[EMPIRE!] The Tzalteclan Dragon's Eye Festival [Archive]

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TheDarkDM

2014-10-06, 05:38 AM

The First Day (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3kNRyh_rj8)

The approach to Tzalteclan is a difficult one, near impossible by land. By sea is easier, though by no means free of peril - jagged rocks ring the cliffs of the Tzaltec coast, the corpse of more than one ship rotting upon them. Yet for the delegates of Telluris traveling towards the Dragon's Eye Festival, the way could not have been clearer. For months, the Tzaltec had been at work on the cliffs, hanging rippling banners of sturdy red leather bearing the symbol of the empire as well as arrows pointing the way to safe passage. And if that was not enough, the entrance to the fjord leading inland was flanked by a pair of massive stone braziers, their flames reaching more than thirty feet into the air. A potent symbol during the day and a roaring beacon at night.

Further inland, the signs of habitation grew ever more potent, the unworked stone near the coast giving way to painted and graven murals, some hundreds of years old. More red banners rippled with dangerous strength in the wind of the canyon, revealing the doughty chains binding them to the rock walls. Finally, the colossal Gates of Nezetkhamun came into view, the twin statues towering almost two hundred feet above the water. One was clearly of the Teotlkan in his prime, while the other remained unfinished, awaiting the visage of the old lord's successor. As the foreign ships passed beneath the shadow of the two fortresses, they were greeted by the sound of trumpets and drums, as rose petals were released from the topmost parapets to flutter down in a rain of red and gold. Then the cliffs parted, giving way to the glassy surface of the Bay of Stars. Fishermen plied their trade along the shallow outskirts of the bay, leaving a clear path towards the city of Tzalteclan. And what a city it was, the jewel of the Tzaltec Empire, its stone walls centuries old and fluttering with innumerable banners in red and black and gold. Above the walls rose the steppe pyramids of the Teotlkan's palace, the home garrison, and the hall of the Ten. Gates more then forty feet wide stood open at the end of the path leading up the plateau that held the city, and milling about it were crowds of gaily dressed Tzalteca, their skin and hair betraying their lineage.

As the ships and zeppelins arrived at the city's stone docks, they were greeted by the same crimson-clad adjutants that had attended to the Teotlkan and his children at meetings in the past, each one leading an escort of palanquins and an honor guard of Tzaltec Dragon Knights. The palanquin bearers were clearly not of the Tzalteca, their skin ranging from nut brown to ebony, their forearms and necks marked by the angular tattoos that denoted a Tzaltec slave caste. Still, disconcertingly, they seemed almost as jubilant as their masters, and met any looks of pity or disgust with confusion. It was a mark of generations of servitude, a mark only hammered home on the way into the city proper, as the delegates passed vast fields of corn and barley, and miles of squat longhouses that no doubt housed their tenders. Yet it seemed the celebration extended even to them, as masses of slaves could be seen through the narrow streets, sending prayers of thanks and glorifying the Teotlkan in the insulated courtyards of their compounds.

Then, as quickly as they had appeared, all traces of the Tzaltec chattel disappeared in the laughter of the Tzalteca themselves. The streets were clogged with scandalously dressed women and men, the air thick with incense and the slightest hint of ngath philungf vapors. The main boulevard through the city was flanked by tents packed with shopkeepers hawking their wares, from earthen pots to sizzling fish kebabs so strongly spiced as to bring tears even to Tzaltec eyes. At every corner, the ubiquitous Tzaltec priests led crowds of revelers in rhythmic hymns to Tzetultep and the Teotlkan, and as the processions grew closer to the Teotlkan's palace the music only grew louder. Eventually, they entered into a grand plaza, a golden sunburst spreading from building to building, the fortune of a king left unmolested on the ground. The Teotlkan's palace towered over everything there, layer after ascending layer of hanging gardens and open-air galleries, space enough to accommodate an army. And filling the plaza was the heart of the celebrations, a choir of hundreds arrayed in a semicircle at the gates of the palace, pavilions filled with fire dancers and drummers and gold-smiths. And to the surprise of the delegations, there was a tent for each of them, Tzaltec chefs preparing regional dishes to the most exacting standards, with ingredients procured at ruinous cost. Finally, the procession came to an end at the golden gates of the Teotlkan's palace, where one of Nezetkhamun's many consorts, free and noble-born Tzalteca all, waited to escort them to their chambers within the mammoth structure. No demand would be too extravagant for the guests on this historic occasion, no need or want would go unfulfilled. Such was the generosity of Nezetkhamun the Great, who promised to attend to his guests at the banquet of the first night.

Aedilred

2014-10-07, 02:14 PM

Debate about whether to accept the Teotlkan's invitation had raged long throughout council meetings for days before eventually a conclusion was reached. With so many other matters to occupy his attention, the king's absence was only to be expected, but there were matters of politics to consider too. No trade was conducted with Tzalteclan and it was only a few years since the Triumvirate had requested a blockade of their trade routes. Conflict was in the air and for a party ostensibly neutral, it was important to tread carefully. Besides which, Atheldynn reflected as the ship drew into harbour, Tzalteclan was rather closer to Jarrland than it was to Aloren.

There was something about the place that sent shivers down the spine. The city had all the majesty of Miji Mkuu or Xianzhi Urbe, but there was a persistent sensation of unease that penetrated deep into the psyche. Everything appeared calculated not merely to impress, but to intimidate, from the shipwrecks to the braziers to the colour scheme, reminiscent of blood on gilded armour. If he had ever wondered how the Tzaltec had succeeded in subjugating their neighbours, there was more than enough evidence here. For Atheldynn and his retinue it was all they could do not to assume servile postures themselves in the face of such a sensory onslaught.

His uncle led the way, unbowed and visibly unmoved. Jonas Grant was more than ninety years old, yet he gave no more sign of needing the cane with which he walked than he had when he was sixteen: any irregularity in his gait was apparently attributable to his injuries, not to his age. There were those who considered his vitality at such an age unnatural - especially considering his formerly vital twin was now held too old and frail to travel - but others claimed simply that if the Lord of Fire had failed to kill him, it would take something special to finish the old man off now. A leather mask covered the left side of his face, while a hat covered his scorched scalp where the hair had been seared off all those years ago.

Atheldynn himself was over sixty, but still he took inspiration from his uncle's bearing and drew himself up to his own full height, regarding the surroundings with a public gaze apparently dispassionate. He had never mastered his cousin's studiously blank face, but he could do a good enough approximation. Jonas's eyes seemed to burn with cold disdain as they passed through the city - but then, they always looked like that.

TheDarkDM

2014-10-08, 03:40 AM

Kingdom of the Carmine Sea

waiting at the gates of the palace was a petite Tzaltec woman, her hair styled extravagantly in a headdress of golden webbing. Though the Teotlkan was approaching ninety, she could not have been more than thirty-five; the benefits of living godhood. Seeing the arrival of Atheldynn and his uncle, she bowed low in a shimmering golden gown, and spoke in the tongue of Jarrland.

"Welcome, lords Atheldynn and Grant. It is my honor to welcome you to Tzalteclan in friendship. My lord the Teotlkan regrets that he cannot greet you personally, but he is attending to the final preparations for the coming ceremony. He looks forward to formally welcoming you at tonight's banquet. Now please, you must be exhausted."

She bowed again, and turned to lead the Carmine delegation deeper into the palace of the Teotlkan. Even as she did, the palanquins disappeared through some hidden gate, replaced by a veritable army of tattooed porters. Entering the palace proper, slaves and priests scurried to clear hallways fifteen feet wide and just as tall, pierced by archways that revealed secluded pleasure gardens, libraries, sitting rooms, an on one occasion what looked like a polished stone arena. They climbed higher, ascending more than a dozen flights of stone stairs before coming to a door that was draped in Carmine colors. Reaching into a long sleeve, the concubine pulled forth a golden key and undid the lock before presenting it to Atheldynn.

"Should you require anything, good lord, you have but to sound the gong in the courtyard. My Teotlkan has taken the liberty of arranging for some modest refreshment for you and your entourage, and you will find the hot spring ready and waiting for you. And any company you might feel the need to request."

She gave Atheldynn a knowing wink, and he was reminded that monogamy was a foreign concept to Tzaltec royalty. Then she was gone, and for the first time the Jarrow lord heard the tinkling of the small bells that adorned the hem of her gown.

Beyond the door, Atheldynn discovered that his "guest chambers" could more accurately have been called a small palace, dozens of rooms constructed around an open air courtyard complete with flowering fruit trees and an ornate bronze gong. The central pyramid of the palace loomed above them, and Atheldynn realized that somewhere in the web of corridors they had been led to a smaller pyramid, likely one of several, clustered around it. Still, that was not the strangest revelation - no, that waited beyond the courtyard, on the side of the pyramid that did not face the city, but the jungle beyond. His uncle was the first to explore and find the balcony, the first to see the massive oval arena that had been cut from the living jungle in the shape of an eye. Whatever the Tzaltec had planned to commemorate the festival, it seemed to require special preparation. Still, there was time enough to ponder that later, as other members of his entourage found a veritable feast awaiting them in their private dining hall, platter after platter of dishes both Jarrow and Tzaltec accompanied by enough wine to knock a Menhirin unconscious. It seemed the Teotlkan took his celebrations seriously.

Reggiejam

2014-10-09, 12:29 PM

It had only been through great pains that Kyria had convinced her mother of the necessity to attend the Tzaltec event. Valineth was highly against association with the East in large part due to Father's misgivings over their goals. She had the support of Wenyavuk and to some extent Galie-Noiret but the Heartwaste and Sanctuary Aristocracy had backed Kyria's resolve to attend the Eastern event and the Queen had been forced to acquiesce to her daughter. It seemed to be a continuing struggle between mother and daughter, sometimes daughters, in regards to the future of Faedas. Valineth had bound herself to peace and union with the Heartwaste and Sanctuary's old foe Hurosha but just because the Queen had changed her heart had not changed the opinions of the vassals of the Heartwaste or the Aristocracy of Sanctuary and Faedas found itself in a constant struggle between the two forces. Were it not for the threat of retribution Kyria had no doubt the nobles would have acted against the Queen before Kyria and Loris' own rise to prominence but now the nobles had found flag bearers for their cause who were also anointed with Varinel blood.

Despite the close working relationship between the Heartwaste Twins and the nobility there was still however a sense of conflict concurrent with their arrangement and it was for that reason that Lady Alakan of the Heartwaste and Prince Katsu, the heir to Prince Daiki of Yorukuni now accompanied her. The Heartwaste nobles still feared the awakened vampyre blood of the Heartwaste Twins and Kyria especially for the tales that circled her regarding the disappearance of fae servant boys around the Ice Castle and at Aes Shinchuu when she visited the administrative capital. Fortunately for Kyria and unfortunately for the nobles no direct links were ever drawn and thus the rumors remained just that. Most of the nobles had come to recognize that their positions granted them some level of immunity to disposal and thus moved on but there was no denying a certain amount of unease rippled through the court when one of the Twins entered the room.

Her twin. Regrettably Loris was unable to join Kyria on this trip, devoting herself to Kina as she was, but a representative of her sister and the faith did accompany the party. The most recently chosen Eldest Child. He was a bristly Quill who seemed quite agitated to be so far from the Nighthawk Grove but Kyria found him amusing. Loris respected the man as was her due him being the head of the Faith, but Kyria was not so deferential as her sister towards spiritual matters, more inclined towards the secular. Still, that did not mean she did not see the benefit in maintaining good relations with the Faithful.

Still, it had been the nobles and the Aristocracy who had supported Kyria's claimancy to the title of High Prince and her sister's claim as Elder of Tekorva thus allowing, when Valineth passed on her titles, for Kyria to rule as both High Prince of Sanctuary and Queen of the Heartwaste which would go a long way in uniting a somewhat divided political landscape.

"We're arriving my Ladies, my Lord," the voice of the ship's captain, a Guilderene merchant she had hired as a ferryman interrupted her thoughts.

"Very good, thank you captain," she said, her voice stern but cordial, "Take us to the nearest available dock and have your crew remain on board. I do not wish to be inconvenienced by your needing to round up your crew when I am ready to leave."

As she spoke she withdrew a small ruby and laid it in the captain's hand. It was a small payment, and certainly not enough to be worth it for the entire crew but more than enough for one man and she only needed the captain's loyalty at present. He was Guilderene, he would not ask for fair payment to his crew and risk his own substantial payday.

