rivers, many of which flow into a newly-created basin. This basin, called Ulkomo by those few who dare enter the region, gradually begins to fill. And all the while, beasts of the underworld make their way out of tunnels and into the jungles of Tuula.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

A Place In The Sun

[turn 18: (5+3)+(4+1)=13, 13-2-3=8]

Chivik trains a new army in surface warfare, based in Viidako, and founds a new colony on Baled.

With the conquest of Viidako, Chivik's appetite for the surface has truly only been whetted. Surface goods flow like never before into Chivik, and the constant flow of emigrants lessens the recurring food-shortages. To secure the city, and enable further conquests, a new army is raised. Like the main army of Chivik, this force is based on mobilizing the resident clans, and remains a Tiktik only force (though others, primarily humans, are sometimes recruited as scouts and guides).

The terrain of Valerië is very treacherous, with deep jungles, and deadly wildlife, and the Chivikvik quickly determine that the best approach to minimize these dangers is to mirror the age old strategy of the empire in the underworld: fortify, expand, control. Thus, the surface army is specialized in sapping, and capable of quickly constructing fortifications, digging out vast tunnel networks, or clearing paths through the thickest jungle.

Continuous improvements are made on the earthworks of Viidako, and outlying forts and watchposts constructed. The military command further promotes the deforestation of surrounding areas, both to increase visibility, and enable faster movement. Thus, the frontier of the secured area is constantly being pushed further inland, and Chivik's grasp on Valerië tightens.

Meanwhile, the Chivik navy has been busy exploring more of the surface, and found the perfect spot for another base. On the southern coast of Baled, they set up a colony: Hakkas, at the mouth of the great Bay of Blades. The Bay is named for its many razorsharp reefs, and is very difficult to navigate, but within it, the skilled submariners of Chivik find a veritable treasure trove of precious and useful minerals, right at the surface. Many small mining settlements are built, feeding huge quantities of ore into Hakkas hungry furnaces, and keeping its great shipyards busy.

#world 02547 diegesis

[dawn-of-worlds]

Refrain & Renew

[turn 17 continued, 6 - 1 = 5]

Syfos travels through the lands devastated by Kǎlkayer, and reinvogorates them. With the power of music.

On its continued journey east, Syfos comes across a land twice devastated, first by the rising tide of Kǎlkayer, then by the Noble Poison. Everywhere the ruins that have been made of the Deep One's plans can be seen: rotting algae in a lifeless land.

But as Syfos passes through this desolation, its songs rejuvenates it, and reawakens the dormant spirits of the land. Hidden seeds blossom, algae twist and turn into something akin to trees, and animals return from where they had retreated further inland, or crawl up from the sea.

Soon, a strange forest blooms here, a peculiar combination of ocean and land, but very fruitful and lively. It is still visibly a remnant of Kǎlkayer's ambitions on the surface (or more accurately, their failure, as the Noble Poison grows plentifully here), but has become much more hospitable to all manner of life.

#world 02547 diegesis #this adventure is maybe superficially similar to the last one #and perhaps Syfos was taking some inspiration from the forests of smoke #but these are very much a nicer place to visit

[dawn-of-worlds]

Qattangu Transformed

Tepponilamek has 3 + 3 + (2d6 = 2 + 6 = 8) = 14 power. This turn, they spend 2 power of theirs to raise another army in Qattangu, as Kilkanaqa seizes power and attempts to retake Viidako.

News of the loss of Viidako to the Chivik outpaces the defeated army as it trudges across the jungles of the Isle of Velarie back to Qattangu. The House of Transformation hears of it with the rest of the city, as news comes in via traders on the dockside and quickly spreads; by nightfall, it is all anyone is talking about. The more astute of the Masters of the House realise, in the face of Kilkanaqa’s massive political influence and the failure of their appointed governors, that their days are numbered; even so they close ranks and decide to make a fight of it, hoping that they can get ahead of the political convulsions to come.

It is not to be. It is in this moment that Kilkanaqa throws aside the pretense of humility and respect for the House of Transformation as a body. They are not in the council room with the other Masters, speaking their piece to persuade the other Masters or the elites who watch the debates; instead they are outside, in the streets, speaking to the crowd.

Kilkanaqa’s position is easily summarised. The Council of Masters have proved incompetent in their choice of leadership for Viidako; the bounty they gave the Masters by conquering Viidako has been squandered; the Masters have proven that they are unable to properly manage the affairs of the great nation that was Qattangu, and that they, Kilkanaqa, who had won the great victory at Viidako, was the only one who could be trusted with rulership of Qattangu.

The Masters realise what is going on too late; their debate is spli between discussions of whether an expedition should be sent to retake Viidako and what should be done about Kilkanaqa, and they have made no progress on either when a mob storms the House of Transformation under Kilkanaqa’s command. The hated Masters are the first to be targeted, and Kilkanaqa manages to channel the energy of the mob towards the Masters (and their substantial palaces) while they take control of the House, the military remaining in the city and the Falsuk.

The violence lasts for the rest of the day and night, and more than just the palaces of the Masters are burned. Still, when the mob’s energy has burnt itself out and Kilkanaqa leads the military to put down the most violent remnants of the mob, Kilkanaqa stands as the most powerful Qurri of Qattangu, and soon declares themselves Temmutokka - Universal Leader.

When the retreating Qattangi army arrives weeks later, Kilkanaqa is the undisputed master of the city and its domains. Yet Kilkanaqa has few bad words to say to the governor whose retreat from the city caused the revolution that put them in power; instead, Kilkanaqa requests their help in strengthening and expanding the Qattangi military to prepare for war with the Chivik.

Over the next few years, Kilkanaqa consolidates and expands the strength of the city of Qattangu, reorganising governance, taxation and trade to be more efficient and removing the old powerfbases and influence netwrosk of the Masters. The House of Transformation is turned back to its old pursuit of alchemical mastery; as Kilkanaqa says, “Alchemy must serve Qattangu, not rule it.”. Kilkanaqa promotes a new Council, to run the House, chiefly researchers whose efforts they admired when they were young; they hope that this new direction for the House will lead to great returns. These reforms are well received by a populace who had grown angry at the arrogance of the House, and frustrated with corruption and political games.

Still, the populace is also eager for revenge, and Kilkanaqa cannot delay in giving it to them; nor do they want to. The conquest of Viidako was a symbol of their greateness; it incenses them that it remains in the hands of the Chivik. So soon, Kilkanaqa turns the whole effort of the Qurri state towards war once more, and orders the raising of new forces.

#world 02547 diegesis