Total War Hanrui 4: World War Hanrui IC

[St. Justicar]

Drowned Balam

Deep within the risen City’s grand temples and midnight arcades, so far from the sea that one might go mad seeking anything but the ashen black of civilization and the iridescent glory of the Blood, there is a plaza, which in ages past was a market, and a mustering ground, and a pyre. In its centre is a beautiful fountain, and atop that fountain an awesome throne.

For sleepless weeks scriveners and scholars had poured over the hieroglyphs and mosaics that surrounded it, as their peers spent their genius on ever-more potent refinements of the Blood. Now, as the sovereign moon rose pink and full in the sky, their lord would enjoy the fruits of their work.

Keilser Dov was a giant among men, foremost among the captains of Drowned Balam. It was he who had first drunk of the Blood, and so disturbed the dreaming death which now so rules all those carrion crows who had thought to pick it clean.

Now he took his basalt throne, resplendent in his rainments, his Men of Brass gathered around him by their hundreds, beating their shields or singing in chorus as they were bid. Around him darted adepts and Ruinseekers, steel and glass flashing in the moonlight as they bled him of every tainted drop in his veins.

The ritual began as the bloody moon reached its zenith and continued until the masses’ arms were leaden and the chorus’ throats were raw, though it had not yet begun its descent. The mists which so damned the unwary and unprepared sealed the plaza, but all within was clear and cloudless. The beasts and wretches who haunted every corner, and the mad and lost so ruled by lunacy on these blessed nights, were nowhere to be seen. This rite was sacred and sacrosanct, and all who had tasted the Blood knew it.

Dov styled himself the Brass Duke, though he was neither. But as he was bled to the edge of nothing, his knuckles white as he held his throne and bit down on leather to guard his dignity against unbecoming cries, those ministering to him unveiled knives and needles of that very thing, piercing his flesh with a score of glass tubes and flasks, vessels for the refined substance which would now fill his heart.

Oh Reader, if you could see his eyes as this blessed ichor raced through his veins. How he shook! How he screamed! How terror triumphed over pride! For his rainments were shackles now, his empty arms too weak to bear the weight of his own splendid armour. But the City’s ancient soul took pity and hid his shame, drowning his cries with a new chorus from beyond the plaza’s edge, howls both lupine and lunatic paying their homage to his greed, which now seemed so like zeal.

The man’s pathetic struggles grew as his heart was filled, and for the first time pumped with deathless blood. He shuddered, as if overcome with seizure, and as his fists closed they crushed the rock beneath them to powder. He screamed truly now, roared, as muscle and bone erupted and stretched his hardening skin. He had been called a giant of a man, and now he became one in truth, as tall as any two warriors in his company, as fearsome to behold as any ten. His hair and beard grew wild and thick, the lustrous color of decades past returning to them, and his eyes were strange to behold, the abyssal black of the stones beneath which he would find his glory.

At last he shuddered, and gasped, and grew still. And then in one thunderous heartbeat he stood, and from the fountain beneath him a nameless liquid began to rush, though all who drank it would know it as ambrosia.

As one, the Men of Brass bowed before their captain. And with them, the moon began its descent across the sky.

Lord Keilser Dov is now level 2


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Rep 3, Morale 4

Spoiler: Azcanti Empite

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All are welcome in Balam’s harbour district, and the most your emissaries need worry about are the excess and roughness common to all sailors in port and soldiers at rest. Any greater risks they stumble on would only be what they went seeking.

We are seekers, not conquistadors, we live for the glory of the ancient and the transcendent, not the dream of dusting Hanrui with the ashes of yet another passing empire. Should you wish to plant your flag on the isle of Mhallo and claim an embassy, we will not oppose you. But out surveyors have found promising hints of what might lay beneath [51], and we cannot in good conscience give it up. I offer instead [52] to your tender mercies, should you wish to take it. The start of a beautiful friendship, I’m sure.

This assumes your offer of support is genuine, of course. Depending on the reception the idea of expanding our search to to the far shores of Hanrui receive, I may yet ask you to make it public.

Spoiler: Halls of Bound Prophecy

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Greetings, oh eyeless seer,

I have nothing but respect for your many arts and talents, and look forward to a day where I might hear you prophecy on the nature of this blessed and haunted land.

To that end, and to ensure that there is no needless strife, I write to inform you that my peers have made plans and are charting maps to extend our search for the lost glories of the ancients. They will make landfall in the coming months, and in the end will lay claim to the seaward curve of the Spine of Khalos [17, 18], so as to study the nature of its emergence.

Once the first maps have been charted, I would be very interested in the possibility of trade, or of cooperation in deciphering the mysteries of those who came before us.

Spoiler: Seeds of Bifuldor

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Greetings, oh horizon-walking exiles,
I must admit I regard your confederacy with envy, such are the talents and passions you have assembled, they put my own city’s arts to shame. I wait with baited breath to see the wonders they may yet unearth from this blessed land, and hope to call your best and brightest friends as they do.

To that end, and to ensure that there is no needless strife, I write to inform you that my peers have made plans and are charting maps to extend our search for the lost glories of the ancients. They will make landfall in the coming months, and in the end will lay claim to the seaward curve of the Spine of Khalos [17, 18], so as to study the nature of its emergence.

Once the first maps have been charted, I would be very interested in the possibility of trade, or of cooperation in seeking the arts and treasures of the ancients, side by side..

Spoiler: Steel Soul Sect

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Greetings, oh seekers of perfection,

I have nothing but respect for your many arts and talents, and look forward to a day where I might see the greatness you have achieved with mine own eyes.

To that end, and to ensure that there is no needless strife, I write to inform you that my peers have made plans and are charting maps to extend our search for the lost glories of the ancients. They will make landfall in the coming months, and in the end will lay claim to the seaward curve of the Spine of Khalos [17, 18], so as to study the nature of its emergence.

Once the first maps have been charted, I would be very interested in the possibility of trade, and depending on the stances of our other neighbours, we may yet ask you to make good on your offer of service as a champion.

Spoiler: Nine-Layered Bank

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Greetings, oh fiendish financiers,

If you’re seeking investment opportunities, our City would be well-served by a loan, or the contracted aid of your surveyors and explorers. The expeditions and research required by our Great Work has outpaced our ability to carry them out, and an infusion of capital would pay for itself many times over.