The ship docked somewhat slowly, careful to avoid the traps that had snared previous ships seeking the coast and the Faedas delegation made their way inland, Kyria admiring the imposing structures and the massive military fortifications. If only the Heartwaste could be devoted to constructing such wonders, its borders might never be breached again. At least, not by any who would last. Her companions displayed more reserved reactions, calculating and assessing the city carefully as if expecting some kind of net to fall about them. Such was their way in any circumstances that were not under their direct control. Insects fleeing the light for the shadows.

Kyria wondered quietly if she would be meeting the Teotlkan at this celebration. She had heard he was a fierce man and she had been intrigued by the tales told by Huroshan travelers, no doubt intended to frighten but instead having served to inspire. Time would certainly tell, but for now it was time to simply settle in and wait for the celebrations to come.

BladeofObliviom

2014-10-09, 02:47 PM

Against the imposing burgundies and ochres of the Tzaltec Empire, the various cyans and purples and grays of Glazfell almost appeared appeared drab and unthreatening. Still, whatever effect that had was dwarfed by its form of entry: The Royal Dirigible of the King of Glazfell, a semi-rigid airship with a cavorite-pocketed hull and a coal-fired hot air injector. Flying low, only ten or so meters above the dangerous rocks of the canyon approach, it passed through the outstretched arms of the Gate into the Bay of Stars.

After landing (and after the occupants were ushered out for safety reasons), the balloon section was quickly deflated until further notice. There is no need, after all, to repeat the debacle from the Tellurian Games.

King Ghalle of Glazfell was herself present along with her younger sister, though she was far more busy speaking to a certain foreigner than watching Faewen's business. She was gray-faced and bore ever-so-slightly pointed ears, likely an artifact of her half-Jarr heritage and the potency of her own Fae blood. Her eyes yellow and her nose flat, she watched the various Tzaltec and slaves scurrying about with a degree of amusement. She had considered coming with one of her own ceremonial gowns and ordering her servants to hold it out of the dirt, but had instead opted for rather more modest travel attire, leaving only her crown and jewelry to identify her by. Still, with the heat of Tzalteclan and the scant clothing of the natives she was somewhat relieved that she had not chosen to overdress.

Relaxing, Ghalle opened her parasol facing the sun to keep the heat off and to take advantage of the teardrop inside. Finally, letting her guest catch a break from the diplomatic niceties for a moment, she approached the Teotlkan himself to bring greetings.

"A fine day, Teotlkan! It is good to finally meet you in the flesh."

King Ghalle of Glazfell
Princess Faewen of Glazfell
A bunch of servants

A guest who can introduce themselves.

Morph Bark

2014-10-09, 05:20 PM

Aedilred

2014-10-11, 06:52 PM

Atheldynn made a point of thanking the young concubine for her assistance, and smiled inwardly at her suggestive parting remark. He wondered how many guests would take advantage of that particular facility during their stay: he remembered the borderline scandals of his previous visits to Raaneka and the Jewelled Cities. His family were curious in that respect, since they appeared largely to have inherited the libidousness for which his mother's people were infamous, yet it seemed largely to be channelled in a monogamous direction. Ruinously so, in some cases, as with his son: while he was glad the boy was happy with his wife, that had become little short of an embarrassment. His uncle was another matter, of course. He wondered if Jonas was not perhaps the most unusual islander who ever lived.

He took a couple of plums from one of the fruit bowls and moved to join Jonas on the balcony. "They've clearly spared no expense."

Jonas ignored him for a moment, looking out over the jungle. "Fear."

"What?"

"Fear. The city smells of fear. Fear and opulence. It is not a pleasant cocktail."

"You prefer Miji Mkuu?"

"I prefer Pearl." He turned to look at his nephew, unsmiling, though Atheldynn suspected he was joking. Jonas could scarcely be more different from his sister in that regard, rarely giving any outward display of emotion at all. Even Mere had admitted he found Jonas nearly impossible to read. Not for the first time, Atheldynn found his suspicions growing of Jonas's true purpose here.

"Well, regardless of how the city smells, we'll be freeing no slaves today," he said, "and you'll do them no good by starving yourself. Have some fruit." He passed him one of the plums. Jonas looked at it for a minute as if it might be poisoned, then took a bite regardless.

TheDarkDM

2014-10-12, 01:21 AM

Faedas
Despite the misgivings of the delegation from the Heartwaste, no ambush awaited them at the palace of the Teotlkan. Indeed, the woman who stood at the golden gates of the vast ziggurat seemed almost motherly in defiance of her imperious dress. She was dressed more conservatively than the other women that Kyria had seen, and was clearly well into her forties. Still, a life of ease in Tzalteclan was a miraculous balm against the ravages of age, and she remained beautiful. She bowed at the delegation's approach, and began to speak even as she led them through the maze of passages that led to their own palatial chambers.

"It is my honor to welcome you, Princess Kyria. I hope your journey was comfortable? We have prepared accommodation fitting of your storied bloodline - however, should you require anything...special, do not hesitate to ask."

The consort gave a smile that suggested Tzalteclan was kept informed of the rumors in the Heartwaste, though it lacked the fear with which others faced Kyria's nature. For life was cheap in Tzalteclan, if one knew where to look.

Glazfell and the Saltierri
Rather than a single member of Nezetkhamun's harem, the Glazfelli delegation was met by a group of Tzalteca, clearly chosen well ahead of their arrival. To one side stood a woman of imperious air in an elaborate crimson gown, her sculpted facial features quite similar to the fool Tzaltec prince that had challenged Griend at the last Telluris Games. She smile with as much warmth as her face could muster and bowed with a precision that suggested military training. Alongside her stood a perfect line of four Unmarked, their faces unmasked but otherwise distinctive in their blood-red and black armor. They did not bow, instead staring intently at King Ghalle as they waited for the pleasantries to conclude. Finally, and most strikingly, there stood a girl. Such a girl as to appear maybe once in a century. Unbeknownst to the foreign visitors she was the last child of Nezetkhamun, scarcely eighteen, and it appeared that his practice had produced a final, crowning masterpiece. She bowed demurely towards the Saltierri prince as he approached, her heart shaped face catching just enough shadow to throw dusky threads over her flawless skin. Her lips were painted crimson, while her eyes were lined with kohl, though even the black liner could not match the silken midnight of her hair. Her gown was black fringed with gold, wrapped tightly and displaying her ample decolletage.

The stately courtesan was the first to speak as the Queen and the Saltierri heir disembarked from their palanquins.

"Welcome, dear friends from Glazfell and the Imperium. I speak with the voice of the Teotlkan when I say this celebration is made all the more radiant by your presence. I will lead you to your quarters - however, good Queen, the Teotlkan wishes to speak with you in private. He begs forgiveness for not giving you more time to rest, but there are matters of the Concordat to discuss."

She gestured towards the Unmarked.

"They have been sent to guide you to the Teotlkan's private garden. You are safe in their hands."

As King Ghalle joined the Unmarked on their long climb up the central pyramid, the Tzaltec princess fell in alongside Gun Huang. Her voice was light as she spoke the Saltierri tongue, passing her lips like a spring breeze.

"Welcome to Tzalteclan, good prince. My father has asked that I attend you personally. You may call me Eurydice."

King Ghalle
the Unmarked led the King of the Glazfell ever higher up the royal pyramid, past feast halls and fountains, parlors and galleries, until they reached the level but two stories from the palace summit. The exterior steppe there was dominated by a lush garden, the plants of Tzalteclan and exotic plants from distant lands mingling together in a riot of colors and perfumes. Sitting in the middle of it was Nezetkhamun, bereft of the intimidating finery that marked an official meeting, instead dressed in a simple (if fine) black robe and a golden diadem. He held a quill in one skeletal hand, scratching out the last of his edicts for the coming feast days, but when he saw King Ghalle his hand stopped and his face broke into a smile.

"Ghalle! It has been too long."

He stood on unsteady legs, and only then did Ghalle notice the slave attending him. It was a man in his mid twenties, leanly muscled and sparsely dressed. He had the walnut skin of one of Tzalteclan's subservient tribes, and would have passed without notice entirely if not for his eyes. For they were pure silver!

"I am sorry to ask you up here before you've had a chance to recuperate, but there are things we must discuss before the celebration truly begins."

Nezetkhamun motioned towards a stone bench beneath a tree of cherry blossoms, and took a seat.

DoomHat

2014-10-12, 02:42 AM

Chineeleg of the Most Righteous Teneg Lineage carried himself with the anxious pride of a sheltered youth desperate to be taken seriously as an adult of consequence. He was of Cree blood, but the cut of his somewhat lived in looking finery was in a defunct Bordeux fashion, dyed in the colors of the Kaliphate of Crima.

Around him stood a handful of armed attendants in similar slightly eroded finery. Most were clearly well into or beyond middle age or distressingly young. They carried with them on poles (that may have once been gilded) the little seen standard of Old Crima. They all seemed incredibly uncomfortable and disconnected with their environment.

They'd had to charter passage effectively as merchant cargo most of the way here. They'd bounced between sleeping in barns and being hosted by various aristocrats sympathetic to their plight. Now here in Tzalteclan they found themselves more then ever torn between the disparate need to make a good impression and disgust with the foreignness and “barbarity” of their surroundings.

Once fully disembarked from one last spice frigate, with all baggage accounted for, they approached one of the figures at port in red. Noting his marshal barring and hoping that meant he amounted to someone with some kind of official standing. One of Chineeleg's honor guard, a graying round faced man who might have once been intimidating, stepped forward and announced with a well practiced thunder,

“Chineeleg of Teneg, last shining hope to the most humble Kaliphate of Crima is here among you to receive audience with Teotlkan Nezetkhamun the First, as mutual enemies of the Usurper Witch and her Criminal Hoard!”

Reggiejam

2014-10-12, 10:56 AM

BladeofObliviom

2014-10-12, 08:03 PM

"...and that's why I'm rather proud to be flying the huma, though for crossing oceans those large birds aren't feasible transportation." Gun Huang finished explaining his adoration of flight. He hadn't been on any airships of the Royal Dirigible's size before, or much of any airship really, since the few countries that had them had relatively few, mostly of small size, and many guarded jealously from foreigners.

He was unapologetically enthousiastic about being on the large airship, contrasting his earlier serious and downcast demeanor when the memory of the funeral of General Caris--a woman he shared the title of Twin Champions of the Second Tellurian Games with--was still fresh in his mind. The destination was just as exotic as the location of their departure from the point of view of the Salterri prince: Tzalteclan! While the ethics of the people might be questioned by one, one certainly wouldn't likewise question the fact that the country itself offered amazing sights, especially when viewed from a mile high.

When they landed and got off, the Imperial prince rolled his arms around before stepping into the sun and taking in the warmth of the rays. He'd opted for an attire similar to his Games outfit, but slightly more formalized and with embroidery of the family's silver dragon dancing across the rims of his purple shirt. He found himself to be quite happy to be wearing sandals in this climate. Seeing as the Queen makes her way ahead of them, he reminds himself of manners and offers his arm to princess Faewen to walk with her after her elder sister.

I'd first thought Blade had meant for Faewen to be talking with Gun Huang, and realized otherwise when reading his post again after being halfway through with mine. I finished mine the same way regardless, since it could be read either way regardless of whom Gun Huang is speaking with. :smalltongue:
Glazfell and the Saltierri
Rather than a single member of Nezetkhamun's harem, the Glazfelli delegation was met by a group of Tzalteca, clearly chosen well ahead of their arrival. To one side stood a woman of imperious air in an elaborate crimson gown, her sculpted facial features quite similar to the fool Tzaltec prince that had challenged Griend at the last Telluris Games. She smile with as much warmth as her face could muster and bowed with a precision that suggested military training. Alongside her stood a perfect line of four Unmarked, their faces unmasked but otherwise distinctive in their blood-red and black armor. They did not bow, instead staring intently at King Ghalle as they waited for the pleasantries to conclude. Finally, and most strikingly, there stood a girl. Such a girl as to appear maybe once in a century. Unbeknownst to the foreign visitors she was the last child of Nezetkhamun, scarcely eighteen, and it appeared that his practice had produced a final, crowning masterpiece. She bowed demurely towards the Saltierri prince as he approached, her heart shaped face catching just enough shadow to throw dusky threads over her flawless skin. Her lips were painted crimson, while her eyes were lined with kohl, though even the black liner could not match the silken midnight of her hair. Her gown was black fringed with gold, wrapped tightly and displaying her ample decolletage.

The stately courtesan was the first to speak as the Queen and the Saltierri heir disembarked from their palanquins.

"Welcome, dear friends from Glazfell and the Imperium. I speak with the voice of the Teotlkan when I say this celebration is made all the more radiant by your presence. I will lead you to your quarters - however, good Queen, the Teotlkan wishes to speak with you in private. He begs forgiveness for not giving you more time to rest, but there are matters of the Concordat to discuss."

She gestured towards the Unmarked.

"They have been sent to guide you to the Teotlkan's private garden. You are safe in their hands."

As King Ghalle joined the Unmarked on their long climb up the central pyramid, the Tzaltec princess fell in alongside Gun Huang. Her voice was light as she spoke the Saltierri tongue, passing her lips like a spring breeze.

"Welcome to Tzalteclan, good prince. My father has asked that I attend you personally. You may call me Eurydice."

Faewen and Company

Smiling faintly at Gun Huang's excitement, Faewen listened intently, only barely managing to mask her discomfort at the unfamiliarity of her new surroundings. The Royal Dirigible was fine enough, as she'd traveled as far as Sah'raa once to get a look at the treasure that Doge Buttercup had obtained from Grand Prince Gebui, but Tzalteclan was a faraway locale with strange practices! At least she could understand the Guilderenes' love of money, but the religion and culture of the Tzaltec seemed to confuse her at every turn. She knew better than to feel true fear in this place, as the Tzaltec were political allies and even if they were not, harming her would surely bring Glazfell's wrath. Still, Faewen could not quite throw off the sense of unease, instead opting to hide it under the Salterri Prince's contagious enthusiasm.

"Ah, how majestic you make the Huma sound! The only great birds I've seen in my time are the Wild Skarnakan that roam Sympolemou, and they can barely fly at all! Though I do suppose that some of those Maian 'dinosaur' creatures do rather resemble birds..."

Princess Faewen was rather heavier of build than her sister, and her steel blue skin tone more closely resembled that of her father than the King's did. Her hair was a silky white just like Khyne's, though she let hers grow out to her shoulders in a braid. Her eyes appeared rather sunken and just a bit too small for her face, but this was more an illusion formed by her spectacles than reality: She had grown up nearly blind, but one annoyed Sympol doctor was convinced to craft her a pair of corrective lenses to fix the problem. She wore no crown or jewelry, but a mere set of fine travel clothes and the customary teardrop-parasol often held by the Frosten Nobility.

She listened past the Salterri Princess, eager to find her way to somewhere quiet and private where she could have a moment to think and take this place in at her own pace.

Eh, it works that way too. Especially since Ghalle is leaving for now and Faewen's actually still around to continue whatever fascinating ambiguous conversation that they were having beforehand. :smalltongue:

King Ghalle
the Unmarked led the King of the Glazfell ever higher up the royal pyramid, past feast halls and fountains, parlors and galleries, until they reached the level but two stories from the palace summit. The exterior steppe there was dominated by a lush garden, the plants of Tzalteclan and exotic plants from distant lands mingling together in a riot of colors and perfumes. Sitting in the middle of it was Nezetkhamun, bereft of the intimidating finery that marked an official meeting, instead dressed in a simple (if fine) black robe and a golden diadem. He held a quill in one skeletal hand, scratching out the last of his edicts for the coming feast days, but when he saw King Ghalle his hand stopped and his face broke into a smile.

"Ghalle! It has been too long."

He stood on unsteady legs, and only then did Ghalle notice the slave attending him. It was a man in his mid twenties, leanly muscled and sparsely dressed. He had the walnut skin of one of Tzalteclan's subservient tribes, and would have passed without notice entirely if not for his eyes. For they were pure silver!

"I am sorry to ask you up here before you've had a chance to recuperate, but there are things we must discuss before the celebration truly begins."

Nezetkhamun motioned towards a stone bench beneath a tree of cherry blossoms, and took a seat.

The Private Garden

Silver eyes. Where had she heard that before? The thought wormed through the back of her skull, but no full recollection came. Something of import, she was sure, but not something well-known enough to her that she could quite seem to remember. Still, her queenly composure did not falter as her eyes passed over the slave and onto her host proper.

"Indeed it has, but I have had a mercifully easy time traveling by zeppelin. The Iztli of the Kingdom of the Burning Mountains were fine engineers during their time, even if they now lie under Hurosha's swollen thumb."

Smiling thinly, Ghalle sat upon the bench, keeping her eyes on Nezetkhamun all the while.

"Now that we have been well-separated from the prying eyes and ears of the public, what things do you speak of?"

lt_murgen

2014-10-13, 08:03 PM

"When are the festivities proper set to begin?" she asked as her three companions moved into the palatial apartment and looked about appraisingly.

One of the men turned from looking at the surroundings. He was not impressed. He gave the woman a slow calculating glance, as if memorizing every feature and flaw. His one good eye met hers. For her, it was like staring into the starless sky, jet black and wide. Something about him was chiling, and there was a slight... smell that passed as quickly as the eye contact broke.

"Yes, yes, she eats people. Get over it." He told the woman. "Better yet, get out before you start to look like a plate of afternoon teacakes."

http://images.wikia.com/forgottenrealms/images/archive/c/ca/20080508093435!Jarlaxle.jpg
Description: tall and lean with dark purplish skin bordering on black, dotted with small tattoos reminiscent of the night sky. His eyepatch is reportedly from a poison drank during his selection ritual causing permanent blindness in it. Vest and short pants, tall boots. Wide brimmed hats popular in islands. Earrings and other piercings. His eyes were a jet black, so dark the pupils could not be seen.

TheDarkDM

2014-10-14, 05:49 AM

Chineeling

To say the Tzaltec port official would have been surprised to see a royal delegation emerge from a spice galley would be an understatement. Combined with their threadbare mummers' gear, his surprise verged on outright shock. Light green eyes bulged slightly at the announcement from the comically assured honor guard, and the well-built man clearly struggled to contain a peal of unbidden laughter. Rather than respond, he turned to survey the entirety of the docks, seemingly searching for some explanation to his situation, until his eyes lighted on the far-away Royal Dirigible of the Glazfell. Breathing a sigh of relief, he uttered a stream of the Tzaltec tongue to a nearby subordinate, sending the younger man racing to find the seneschal that was responsible for the airship's safety. He then turned back to the royal procession and spoke in the slave tongue, the common tongue.

"Please wait here. I have sent for a servant of the Teotlkan."

He bowed and hustled away, clearly anxious to be anywhere else, leaving the travelers standing alone on the bustling dock. They drew more than a few curious glances from the Tzaltec stevedores and their draft teams of heavily tattooed slaves, but no one else spoke to them until a portly man in a voluminous red robe appeared trotting from the docked airship. His tall deshret bouncing with every step. He stopped abruptly at the sight of the Criman banner, smoothing his ruffled robes before he bowed.

"Greetings to holy Tzalteclan, travelers from the West. It shames me to say we had not expected the arrival of your fine company, and the Teotlkan is currently occupied with matters of state. However, should you care to attend tonight's banquet, I am sure his blessed highness would grant you a private audience."

King Ghalle

Nezetkhamun laughed softly at Ghalle's mention of Hurosha, leaning against the trunk of the cherry tree as he did so. It was the rare individual to see the Teotlkan like this, at ease, divested of the frightful ceremony he so often employed. Ghalle was one of only a handful of people outside his family to ever see him thus.

"Indeed, and their craft is now crushed underneath that selfsame thumb. Those Huroshan brutes have no appreciation for true artifice beyond their masturbatory monuments to "Prowess"."

He smiled slyly.

"One wonders what they are compensating for."

He stretched and sat straight, assuming some of his natural poise.

"I had hoped to speak to you as well as Inigo, but it seems our Guilderene friends are fashionably late as usual. This festival has long been the apex of my peoples' spiritual life, and there are a great many traditions that accompany it. But a century and a half can be an eternity, and some of our oldest traditions have been lost. Until recently."

He leaned closer to Ghalle, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

"In our darkest vaults, I discovered a ritual that has not been performed since the dawn of the Empire. A rite of such terrible power as to call the might of our progenitor Tzetultep back to Telluris. It requires a sacrifice of unique potency, and I thought it useless until fate bestowed a kindness on me."

He turned to the silver eyed slave.

"Tell her, boy. Tell her who you once were."

Kyria and Entourage

The concubine seemed to take no notice of Elemi Scoria's interruption as she smiled at Kyria.

"The festival proper begins tonight with a grand banquet, my lady. All Tzalteca will assemble and feast, and the feast of the Teotlkan will surely be the grandest. Then follow five days of merriment, all the more blessed by the marriage of Guilder's Doge in two days. Then, on the seventh day, we assemble to see the noon sun of the summer solstice eclipsed, and see the Eye of Tzetultep look down on us in judgement."

She turned leave, but paused at the door.

"Please ensure your companions exercise their manners at the banquet tonight, my lady. The nobility of Tzalteclan have assembled to observe our most holy of festivals, and I would not want the event marred by...misunderstanding."

Then she was gone, leaving Kyria and her surly attendants to their own devices.

zabbarot

2014-10-14, 10:43 AM

The Private Garden

"I was Shahidi Mkuu Shvedrishti of Raaneka, and King Mosi Nia-Rohana of Genivana before that. Now, as always, I am a servant. With my gift the Tzalteca shall meet their god."

It was difficult to tell where the slave was looking at any given moment. In truth he did not see in the usual sense anymore. He resided as he had for well over a century on the border of this world and the next. He saw Nezetkhamun as he was in his prime, lean and strong, but in Ghalle he saw something familiar. He bowed low scraping the ground.

"I am sorry for the actions of my son. I hope your family has forgiven him for the death of your great-uncle."

lt_murgen

2014-10-14, 11:20 AM

"Please ensure your companions exercise their manners at the banquet tonight, my lady. The nobility of Tzalteclan have assembled to observe our most holy of festivals, and I would not want the event marred by...misunderstanding."

Then she was gone, leaving Kyria and her surly attendants to their own devices.

Elemi smiled. "Interesting. A full week of indulgences, followed by a singular event. Typical arrogance derived from the "divine right" to rule. Repressed socio-economic system to enforce obedience. Minimizing the aggregate value of life to further exalt the few. Very interesting." He sat down and began writing in his journals. He had filled one book on his trip down here and was starting his second.

He glanced up after a moment, "Princess, if there is anything you need of me, you need only ask." He looked around, "or perhaps simply state your needs. The listeners in the walls will certainly accommodate you."

Reggiejam

2014-10-14, 12:17 PM

[
Kyria and Entourage

The concubine seemed to take no notice of Elemi Scoria's interruption as she smiled at Kyria.

"The festival proper begins tonight with a grand banquet, my lady. All Tzalteca will assemble and feast, and the feast of the Teotlkan will surely be the grandest. Then follow five days of merriment, all the more blessed by the marriage of Guilder's Doge in two days. Then, on the seventh day, we assemble to see the noon sun of the summer solstice eclipsed, and see the Eye of Tzetultep look down on us in judgement."

She turned leave, but paused at the door.

"Please ensure your companions exercise their manners at the banquet tonight, my lady. The nobility of Tzalteclan have assembled to observe our most holy of festivals, and I would not want the event marred by...misunderstanding."

Then she was gone, leaving Kyria and her surly attendants to their own devices.

OOC: Edited previous posts to include Elemi's presence.

Kyria had clenched her teeth at the Eldest Child's words to the attendant. While she had found his cantankerous nature somewhat amusing aboard the ship when it had been directed towards deriding the Guilderene crew here it struck her as having overstepped the man's bounds.

"I shall endeavor to do so," she responded to the Tzaltec woman.

Elemi smiled. "Interesting. A full week of indulgences, followed by a singular event. Typical arrogance derived from the "divine right" to rule. Repressed socio-economic system to enforce obedience. Minimizing the aggregate value of life to further exalt the few. Very interesting." He sat down and began writing in his journals. He had filled one book on his trip down here and was starting his second.

He glanced up after a moment, "Princess, if there is anything you need of me, you need only ask." He looked around, "or perhaps simply state your needs. The listeners in the walls will certainly accommodate you."

Kyria ignored the initial comments of the Eldest Child. Loris had spouted similar nonsense before, though she did not seem eager to relinquish her chance at the crown her sister was certainly more inclined to see the needs of the common people whereas Kyria saw the value in concentrating upon those with power rather than those without.

"I understand you do not wish to be here Eldest," Kyria said coldly, "But you accompany myself as a favor to my sister and as a component to my entourage. I would ask that you hold your tongue. If not for the sake of politeness than so the airy walls do not take your words to be enticement for rebellion. The 'few' of Tazlteclan have I believe proven their willingness to subject those it deems unworthy and I would rather not return to my sister and face the islands having lost the Eldest to his own fool words."

lt_murgen

2014-10-14, 01:01 PM

"I understand you do not wish to be here Eldest," Kyria said coldly, "But you accompany myself as a favor to my sister and as a component to my entourage. I would ask that you hold your tongue. If not for the sake of politeness than so the airy walls do not take your words to be enticement for rebellion. The 'few' of Tazlteclan have I believe proven their willingness to subject those it deems unworthy and I would rather not return to my sister and face the islands having lost the Eldest to his own fool words."

Elemi chuckled and raised both hands, "I swear by my Mother I will be on my best behavior. But poking the help can be instructive. Clearly, the woman was informed of your needs. I dropped it on her as shockingly as I could. She didn't even flinch. I suggested she might be dinner. Again, nothing. This tells me much about their value of life. Then there were her answers on the festival itself. The feast, held by her master, was most of her explanation. The actual religious event barely was mentioned. Where do her loyalties lie? That's clear."

He picked up his quill again, "This is why I pushed to come here. Faith can be a shallow pond or the abyssal oceans. It can flow from within, or be dictated from without. I seek to understand their faith, as I have so many others."

Morph Bark

2014-10-14, 05:05 PM

Glazfell and the Saltierri
Rather than a single member of Nezetkhamun's harem, the Glazfelli delegation was met by a group of Tzalteca, clearly chosen well ahead of their arrival. To one side stood a woman of imperious air in an elaborate crimson gown, her sculpted facial features quite similar to the fool Tzaltec prince that had challenged Griend at the last Telluris Games. She smile with as much warmth as her face could muster and bowed with a precision that suggested military training. Alongside her stood a perfect line of four Unmarked, their faces unmasked but otherwise distinctive in their blood-red and black armor. They did not bow, instead staring intently at King Ghalle as they waited for the pleasantries to conclude. Finally, and most strikingly, there stood a girl. Such a girl as to appear maybe once in a century. Unbeknownst to the foreign visitors she was the last child of Nezetkhamun, scarcely eighteen, and it appeared that his practice had produced a final, crowning masterpiece. She bowed demurely towards the Saltierri prince as he approached, her heart shaped face catching just enough shadow to throw dusky threads over her flawless skin. Her lips were painted crimson, while her eyes were lined with kohl, though even the black liner could not match the silken midnight of her hair. Her gown was black fringed with gold, wrapped tightly and displaying her ample decolletage.

The stately courtesan was the first to speak as the Queen and the Saltierri heir disembarked from their palanquins.

"Welcome, dear friends from Glazfell and the Imperium. I speak with the voice of the Teotlkan when I say this celebration is made all the more radiant by your presence. I will lead you to your quarters - however, good Queen, the Teotlkan wishes to speak with you in private. He begs forgiveness for not giving you more time to rest, but there are matters of the Concordat to discuss."

She gestured towards the Unmarked.

"They have been sent to guide you to the Teotlkan's private garden. You are safe in their hands."

As King Ghalle joined the Unmarked on their long climb up the central pyramid, the Tzaltec princess fell in alongside Gun Huang. Her voice was light as she spoke the Saltierri tongue, passing her lips like a spring breeze.

"Welcome to Tzalteclan, good prince. My father has asked that I attend you personally. You may call me Eurydice."

Faewen and Company

Smiling faintly at Gun Huang's excitement, Faewen listened intently, only barely managing to mask her discomfort at the unfamiliarity of her new surroundings. The Royal Dirigible was fine enough, as she'd traveled as far as Sah'raa once to get a look at the treasure that Doge Buttercup had obtained from Grand Prince Gebui, but Tzalteclan was a faraway locale with strange practices! At least she could understand the Guilderenes' love of money, but the religion and culture of the Tzaltec seemed to confuse her at every turn. She knew better than to feel true fear in this place, as the Tzaltec were political allies and even if they were not, harming her would surely bring Glazfell's wrath. Still, Faewen could not quite throw off the sense of unease, instead opting to hide it under the Salterri Prince's contagious enthusiasm.

"Ah, how majestic you make the Huma sound! The only great birds I've seen in my time are the Wild Skarnakan that roam Sympolemou, and they can barely fly at all! Though I do suppose that some of those Maian 'dinosaur' creatures do rather resemble birds..."

Princess Faewen was rather heavier of build than her sister, and her steel blue skin tone more closely resembled that of her father than the King's did. Her hair was a silky white just like Khyne's, though she let hers grow out to her shoulders in a braid. Her eyes appeared rather sunken and just a bit too small for her face, but this was more an illusion formed by her spectacles than reality: She had grown up nearly blind, but one annoyed Sympol doctor was convinced to craft her a pair of corrective lenses to fix the problem. She wore no crown or jewelry, but a mere set of fine travel clothes and the customary teardrop-parasol often held by the Frosten Nobility.

She listened past the Salterri Princess, eager to find her way to somewhere quiet and private where she could have a moment to think and take this place in at her own pace.

Eh, it works that way too. Especially since Ghalle is leaving for now and Faewen's actually still around to continue whatever fascinating ambiguous conversation that they were having beforehand. :smalltongue:

Gun Huang praised himself at such a welcome--which had all to do with Queen Ghalle and nothing with him, but nevertheless it made for a pleasant arrival. He let his eyes wander and ensured himself that the Teotlkan clearly was a man of good taste in women. Queen Ghalle was good-looking, but a bit rough around the edges, whereas Princess Faewen had more of a soft look to her and came across as badly disguised nervousness in attitude, a combination he could tolerate but was not fond of. His trip so far had almost convinced him that Caris of Psilberg had been the greatest female specimen in Glazfell--a shame that it had to be 'had been'.

Any sorrow felt over the loss of his fellow Twin Champion began to vanish here in Tzalteclan, and the hole that had been left by the crushing of his desire to beat Caris completely in the next Tellurian Games was starting to be filled by a new flame. He was only vaguely cognizant of the presence of Faewen and the others as the Tzaltec princess came up beside him. He raised a hand as if to touch her, but retracted his fingers before he did so, as if afraid this was an all too easily shattered mirage. Besides, as she stood amidst the Teotlkan's harem, there was little doubt in his mind she belonged to it, and while a forbidden fruit was all the more desirable, he wasn't about to provoke the wrath of the Teotlkan within his own palace. Such was neither wise nor becoming of an Imperial prince.

He shook his head when he believed he heard mention of the word 'father', and he frowned for a second trying to process the half-heard information, only to quickly replace it with an honest and broad smile. "Eurydice, that does not sound like a name that'd be common in Tzalteclan." He'd hazard the guess it might be Guilderene, but kept from saying it out loud--it might be taken as an insult. "What would attending a foreign princely guest all entail, if I dare ask?"

Acco Spoot

2014-10-14, 07:01 PM

The sea travel was not kind to the native mountain blood of the sortie, the intention had been to journey through the Koros Mountains, and indeed, two guides for such purpose had been provided by way of the courtier Krizhan, they were the two who had their necks craned out over the opposite edge of the ferry. Thank Planin for the two cases of highland wine we have, soon it'll be us testing foreign stomachs against our mettle! Dionytz muttered to Gretna between washing his face against the insufferable heat borne this far south.
Gretna kept silent, it had been many generations since the court of Hradiska had received even word of a foreign gathering, their presence now had been guaranteed by a new blossoming of the court, one the people had dubbed the Stolok court, named for the eastern king who intended to take the throne and expunge the curse slavered onto the region. It was difficult to keep her excitement hidden away, and so let the young standard bearer flow with his witty optimism, Oh god, is that it? Those colours, we're surely heading into the lands of ancient beasts! Somewhat, at the very least.
The colours matched a palate the Planin court typically reserved for the illustrating of great and ancient power, wicked and titanic immortals steeped in raw legend, that to be given respect. Gretna was impressed. The ship pulled into dock, the previous few minutes spent preparing the party, clearing off any stains and ensuring the formal wear of woolen robes, capes and sashes would not cause immediate discomfort, the sort that could give a bad impression to a new relation. With the party came the three fine tapestries gifted as a sign of Planin's craft, and two cases of the unique highland wine Dionytz insisted upon offering as a means of testing foreign fortitude.

Reggiejam

2014-10-14, 07:26 PM

Elemi chuckled and raised both hands, "I swear by my Mother I will be on my best behavior. But poking the help can be instructive. Clearly, the woman was informed of your needs. I dropped it on her as shockingly as I could. She didn't even flinch. I suggested she might be dinner. Again, nothing. This tells me much about their value of life. Then there were her answers on the festival itself. The feast, held by her master, was most of her explanation. The actual religious event barely was mentioned. Where do her loyalties lie? That's clear."

He picked up his quill again, "This is why I pushed to come here. Faith can be a shallow pond or the abyssal oceans. It can flow from within, or be dictated from without. I seek to understand their faith, as I have so many others."

Kyria's face remained displeased but she said no more. Loris would appreciate the man's wit and testing but Kyria found it highly irritating now that it had embarrassed her. In front of but the lowly help no doubt, but she had hoped to make a good impression with the Tzaltec. Nevertheless she didn't dwell on the matter and moved away from the Quill, over to unpack her traveling case seeing that the Lady Alakan and Prince Katsu had already done so with their own belongings.

As she moved that direction the Lady Alakan slipped away, going to join the Eldest.

"I'll admit I found your tactics quite informative, as well as amusing," the Heartwastian noble confided quietly, "The Faith of the Islands has pooled unevenly in the lands good Princess Loris has preached it to and it seems that it filled her so full it left her sister lacking much space at all to contemplate the spiritual realm."

TheDarkDM

2014-10-15, 05:06 AM

lt_murgen

2014-10-15, 06:41 AM

"The Faith of the Islands has pooled unevenly in the lands good Princess Loris has preached it to and it seems that it filled her so full it left her sister lacking much space at all to contemplate the spiritual realm."[/COLOR]

"Her loss. Politics and religion are enmeshed. Are we not at a religious," he snorted at the word, "festival? A religion to keep the Teotlkhan in power? Disdain for faith is no reason to discount its power." He realized he was, indeed, being more abrasive than normal. Perhaps it had something to do with being so far from his beloved Grove. This far away, his connection to Kina did seem lessened.

He spoke more apologetically, "I should be more aware of my own anxiety. Khaditna tempts in many guises. Please inform the princess that I shall remain here and not attend tonight's banquet. A clear punishment for my crass actions."

Acco Spoot

2014-10-15, 06:11 PM

Bless you, your grace, Gretna bows and smiles, a hand reflexively to her sash belt. Our journey has been exhausting upon our compliment, and I'm sure they would like to rest for a moment. She motioned to Dionytz and the guards. I however would like to join the banquet, I am excited to see what Tellestria holds, should the Imaltan not be too bothered. She admitted internally not knowing who an Imaltan was.
She leant in to Dionytz and spoke in a deep, sharp foreign tongue; <Take the Koros men with the native guide, watch over them and ensure they do not make fools of us all, I shall meet you later in the banquet hall, yes?> He nodded and repeated the orders to the wildmen with some firmness.
M'lady, may we also present the host with fine gifts of the Hradiska court, a collection of fine tapestries showcasing the finest of Planin skill... and a collection of our native wine also. She added with some disdain before joining with the escort, the nights breeze had refreshed her, it was not unlike the constant howling mountain winds of home, it had made the woolen formalwear slightly more of a comfort at least.

Aedilred

2014-10-15, 11:30 PM

Atheldynn had fifteen nieces and nephews, aside from his own two children and ten grandchildren, and to say nothing of the ten great-nieces and nephews of which he was aware, his adopted niece and three nephews, and their children. Keeping them all straight was something of a challenge, so it came as rather a relief at the banquet to spy relatives he could identify unambiguously. He made his way over to Gun Huang and the Glazfelli, offered a slight bow to the ladies and an avuncular nod to Gun Huang.

"My lady, lord prince*, what a pleasure to see you here. Allow me to introduce my uncle Jonas, son of Queen Amber - Gun Huang's uncle, too, of course. Uncle, my cousing Princess Faewen of the Glazfell, and of course Gun Huang you will know."

Jonas nodded politely and slightly stiffly, his white eyes betraying nothing.

"Is this your first time in Tzalteclan? How do you find it?"

(*If Ghalle has returned to them there he'll greet and introduce her too of course)

Reggiejam

2014-10-16, 12:02 PM

"Her loss. Politics and religion are enmeshed. Are we not at a religious," he snorted at the word, "festival? A religion to keep the Teotlkhan in power? Disdain for faith is no reason to discount its power." He realized he was, indeed, being more abrasive than normal. Perhaps it had something to do with being so far from his beloved Grove. This far away, his connection to Kina did seem lessened.

He spoke more apologetically, "I should be more aware of my own anxiety. Khaditna tempts in many guises. Please inform the princess that I shall remain here and not attend tonight's banquet. A clear punishment for my crass actions."

"As you say Eldest," Lady Alakan lightly grabbed her wrist, pulling back her sleeve slightly to show her own reumel before moving away to speak with the Princess.

At the Banquet

Princess Kyria moved to try and attain a seat near the Teotlkan but not so near as to preempt the seating of his allies from Guilder and the Glazfell, airing to sit next to the Glazfelli party down the way from the Tzalteclan sovereign. As she took her seat she smiled in what could only be called a style that was a facsimile of a friendly smile towards the Glazfelli sitting nearest her.

The King Ghalle was sitting closer to the Teotlkan and outside her range of address but beside her was a young man who looked unlikely to be Glazfelli, dark skinned and human and down form him a Glazfelli Princess if she had to wager.

"A beautiful evening the Teotlkan has presented us with isn't it?" The Heartwastian asked the young man and woman beside her.

BladeofObliviom

2014-10-16, 04:55 PM

King Ghalle

Nezetkhamun laughed softly at Ghalle's mention of Hurosha, leaning against the trunk of the cherry tree as he did so. It was the rare individual to see the Teotlkan like this, at ease, divested of the frightful ceremony he so often employed. Ghalle was one of only a handful of people outside his family to ever see him thus.

"Indeed, and their craft is now crushed underneath that selfsame thumb. Those Huroshan brutes have no appreciation for true artifice beyond their masturbatory monuments to "Prowess"."

He smiled slyly.

"One wonders what they are compensating for."

He stretched and sat straight, assuming some of his natural poise.

"I had hoped to speak to you as well as Inigo, but it seems our Guilderene friends are fashionably late as usual. This festival has long been the apex of my peoples' spiritual life, and there are a great many traditions that accompany it. But a century and a half can be an eternity, and some of our oldest traditions have been lost. Until recently."

He leaned closer to Ghalle, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

"In our darkest vaults, I discovered a ritual that has not been performed since the dawn of the Empire. A rite of such terrible power as to call the might of our progenitor Tzetultep back to Telluris. It requires a sacrifice of unique potency, and I thought it useless until fate bestowed a kindness on me."

He turned to the silver eyed slave.

"Tell her, boy. Tell her who you once were."

The Private Garden

"I was Shahidi Mkuu Shvedrishti of Raaneka, and King Mosi Nia-Rohana of Genivana before that. Now, as always, I am a servant. With my gift the Tzalteca shall meet their god."

It was difficult to tell where the slave was looking at any given moment. In truth he did not see in the usual sense anymore. He resided as he had for well over a century on the border of this world and the next. He saw Nezetkhamun as he was in his prime, lean and strong, but in Ghalle he saw something familiar. He bowed low scraping the ground.

"I am sorry for the actions of my son. I hope your family has forgiven him for the death of your great-uncle."

The Private Garden

The Glazfelli King's eyes widened as Nezetkhamun laid forth his implications, and she stiffened as the reincarnated Shahidi spoke. Eyes darting both ways, Ghalle's jaw went fully slack as the eternal spirit apologized. Apologized for something that it had only witnessed as a child in a past life and for the actions of a son from the life before that, with no power to change. She held no love for the Radurjic Faith, but this...

...She couldn't help but imagine the High Priestess Ymina in Xochiconetl's place. Just for an instant. Shaking her head, Ghalle tore her gaze away from the slave and met the Teotlkan's instead.

"I...by Yphine, you're serious. All this time, the Triumvirate's been searching for...and he's been here all along."

As the shock waned from her voice, it steadily took on a less friendly tone. She did not, would not shout at an ally who had done nothing but follow his faith, but she was quite sure by now that this could not end well.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Teotlkan. My great-grandfather lost half of his face and his firstborn the last time someone dared to call upon even a fragment of a God, and he was a mere spectator. And what of the Triumvirate? If they learn of this, they will call for a Crusade. Guilder will be trapped in a civil war with outraged Radurjic citizenry even if they do not outright turn against you. I despise the Triumvirate even more than I do the Huroshans, but I do not think this will end without bloodshed spread across Telluris."

(*If Ghalle has returned to them there he'll greet and introduce her too of course)

(Ghalle may or may not be present depending on how this scene goes. Pretend that she's already having a miscellaneous conversation with someone and it'd be rude to interrupt her until this is resolved, I guess.)

zabbarot

2014-10-16, 07:24 PM

The Private Garden

The Glazfelli King's eyes widened as Nezetkhamun laid forth his implications, and she stiffened as the reincarnated Shahidi spoke. Eyes darting both ways, Ghalle's jaw went fully slack as the eternal spirit apologized. Apologized for something that it had only witnessed as a child in a past life and for the actions of a son from the life before that, with no power to change. She held no love for the Radurjic Faith, but this...

...She couldn't help but imagine the High Priestess Ymina in Xochiconetl's place. Just for an instant. Shaking her head, Ghalle tore her gaze away from the slave and met the Teotlkan's instead.

"I...by Yphine, you're serious. All this time, the Triumvirate's been searching for...and he's been here all along."

As the shock waned from her voice, it steadily took on a less friendly tone. She did not, would not shout at an ally who had done nothing but follow his faith, but she was quite sure by now that this could not end well.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Teotlkan. My great-grandfather lost half of his face and his firstborn the last time someone dared to call upon even a fragment of a God, and he was a mere spectator. And what of the Triumvirate? If they learn of this, they will call for a Crusade. Guilder will be trapped in a civil war with outraged Radurjic citizenry even if they do not outright turn against you. I despise the Triumvirate even more than I do the Huroshans, but I do not think this will end without bloodshed spread across Telluris."

The Private Garden

"I will do what I can to dissuade the Triumvirate, or, at the least, the faithful of my church. I am here by choice after all."

Xochiconetl disappeared in a wisp of smokey light and reappeared immediately next to Ghalle.

"There are no chains here stronger than my own curiosity. Besides the Teotlkan has been nothing but kind to me."

He took a step back. It was a bit of a dangerous game being this bold. There were significant social boundaries he risked crossing. It would be better now to stay quiet unless spoken to directly again.

lt_murgen

2014-10-17, 08:20 PM

”May I join you, Shahidi Grant”

Jonas looked up. The Quill standing before him seemed unremarkable, except for the eyepatch. Still, he knew the Eldest Child of Kina by description. His reply was a grudging, “Go ahead.”

”Thank you. This is an unexpected opportunity.”

To do what? I’m old, boy, and my patience passed on years ago.”

Elemi got to the point, ”I want to discuss reincarnation.”

“I’m not dead yet.” Jonas replied wryly.

”I meant theologically. Both Radjura and the Children believe in it, but our views are different.”

Jonas paused. This was not expected. His personal distaste for the Children of Kina went back to the founder of their religion. The man who killed his parents. He stared at the man for a moment. He was too young, probably born decades after the events he could recall as easily as what he had for breakfast. Shvedrishti cautioned him against the passions that ran in the Grant family blood. She was ever in his thoughts, a quiet voice of council. He chose to speak neutrally, ”Your point?”

Elemi took this as an invitation and sat. ”We believe that all souls come from Kina, and go back to her. I understand that Radurja believe something similar, in the Great Ancestor.”

“Similar, but not the same. The great ancestor is the source of all. Your Khaditna is merely a conduit for his will.”

Elemi ignored the subtle barb of using the Great Deceiver’s name. ”Kina contains a small portion of each god. It was their gift that allowed her consume the demons. In her is contained all of them.”

”Yet the great ancestor precedes all gods and demons. He is the source.”

”But do you not also believe that all gods and demons destroyed each other? The Revelation of Mosi states, ’ The infinite body of the Great Ancestor coalesced into stars, Then planets, and beings. The strongest of these beings were as gods. They fought and destroyed each other. From their shattered bodies came life.'”

“Impressive, boy, you have studied.”

”Truth can be found in many places.”

”So Radurja is the truth, then?” Jonas said with a grin.

”Hardly. You say the gods killed each other. Yet Kina lives. The Lord of Fire lives. You are wrong. But truth comes out of mistakes as well as triumph.” Elemi answered back. But cosmology is not my interest.”

”Then what does grasp your mind today?” Jonas was starting to like the forthright man, despite his cult’s past.

”Why.”

”Why?”

”Why. What is the purpose of the endless cycle of death and birth? Amusement for the old man?”
This time Jonas ignored the barb ”It is to gain knowledge and to do good works. Sureley you know the quote from the book of Mosi ’ The cycle must continue, but you must not forget. From each life, experience is gained. From each life, lessons are learned. With each life, good is done. These things must be remembered.’

”Yet most are born and have no memory. Your god has failed.”

”But those that have succeeded are great leaders.” Jonas seemed wistful. “The fault lies with mortals, not the Great Ancestor. Kina preaches introspection and review of action, is it not the same calling?”

Now Elemi smiled ”Kina demands you understand why you are doing things. Are you being motivated by the gods or the demons of your character. The Great Ancestor merely desires good works, even if the reasons for them are tainted. We are nothing but grain spinning in his grist mill. To what end? To what end is the endless cycle?”

”Let me counter that with this question to you. We live only a short time, why the obsession with eternity?”

Elemi paused.

Jonas smirked. ”The Year of the Skulls?” Elemi was startled. The cult of the Deceivers who believed that particular prophecy had been hounded to extinction. ”Little of your religion is unknown to me. The death of my parents at the hands of your founder” he choked down more anger than he expected. “focused my attention.”

”Yes. The Year of the Skulls. The prophecy that Kina will awaken and destroy Telluris, rebuilding it to remove the taint of evil from the demonic impulses.”

”A small squall on the vast ocean that is the Great Ancestor.”

”So you don’t deny that possibility?”

”Radjura does not affirm nor deny the other gods. It is merely uninteresting.”

”Uninteresting?” This was unexpected.

”Look at our recorded history, child. Less than five hundred years. Do you truly believe that Kina is the first, or last, being calling itself a god to affect the world?

”We have no record of any others.” It sounded lame, even to Elemi.

”Yet here we are, about to witness a human sacrifice to appease the sun. How foolish. Limited beings facing the eternal abyss and grasping for straws. Your Kina is no better. Pretending your actions are somehow affecting the balance of the cosmos.” He snorted derisively.

”And the great ancestor shows only an endless struggle with no ending. It would seem being born forgetting would be a blessing. Remembering the endless past would wear you down irrecovably.”

Jonas sighed, and shrugged. ”Perhaps there is some truth in your words, boy. I am old, and there are regrets I long to leave behind.” He sounded tired.

”Regret comes from a lack of understanding and accepting why you act. It is a deception of Khaditna.”

”No, I understand perfectly well the choice I made, and why I made it.”

”Then set regret aside, Shahidi. Take comfort in doing right for the right reasons. If Kina is true, then you will find her embrace. If the great ancestor is true, than you have learned a lesson to carry into the next life. Either way, embrace it.”

Jonas smiled, a weak smile. ”Perhaps you are right, Eldest Child of Kina.” For the first time, he used the man’s proper title. ”But I am a tired old man, and have ruminated enough for one afternoon. I need to rest.”

Elemi stood, and bowed. Then he reached out and took the old man’s hand. ”Thank you, Shahidi Grant. It has been an honor talking to you.”

DoomHat

2014-10-18, 02:18 AM

The Port

"Greetings to holy Tzalteclan, travelers from the West. It shames me to say we had not expected the arrival of your fine company, and the Teotlkan is currently occupied with matters of state. However, should you care to attend tonight's banquet, I am sure his blessed highness would grant you a private audience."

The round faced man nodded with sage acceptance,
“And it pains us that we were unable to send forward notice! However when most noble Chineeling heard of your holy festival he saw fit that we should come and participate knowing that wise Teotlkan has not acknowledged the false rule of that Murderous Harlot who holds his nation hostage!

You honor us with this invitation. If I might humbly ask if you might have some trusted person see to noble Chineeling's effects while we avail ourselves of your generous hospitality?”

He gestured toward the substantial pile of baggage.

The Banquet

There is little to say of Chineeling and his pair of remaining tottering guards. Only that they seem more desperately uncomfortable then ever and eager to speak to anyone remotely “civilized” looking to take their minds off their surroundings.

TheDarkDM

2014-10-19, 10:37 AM

The Garden
Nezetkhamun smiled as Xochiconetl explained his position to King Ghalle. When the reincarnated slave was finished, he raised his hand.

"Well said, Xochiconetl. You see, Ghalle? We are vouchsafed from the wrath of Radurja by her own prophet. Regardless, it will be some years yet before they learn of this - Xochiconetl goes into meditative seclusion tonight with the other sacrifices, and none of our foreign guests will be seated close enough to recognize him on the blessed day."

His smile faded, and his tone grew somber.

"But you are not wrong about the risk. Though it horrifies me even to consider it, Tzetultep may see fit to deny me his blessing. Or perhaps my wizened body is too frail to contain the majesty I seek to seize from his outstretched hand. The ceremony may mark my last days on Telluris. But you should not fear for yourself. You will be situated far enough away to avoid any collateral damage. Besides, the casualties at that Grand Ball were the toll paid by an ignorant priesthood, unwilling to accept the cost of the power they courted. We Tzaltec are not so naive as to think the divine can be satisfied by aught but blood."

The Port
The official took a quick glance at the assembled bags before pulling a wooden tablet from his belt and scribbling on the sheaf of papyrus attached to it.

"They shall be dealt with swiftly. Now please, it should be only a moment before the palanquins arrive."

True to his word, a line of palanquins hefted by harried looking slaves appeared within the hour. They seemed more than capable to seeing to the group's baggage. Indeed, it would be the smallest such burden that had been transported to the palace that day. As such, there were more than enough palanquins remaining for a luxuriously spacious ride through the city and to the Teotlkan's palace, which held quarters unlike any the disenfranchised nobles had seen for some years.

After the Banquet
True to the word of the official at the docks, once the banquet had concluded a message was delivered to Chineeleg.

The Teotlkan awaits your presence in his private garden

Were the young prince to seek out the garden, he would be guided there by one of the omnipresent red-clad servants to find the Teotlkan awaiting him, alone.

Nezetkhamun seemed contemplative beneath a blanket of stars, his golden eyes reflecting the flickering bonfires that still burned in the city below. At the sound of Cheeling's approach he turned, and gestured to a nearby table. Sitting in one of the cushioned iron seats, he steepled his fingers.

"Welcome to Tzalteclan, Chineeleg of Teneg. What news from Crima?"

The Ceremony
Nearly a week passed after the night of the banquet, a week of constant revelry and rhythmic hymnals, of contests of strength by the faithful before the Teotlkan and his foreign guests, a week of fire within and without. And all through the week, a keen eye could see the framework of the arena beyond the city growing ever larger, as great beams were lashed together into a vast wall of bleachers, and towering jugs of Dragon's Blood were carted from the jungle. Still, in the dizzying wine soaked miasma of debauchery and zeal there was little time to dwell on the matter. Until the day finally arrived, and the city itself seemed transformed. While the guests had retired to their chambers the night before to the sounds of ongoing celebration, the sun rose with nary a sound. Indeed, from the palace of the Teotlkan the city seemed to have died in the night. But then a gong sounded from the palace's central pyramid, a tone of such rumbling strength that it carried to the docks and beyond. Once, twice, three times the sound thundered down from Nezetkhamun's mountaintop, and as the echo faded the streets began to fill.

During the celebrations, it had been impossible to escape the red and gold of Tzalteclan. The streets filled with red clothed Tzalteca and red tents until they seemed veins running with blood, and the palace itself was a testament to Tzalteclan's wealth. But on that morning, the streets seemed blotted out with darkness, as the Tzalteca gathered in black ceremonial garments of shocking modesty. Even the Teotlkan's striking harem had retired their jewels and patterned silks for simple black wraps, wide golden diadems the only sign of their status. The city's priestly seneschals seemed more like reapers in their midnight appointments, though the dour mood did little to dim their smiles as they lead their foreign charges beyond the city and to the ritual site itself.

It had been carved from the ground over a period of months, an oval pit that stretched more than a hundred feet at its widest point. From the center rose a plinth almost twenty feet in diameter on which rested a low altar, and rising from the edge in regular intervals were one hundred short, curved arches that terminated in the open air. The entire edifice had been constructed in black granite and onyx, and the bottom of the pit was clearly filled with an immense wealth of Dragon's Blood. The family of the Teotlkan and his guests were seated in a sturdy box nestled into the bleachers eighty feet from the edge of the pit, but to the mystery of all the Teotlkan himself was not present. Questions regarding his location were met with only knowing smiles and assurances that all would be made clear, and as the morning proceeded more and more Tzalteca streamed into the arena. Eventually, ten thousand black-clad Tzaltec native crowded the seats, and all eyes turned to the preparations on the field.

As the sun neared its zenith, row upon row of Tzaltec priests entered the arena, kneeling down to form a rectangle around the pit, they faced inwards, but when they let loose a sonorous verse in the Tzaltec language, their words reverberated through the crowd. They were answered with a similar phrase from ten thousand mouths, and followed with a different intonation. Ten phrases were traded between the priests and the crowd, the thunder of human voices seeming to shake the very ground, and when the last Tzaltec prayer faded there was further movement at the gates into the arena ground. Carrying lit torches in each hand, one hundred women in revealing red robes drifted into the arena, passing through the gaps at the corners of the priests' rectangle and taking their positions at the base of the curving arches. They knelt down, raising their torches to their sides, and sang their own verse. It was answered by the priests, who were answered by the crowd. But rather than fade into echoes, the chanting continued, a tripartite harmony of slave, citizen, and priest which, despite the disparity in numbers, seemed to flow together seamlessly. The sacrificial maidens began to sway back and forth to the rhythm, and were joined by drumbeats from instruments secreted beneath the arena bleachers, sending vibrations through the seats. The soprano chanting of the slaves rose to a crescendo, and as it peaked a pair of figures appeared at opposite ends of the arena. One was a man garbed entirely in gold, in a robe that left his chest uncovered. The other wore a towering headdress of red feathers and black iron, with only a long skirt of black crocodile leather to accompany it. The frail figure of the man in the headdress left no doubt that it was Nezetkhamun in the regalia of his distant forefathers, and he and the golden man moved as if in a trance to the edge of the pit. The grinding of stone reverberated form beneath the ground, and a pair of stone bridges extended from the edge of the pit, allowing both men to meet at the central plinth. The voices from the female slaves died, and suddenly the arena was awash in silence.

A shadow began to pass over the ground, and in the sky the first hint of the eclipse appeared, a black halo creeping into the sun. Nezetkhamun and the golden man moved to the altar, where Nezetkhamun took up a long onyx blade and the golden man knelt before him. Raising the blade into the air, Nezetkhamun shouted with all his might, a near-wordless phrase that still seemed to resonate with his people. At once the drums began again, more frantic than before, and were almost drowned out by the chanting of the Tzalteca. The sacrifices in red stood finally, adding their voices to the chant, and with every beat of the drum they brought their arms together, striking golden bracelets to produce a piercing clang. They began to walk onto the arches, each step deliberate and rapturous as they neared the edge. As they did so, the lights from their torches grew ever more necessary, as the eclipse seemed to hasten its approach. Atop the altar, Nezetkhamun's voice was joined by that of the golden man, intertwining until they seemed as one, the unearthly conductor to this mass of humanity. It washed over the Teotlkan's foreign guests, who were only vaguely aware that the family of the Teotlkan was chanting with as much fervor as their subjects, their eyes glazed over in religious frenzy, barely keeping their seats in the grandeur of it all. At last, there was but a sliver of sunlight remaining, and a tortured cry went up from the altar. The sacrificial maidens brought their arms together, but rather than clash their bracelets together they brought the bangles' hidden razor blades against their wrists, releasing arcing sprays of blood that fell into the pool of Dragon's Blood like rain. They continued chanting, their voices growing ever fainter, as Nezetkhamun and the golden man began to rock together atop the altar. Then one of the sacrificial maidens fell, toppling from her precarious outcropping and splashing into the waiting oil. At once the pit at the center of the arena was a lake of fire, and more and more of the wounded slaves fell to fuel its roaring hunger. There was but a sliver of sunlight left as the last of them fell, but the infernal light illuminated the scene beyond even the sun's capabilities. Nezetkhamun raised the knife again, not in ceremony but in preparation, and as the frenzied crowd of Tzalteca seemed ready to tear themselves from their seats, he brought it down in a lethal stroke. The chest of the golden man was slit open from collar to navel, and Nezetkhamun was drenched in a spray of blood. The knife fell from his hands as he caught the golden man as he fell, before shoving his free hand into his sacrifice's chest. There was no scream as the golden man died, but die he did as Nezetkhamun ripped his beating heart from his chest, raising it towards the sun and releasing the corpse to slump upon the altar. Then, as the sun vanished entirely, Nezetkhamun brought the heart to his mouth and tore into it, biting a bloody chunk and swallowing it.

The sunlight died, and as if on cue the fire leapt into the air. As Nezetkhamun devoured the heart of an immortal, a vortex of flames rose up from the fiery lake surrounding him, obscuring him and the altar from vision as it rose into the air. The frantic cries of the Tzalteca came to a halt as their Teotlkan disappeared, and the silence was consumed by the roar of the fire. All that could be seen of Nezetkhamun was a black shadow at the heart of the flame, but as it burned on in that unnatural night his shadow contorted, growing larger and more monstrous until it seemed a flame within the flame. There was a blast of searing wind from the center of the firestorm, and a roar that drowned out that of the flame. On cue, the fiery vortex collapsed inwards, racing in tracery around some massive black thing upon the plinth, sucking the fiery lake with it until the arena was left in darkness. Deathly quiet fell upon the arena, made all the more ominous as a red glow began to spill from whatever shadowy thing had vanquished the fire. Then the eclipse began to slide from the sun, and light seeped back into the world, revealing the terror that awaited.

Its wings stretched almost the length of the arena ground, cruelly barbed wing tips casting razor shadows over the crowd. Its body was coated in black scales flecked through with golden veins, and a bloody red glow emanated from between them, as though the beast within was naught but living fire. Four powerful limbs gripped the edges of the plinth which seemed far too small to support the thing's bulk, and a long tail trailed into the pit, terminating a scythe-like blade. Its head rose on a sinuous neck to look down on the assembled crowd with eyes of molten gold, a crown of horns framing its predatory head. Rearing back, it roared again, flapping its wings with such force that the arena shook as it began to hover over the sacrificial pit. The crowd screamed in a terrible mixture of agony and ecstasy, and it seemed as though the beast's face contorted into a smile.

Then it spoke.

"My people! Do not fear! You see the blessings of Tzetultep made manifest for the first time in millenia! For I am your Teotlkan, and for the first time the purity of my spirit is reflected in the purity of my form. Rejoice, my Tzalteca! For as the Dragon's Eye fades, a new dawn rises over our Empire!"

There was a moment of stunned silence, before the arena erupted in riotous cheers. Everywhere save the royal box, where Nezetkhamun's children joined their foreign guests in shocked stares. Then a cry of alarm, as Eurydice brought a hand to her face, and found it coated in fine golden scales. Indeed, the entirety of Nezetkhamun's bloodline seemed transformed, their features all changed in subtle ways to match their newly draconic patriarch. Their shock was interrupted, though, as Nezetkhamun flapped closer. The glow from his body intensified, and it seemed his body shrank as he floated towards the box, until the glow was all that remained. Even that faded, and standing in its place was Nezetkhamun, not as he was, but as he undoubtedly saw himself - towering six and a half feet tall and perfectly muscled, his skin a pattern of golden-black scales, his horns brought together into a bony fringe. Still, his eyes remained molten gold, and his voice reverberated with the power of his transformation. He was naked, but with a sweep of his hand he seemed to drawn the shadows towards him until he was garbed in a robe of total darkness. Then he smiled that familiar smile.

"You see, Ghalle? The risk was worth it after all."

Aedilred

2014-10-19, 11:52 AM

His great age, and the white colouring of his eyes, had led more than one observer to conclude that Jonas was blind. It was a misconception he was more than happy to allow, in most cases, but he could see just as well as any man, and better than most. There was something awful about the tapestry of events unfolding before them even before the sacrifices began, though he held himself upright even as Atheldynn shifted uncomfortably and cast glances in the direction of Gun Huang to see his reaction.

Then his eyes lit upon the golden man standing next to Neztkhamun.

The guests had no doubt been seated so far back with the intention that nobody would recognise the man. Perhaps nobody else on Telluris would have, even had they been closer, for none of them had ever seen him before. But Jonas would have known her anywhere.

"Shvedri?"

He stood almost instinctively, shrugging off restraining arms as if they were nothing. With the agility of a man less than half his age, in a moment he was standing on the edge of the box, staring out towards the plinth, his hand shifting to a fighting grip on his cane.

The sudden movement seemed to catch the golden man's attention for a moment, and their eyes met, eighty feet apart. Jonas faltered for a moment, his shoulders sagging as the full weight of his years appeared to bear down upon him, and the conviction on his face momentarily replaced with confusion.

Then Nezetkhamun struck, and Xochiconetl fell. Jonas fell too, toppling over back into the box atop his nephew. Atheldynn moved to catch him, but Jonas was dead before he reached the ground.

DoomHat

2014-10-19, 12:07 PM

Nezetkhamun might find it hard to resist contemplating the national motto of New Crima as Chineeleg's demeanor transformed before his eyes. “Pain Breeds Wisdom”.

His eyes went from the soft wateriness of a beleaguered puppy to the the casual cruelty of a scarred and tested wolf. He pulled off his ridiculous ruffled collor has his shoulders loosed from from a back set popusness to the casual shrug of a man preparied to either accept a drink of intercept a knife with equal cander.

He knelt before The Teotlkan, resting on his knuckles.

“Forgive the false pretense, this one is Tagnuul Buu of the Tyrant's Covert Services. Our unit’s mission is to identify potential foreign enemies of New Crima and discourage high opinion of any surviving members of the extinct Kaliphate.

Tyrant Geriin wished to have someone observe this singular event, and relay and or retrieve any vital information facilitating our two Nation's discrete co-operation. I am forced to presume all of your personnel currently present are deemed 'worthy' to survive hearing these words?”

zabbarot

2014-10-19, 06:32 PM

Morph Bark

2014-10-21, 05:08 PM

Gun Huang
Seeing his extended hand shrink back, Eurydice's own hand crept out to meet Gun Huang's. Her touch was soft as rose petals, and warm as the summer morning.

"I could not say, good Prince. I have yet to venture beyond the borders of Tzalteclan, and what I know of foreign custom I have learned from books or my brothers' stories."

She leaned in close, resting her free hand on his upper arm.

"Might you...instruct me on the proper courtesies of your people? Senusret speaks highly of your empire, and it would be a joy to learn more about you, my Prince."

Her voice lowered to a whisper.

"As to my name, my mother took a liking to it in her travels before joining my father's harem. I am told it means song of the morning."

The touch of Eurydice made Gun Huang feel warm inside for the first time in months. His trip crossing the ocean and residing in Glazfell for over a month had granted him little in the way of that, but Tzalteclan was in stark contrast with that--and Eurydice was in stark contrast with the Glazfelli women. He still recalled how his nipples were hard for hours after his wrestling match with Caris. To feel a warm woman's touch again in this manner was rather pleasant.

"That's a beautiful meaning. It would be a joy to teach such an eager student. Senusret knows what he's speaking of."

Behind them, Zuei Markus Shuyan pressed his lips together tightly. He disapproved of the imperial prince fraternizing with the Tzalteca. The memory of the death of his eldest brother hadn't faded at all, and he blamed the Tzaltec prince's recklessness and lust for destruction fully. Had Benhua been here instead of him, he would've lost his second brother in an act of revenge for the first. He just grit his teeth behind a well-kept poker face and swallowed a big chunk of Zuei pride.

Atheldynn had fifteen nieces and nephews, aside from his own two children and ten grandchildren, and to say nothing of the ten great-nieces and nephews of which he was aware, his adopted niece and three nephews, and their children. Keeping them all straight was something of a challenge, so it came as rather a relief at the banquet to spy relatives he could identify unambiguously. He made his way over to Gun Huang and the Glazfelli, offered a slight bow to the ladies and an avuncular nod to Gun Huang.

"My lady, lord prince*, what a pleasure to see you here. Allow me to introduce my uncle Jonas, son of Queen Amber - Gun Huang's uncle, too, of course. Uncle, my cousing Princess Faewen of the Glazfell, and of course Gun Huang you will know."

Jonas nodded politely and slightly stiffly, his white eyes betraying nothing.

"Is this your first time in Tzalteclan? How do you find it?"

"Uncle Atheldynn!" Gun Huang exclaimed in surprise. "I had not expected to see you here, of all people. Granduncle Jonas, how're you?"

He intentionally brushed a little closer to Eurydice as he held on to his uncle's eyes. A smile played on his lips. "I can't say I'm finding it anything but a pleasure so far. The weather is warm, the wine flows and the eyes feast as much as I hope my mouth shall later." He noted ambiguously.

The Ceremony
Nearly a week passed after the night of the banquet, a week of constant revelry and rhythmic hymnals, of contests of strength by the faithful before the Teotlkan and his foreign guests, a week of fire within and without. And all through the week, a keen eye could see the framework of the arena beyond the city growing ever larger, as great beams were lashed together into a vast wall of bleachers, and towering jugs of Dragon's Blood were carted from the jungle. Still, in the dizzying wine soaked miasma of debauchery and zeal there was little time to dwell on the matter. Until the day finally arrived, and the city itself seemed transformed. While the guests had retired to their chambers the night before to the sounds of ongoing celebration, the sun rose with nary a sound. Indeed, from the palace of the Teotlkan the city seemed to have died in the night. But then a gong sounded from the palace's central pyramid, a tone of such rumbling strength that it carried to the docks and beyond. Once, twice, three times the sound thundered down from Nezetkhamun's mountaintop, and as the echo faded the streets began to fill.

During the celebrations, it had been impossible to escape the red and gold of Tzalteclan. The streets filled with red clothed Tzalteca and red tents until they seemed veins running with blood, and the palace itself was a testament to Tzalteclan's wealth. But on that morning, the streets seemed blotted out with darkness, as the Tzalteca gathered in black ceremonial garments of shocking modesty. Even the Teotlkan's striking harem had retired their jewels and patterned silks for simple black wraps, wide golden diadems the only sign of their status. The city's priestly seneschals seemed more like reapers in their midnight appointments, though the dour mood did little to dim their smiles as they lead their foreign charges beyond the city and to the ritual site itself.

It had been carved from the ground over a period of months, an oval pit that stretched more than a hundred feet at its widest point. From the center rose a plinth almost twenty feet in diameter on which rested a low altar, and rising from the edge in regular intervals were one hundred short, curved arches that terminated in the open air. The entire edifice had been constructed in black granite and onyx, and the bottom of the pit was clearly filled with an immense wealth of Dragon's Blood. The family of the Teotlkan and his guests were seated in a sturdy box nestled into the bleachers eighty feet from the edge of the pit, but to the mystery of all the Teotlkan himself was not present. Questions regarding his location were met with only knowing smiles and assurances that all would be made clear, and as the morning proceeded more and more Tzalteca streamed into the arena. Eventually, ten thousand black-clad Tzaltec native crowded the seats, and all eyes turned to the preparations on the field.

As the sun neared its zenith, row upon row of Tzaltec priests entered the arena, kneeling down to form a rectangle around the pit, they faced inwards, but when they let loose a sonorous verse in the Tzaltec language, their words reverberated through the crowd. They were answered with a similar phrase from ten thousand mouths, and followed with a different intonation. Ten phrases were traded between the priests and the crowd, the thunder of human voices seeming to shake the very ground, and when the last Tzaltec prayer faded there was further movement at the gates into the arena ground. Carrying lit torches in each hand, one hundred women in revealing red robes drifted into the arena, passing through the gaps at the corners of the priests' rectangle and taking their positions at the base of the curving arches. They knelt down, raising their torches to their sides, and sang their own verse. It was answered by the priests, who were answered by the crowd. But rather than fade into echoes, the chanting continued, a tripartite harmony of slave, citizen, and priest which, despite the disparity in numbers, seemed to flow together seamlessly. The sacrificial maidens began to sway back and forth to the rhythm, and were joined by drumbeats from instruments secreted beneath the arena bleachers, sending vibrations through the seats. The soprano chanting of the slaves rose to a crescendo, and as it peaked a pair of figures appeared at opposite ends of the arena. One was a man garbed entirely in gold, in a robe that left his chest uncovered. The other wore a towering headdress of red feathers and black iron, with only a long skirt of black crocodile leather to accompany it. The frail figure of the man in the headdress left no doubt that it was Nezetkhamun in the regalia of his distant forefathers, and he and the golden man moved as if in a trance to the edge of the pit. The grinding of stone reverberated form beneath the ground, and a pair of stone bridges extended from the edge of the pit, allowing both men to meet at the central plinth. The voices from the female slaves died, and suddenly the arena was awash in silence.

A shadow began to pass over the ground, and in the sky the first hint of the eclipse appeared, a black halo creeping into the sun. Nezetkhamun and the golden man moved to the altar, where Nezetkhamun took up a long onyx blade and the golden man knelt before him. Raising the blade into the air, Nezetkhamun shouted with all his might, a near-wordless phrase that still seemed to resonate with his people. At once the drums began again, more frantic than before, and were almost drowned out by the chanting of the Tzalteca. The sacrifices in red stood finally, adding their voices to the chant, and with every beat of the drum they brought their arms together, striking golden bracelets to produce a piercing clang. They began to walk onto the arches, each step deliberate and rapturous as they neared the edge. As they did so, the lights from their torches grew ever more necessary, as the eclipse seemed to hasten its approach. Atop the altar, Nezetkhamun's voice was joined by that of the golden man, intertwining until they seemed as one, the unearthly conductor to this mass of humanity. It washed over the Teotlkan's foreign guests, who were only vaguely aware that the family of the Teotlkan was chanting with as much fervor as their subjects, their eyes glazed over in religious frenzy, barely keeping their seats in the grandeur of it all. At last, there was but a sliver of sunlight remaining, and a tortured cry went up from the altar. The sacrificial maidens brought their arms together, but rather than clash their bracelets together they brought the bangles' hidden razor blades against their wrists, releasing arcing sprays of blood that fell into the pool of Dragon's Blood like rain. They continued chanting, their voices growing ever fainter, as Nezetkhamun and the golden man began to rock together atop the altar. Then one of the sacrificial maidens fell, toppling from her precarious outcropping and splashing into the waiting oil. At once the pit at the center of the arena was a lake of fire, and more and more of the wounded slaves fell to fuel its roaring hunger. There was but a sliver of sunlight left as the last of them fell, but the infernal light illuminated the scene beyond even the sun's capabilities. Nezetkhamun raised the knife again, not in ceremony but in preparation, and as the frenzied crowd of Tzalteca seemed ready to tear themselves from their seats, he brought it down in a lethal stroke. The chest of the golden man was slit open from collar to navel, and Nezetkhamun was drenched in a spray of blood. The knife fell from his hands as he caught the golden man as he fell, before shoving his free hand into his sacrifice's chest. There was no scream as the golden man died, but die he did as Nezetkhamun ripped his beating heart from his chest, raising it towards the sun and releasing the corpse to slump upon the altar. Then, as the sun vanished entirely, Nezetkhamun brought the heart to his mouth and tore into it, biting a bloody chunk and swallowing it.

The sunlight died, and as if on cue the fire leapt into the air. As Nezetkhamun devoured the heart of an immortal, a vortex of flames rose up from the fiery lake surrounding him, obscuring him and the altar from vision as it rose into the air. The frantic cries of the Tzalteca came to a halt as their Teotlkan disappeared, and the silence was consumed by the roar of the fire. All that could be seen of Nezetkhamun was a black shadow at the heart of the flame, but as it burned on in that unnatural night his shadow contorted, growing larger and more monstrous until it seemed a flame within the flame. There was a blast of searing wind from the center of the firestorm, and a roar that drowned out that of the flame. On cue, the fiery vortex collapsed inwards, racing in tracery around some massive black thing upon the plinth, sucking the fiery lake with it until the arena was left in darkness. Deathly quiet fell upon the arena, made all the more ominous as a red glow began to spill from whatever shadowy thing had vanquished the fire. Then the eclipse began to slide from the sun, and light seeped back into the world, revealing the terror that awaited.

Its wings stretched almost the length of the arena ground, cruelly barbed wing tips casting razor shadows over the crowd. Its body was coated in black scales flecked through with golden veins, and a bloody red glow emanated from between them, as though the beast within was naught but living fire. Four powerful limbs gripped the edges of the plinth which seemed far too small to support the thing's bulk, and a long tail trailed into the pit, terminating a scythe-like blade. Its head rose on a sinuous neck to look down on the assembled crowd with eyes of molten gold, a crown of horns framing its predatory head. Rearing back, it roared again, flapping its wings with such force that the arena shook as it began to hover over the sacrificial pit. The crowd screamed in a terrible mixture of agony and ecstasy, and it seemed as though the beast's face contorted into a smile.

Then it spoke.

"My people! Do not fear! You see the blessings of Tzetultep made manifest for the first time in millenia! For I am your Teotlkan, and for the first time the purity of my spirit is reflected in the purity of my form. Rejoice, my Tzalteca! For as the Dragon's Eye fades, a new dawn rises over our Empire!"

There was a moment of stunned silence, before the arena erupted in riotous cheers. Everywhere save the royal box, where Nezetkhamun's children joined their foreign guests in shocked stares. Then a cry of alarm, as Eurydice brought a hand to her face, and found it coated in fine golden scales. Indeed, the entirety of Nezetkhamun's bloodline seemed transformed, their features all changed in subtle ways to match their newly draconic patriarch. Their shock was interrupted, though, as Nezetkhamun flapped closer. The glow from his body intensified, and it seemed his body shrank as he floated towards the box, until the glow was all that remained. Even that faded, and standing in its place was Nezetkhamun, not as he was, but as he undoubtedly saw himself - towering six and a half feet tall and perfectly muscled, his skin a pattern of golden-black scales, his horns brought together into a bony fringe. Still, his eyes remained molten gold, and his voice reverberated with the power of his transformation. He was naked, but with a sweep of his hand he seemed to drawn the shadows towards him until he was garbed in a robe of total darkness. Then he smiled that familiar smile.

"You see, Ghalle? The risk was worth it after all."

Gun Huang was frozen as if entranced and spellbound by a curse of god-inspired terror. His heart raced with an instinct to fight, his mind recalled ancient prayers and accursed oaths and blessings of the Wyrm Below at the sight that unfolded before his very eyes. He knew not the shining-eyed golden man Nezetkhamun struck down before the eyes of all, but he now knew the Teotlkan to be a man of literal bloodlust of a kind that could not be sated the way a normal man's lust could be--not now, not evermore, with the shape of a dragon now having become Nezetkhamun's true form.

"Fear." He murmured. Of course the Teotlkan wanted his people to fear. The mantra of the ancient Qzares had been love, fear, respect, on the subject of what they should inspire in their subjects to ensure the greatest loyalty. You can't fight against what you fear, not effectively, not without having to overcome that extra obstacle first. And a dragon? A dragon would inspire fear of such sort that Nezetkhamun's rule would not be challenged by any within his realm, nor those of neighbouring realms. It'd take a madman or a hero of divine blood to kill him now. And though madmen had been aplenty in his bloodline--some attributed it to storm berapi ancestry, others simple lust for power--what divine blood Gun Huang possibly could have to conquer such a ginormous dragon would surely be far from enough.

He turned around at cries from within the royal box that resounded around him and noticed that in that moment the Tzalteca royals had changed the way their lord father had had. He locked eyes on Eurydice foremost and saw the fine golden scales that now made up her skin. Gun Huang drew a sharp breath and moved over to her, for both investigation and comfort. Such change did not come lightly to a person's mental faculties, and he needed time to process everything as well. If anything, he remarked absent-mindedly, it at least had not diminished Eurydice's beauty at all, and he wondered what his sisters would say if he'd voice desire for a golden-skinned woman.

Better not think about that. Huanle would surely force him to marry the girl instantly.

Aedilred

2014-10-21, 09:35 PM

"Uncle Atheldynn!" Gun Huang exclaimed in surprise. "I had not expected to see you here, of all people. Granduncle Jonas, how're you?"

He intentionally brushed a little closer to Eurydice as he held on to his uncle's eyes. A smile played on his lips. "I can't say I'm finding it anything but a pleasure so far. The weather is warm, the wine flows and the eyes feast as much as I hope my mouth shall later." He noted ambiguously.
"I turn up in all sorts of places. The king did not want to offend the Tzaltec by snubbing their festival, for I understand it is supposed to be a high honour for us even to be here, but equally he did not feel he could acceptably leave the kingdom for long enough to attend himself. So here I am. Uncle Jonas is just here to give me some company." He looked around the room. "I am sure if the banquet measures up to the standards set of the hospitality so far, your mouth will not be disappointed."

"Nor will any other body parts you are planning to treat, I expect," Jonas added. His scars and white eyes made it impossible to tell whether he was joking, or indeed precisely what - or who - he was looking at when he said it. "I am as well as can be expected," he added. "I would go into detail, but I suspect you would find it boring. Everyone else does."

TheDarkDM

2014-10-22, 02:35 AM

Rebel Scum

Nezetkhamun chuckled as he waved away the lone attendant who had brought the operative into his presence.

"Indeed. To act against my will is blasphemy in Tzalteclan. Please, convey my compliments to the Good Tyrant for sending such excellent actors. I imagine event King Ghalle was taken in by the ruse."

He leaned to take hold of a crystal decanter and a golden goblet.

"Wine? Or did you drink your fill at the banquet?"

The Box

Eurydice stood stock still, staring at hails that had lengthened to delicate claws on a newly-scaled hand. Gun Huang's approach only seemed to partially wake her from her stupor, as she met his eyes with her own, the pupils narrowed to slits, the irises gleaming amber.

"My prince..."

The enormity of her change finally sank in, and her knees buckled, sending her tumbling into Gun Huang's arms. Catching her trembling form, he could not help but note the smell of wild roses in her hair, the warmth of her body, and the uncanny smoothness of her skin. Still, she trembled, sending all such thoughts to the distant reaches of the gallant prince's mind. Reaching up to cup his cheek, she stared up into his eyes.

"My prince, I feel..."

She pulled him close, close enough to whisper.

"Wonderful."

Her lips brushed against his, and for a moment she forgot where she was, who was around them. Then her father floated into view, resplendent in his newly-claimed godhead, and she came back to herself. Straightening, she remained on Gun Huang's arm as the Teotlkan knelt to examine the body of Jonas.

"You have my deepest apologies, Lord Atheldynn. Had I known how violent my ascension would be, I would have warned your uncle."

Morph Bark

2014-10-22, 05:20 PM

"I turn up in all sorts of places. The king did not want to offend the Tzaltec by snubbing their festival, for I understand it is supposed to be a high honour for us even to be here, but equally he did not feel he could acceptably leave the kingdom for long enough to attend himself. So here I am. Uncle Jonas is just here to give me some company." He looked around the room. "I am sure if the banquet measures up to the standards set of the hospitality so far, your mouth will not be disappointed."

"Nor will any other body parts you are planning to treat, I expect," Jonas added. His scars and white eyes made it impossible to tell whether he was joking, or indeed precisely what - or who - he was looking at when he said it. "I am as well as can be expected," he added. "I would go into detail, but I suspect you would find it boring. Everyone else does."

"Always the one to end up at the party, never the one to seek it out, eh?" Gun Huang summed up. "You're probably right though. My time in Glazfell was well cared for, if not truly pleasant for the mood, so all in all I am glad to be in warmer reaches again." He nodded at his granduncle Jonas and had to restrain his smile from widening considering present company--politeness and constraint were still virtues even among those one knew, after all. "If need be, we can talk about such details when not in the presence of those who'd be bored by it, uncle Jonas. I'm glad to see you here as well, stretching your old sea legs."

You wanna do the bit on the stuff we talked about for after the ceremony?

The Box

Eurydice stood stock still, staring at hails that had lengthened to delicate claws on a newly-scaled hand. Gun Huang's approach only seemed to partially wake her from her stupor, as she met his eyes with her own, the pupils narrowed to slits, the irises gleaming amber.

"My prince..."

The enormity of her change finally sank in, and her knees buckled, sending her tumbling into Gun Huang's arms. Catching her trembling form, he could not help but note the smell of wild roses in her hair, the warmth of her body, and the uncanny smoothness of her skin. Still, she trembled, sending all such thoughts to the distant reaches of the gallant prince's mind. Reaching up to cup his cheek, she stared up into his eyes.

"My prince, I feel..."

She pulled him close, close enough to whisper.

"Wonderful."

Her lips brushed against his, and for a moment she forgot where she was, who was around them. Then her father floated into view, resplendent in his newly-claimed godhead, and she came back to herself. Straightening, she remained on Gun Huang's arm as the Teotlkan knelt to examine the body of Jonas.

"You have my deepest apologies, Lord Atheldynn. Had I known how violent my ascension would be, I would have warned your uncle."

Amber. Her eyes were amber. Gun Huang was unsure if he'd really noticed before or if they had changed with her skin, but now that Eurydice looked at him in an altogether new way, with new eyes, he felt like that small fact was most significant of all. He ran a hand over her arm and felt it to be as smooth as silk, like the skin of a king cobra, with a warmth of having been in the sun for the entire day and an inner heat.

He frowned a bit. She seemed okay, mostly, but he could only see so much of the transformation--to what degree could it have affected her mind, and the rest of her below the skin? He'd seen what corruption could lurk just below the surface of the skin, sailor's afflictions and cancerous growths of the soul. He leaned in when she spoke softly to him and was caught off guard when she whispered to him and brushed her lips to his own. Her smell called to mind the flower fields of his homeland, yet with images of figures fantastic and exotic leaping through.

If he wasn't sure she was fine before, he was now.

The appearance of the Teotlkan didn't stir Gun Huang as much as it did Eurydice, perhaps because he wasn't as immediately aware of him as she was. He shook his distraction off and looked the man over in awe... and only then realized what more had happened right beside him. "Jonas!" He hurried towards the old man's body and took hold of his hand. It was cold and pale, in stark contrast with those of the transformed Tzalteca. No doubt the grisly ceremony had given him a heart attack. No doubt? He wasn't entirely sure; Jonas had always seemed like a strong man, at least of mind.

"Nanaiva*'s gonna kill us." He murmured.

*grandmother

Aedilred

2014-10-22, 10:02 PM

Her lips brushed against his, and for a moment she forgot where she was, who was around them. Then her father floated into view, resplendent in his newly-claimed godhead, and she came back to herself. Straightening, she remained on Gun Huang's arm as the Teotlkan knelt to examine the body of Jonas.

"You have my deepest apologies, Lord Atheldynn. Had I known how violent my ascension would be, I would have warned your uncle."

You wanna do the bit on the stuff we talked about for after the ceremony?The appearance of the Teotlkan didn't stir Gun Huang as much as it did Eurydice, perhaps because he wasn't as immediately aware of him as she was. He shook his distraction off and looked the man over in awe... and only then realized what more had happened right beside him. [COLOR="#0000FF"]"Jonas!" He hurried towards the old man's body and took hold of his hand. It was cold and pale, in stark contrast with those of the transformed Tzalteca. No doubt the grisly ceremony had given him a heart attack. No doubt? He wasn't entirely sure; Jonas had always seemed like a strong man, at least of mind.

"Nanaiva*'s gonna kill us." He murmured.

*grandmother
Sure! :smallamused:

"He's gone," he muttered, trying to keep a tremor from his voice. Atheldynn rose, slowly. He felt sick, whether from the gruesome spectacle, the shock of Jonas's death, or the giant dragon staring at him was impossible to tell. All he knew was that he had to leave. He grasped the cane that had fallen from his uncle's hand and held it firmly, pressing it hard against the ground to disguise the shaking of his hand. He nodded gravely to the Teotlkan, as respectfully as he could manage, then turned and made his way as quickly as was seemly from the box.

He had hoped that removing himself from the arena would help, but the air back in his apartments felt no less sticky and cloying. Thoughts piled up on top of each other in his head, clouding his mind. He needed to tell his sisters, his mother, his brothers. With still-shaking hands he retrieved ink and parchment and attempted to write a letter while the thoughts were still fresh in his mind, but he had no control over either his phrasing or his hand. He attempted two drafts before abandoning the idea. He could contain himself no longer and vomited into a chamberpot, shuddering as the last of the bile passed his lips. He felt no better, but he knew his duties were not over, and he would need something to steady his nerves. He found some wine that had been left for him, and drained it.

His hand was still shaking.

Taking Jonas's cane to steady himself, he went in search of more wine.

DoomHat

2014-10-23, 12:14 AM

Tagnuul accepted the glass and moved to sit across from Nezetkhamun in a single smooth motion.
"Of course not."

He sipped gingerly and set himself into the illusion of a relaxed posture.
"The Tyrant said you might be amused. I'm sure you have other more pressing guests to entertain, I'll not inflict any witty repartee or elaborate fawning praise on your most noble personage. I am here to do the Tyrant's business.

First she regrets that building New Crima's military forces to their maximum numbers has been made frustratingly slow due to the extra ordinary measure needed to implement the massive influx of technologies we've received. Further, we need a greater number of essential imports. Wood and paper most especially and basic metals, as well as a few more exotic items. If you could please arrange discreet meetings with the other Concordant members to that end?

Lastly, it is impossible under the current agreement for you to gift us technologies, but the Tyrant asks your permission to send her agents to reverse engineer and 'steal' concepts with your approval. A display of anger on your part and audacity on ours would do much to further our global shadow play, and increase greatly their shock and confusion when our armies are able to finally act in unison against the unworthy West."