Total War - Mandate of Heaven

[Eldan]

Midturn 1

Clan Fuxi [5]

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The Spirit World resists the advance of the White Snake Clan, fighting back with more ardour than it has shown in a long time. Stepping between worlds feels like pushing through a thorny hedge, and the astral projections of the noble chosen arrive scratched and bleeding. A maze awaits them, twisting corridors between thorny hedges, the black thorns long and curved as daggers. It takes what feels like days, and one by one, the minds of explorers would flicker out, their bodies in the real world exhausted and passing out.
Then, the hedges open, into a beautiful garden. An orchard of mulberry trees provides gentle shade. Draped over the branches are the most beautiful silken gowns, robes, dresses, shawls. White, furry silk moths flutter between them, lazy in the sun.
If there is a spirit here, it is well hidden.
Tamachi is the first to approach. Carefully, with gloved hands, she touches a long silk shawl, white with pearl embroidery. Looking deeper, she begins to notice the pattern of the silk threads... geometric patterns, like formulae. Circles, bindings, leylines, they are all there, so tantalizingly close. Fascinated against her better judgement, she runs her finger over it.
That's when the shawl strikes. Like a snake, it shoots out, wraps itself around Tamachi's neck. But she is not so easily defeated, and especially not by a... thing using her own powers against her. At the last moment, she gets an arm under the strangling silk, protecting her windpipe. Trashing and grunting, she goes to the floor, vanishing from the spirit world before her attendants can reach her.

Borte is more careful. Touching nothing, she stands in the middle of the glade, looking for patterns. It takes half an hour, before she is sure. Yes, there. One of the moths moves differently from the others, heavily. And something dark hangs from its abdomen. A key. Slowly, carefully, so to not spook the spirit, she lifts a blowpipe to her mouth, a tiny dart already loaded. One puff of air, and the moth is nailed to a tree. For a few seconds, it still trashes, then falls limp. Seconds later, the other moths fall from the sky, crumbling to white dust before they reach the ground. The only thing that remains is a small key of heavy, black metal, surrounded by a tiny core of fluttering white energy.

Careful examination of the garden reveals a way forward: under a trapdoor, hidden under sod and living grass, is a tunnel, cramped, slippery and dark, leading into the living Earth.

It is not a triumphant expedition that returns to the waking world. Yes, they come laden with priceless silks, and a new core of energy, already devoured and reformed by Fuxi, ready to be implanted. But Mistress Tamachi lies motionless in the waking world, trashing in a raging fever.



Gain: 3 t.eco, 3 t.art, 3 t.esp, 1 t.inv, 2 bonus XP on Tamachi
Lose: Tamachi is injured and can not act next turn, lose 1 permanent inv as careless dwellers lose their lives to thorns and exhaustion.
From Faction Ability: The Silkmoth Spirit knows how to disguise its energy, until it can barely be seen. Moths swarm around the bearer, bringing words and images from afar. The bearer also has the ability to weave keys out of thin air, so that no lock can resist them. Gain a +2 Esp VIP.
Progress: 6/10 on next delve

Hemminghock [5]

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Hemminghock Shamans are not like those of other explorers. Theirs is not a way of mysticism and dreamwalking. No, they begin their exploration with a wedge of armored, shotgun-carrying bull-men, inscribed with the runes that open the ways for them and turn away danger. A perimeter is established, the situation assessed, signals relayed. Only then, behind this protection, come the naga-shamans.

What they find is... confusing. There is a marble palace, with hundreds of colums, the white turned golden in the light of the setting sun. Fountains burble pleasantly and the air is cool and fragrant. A cloth banner hangs in an elegant arc between two of the pillars. "WELCOME EXPLORERS", say the friendly letters.

There is a table set and on it, there are... bowls of pearls, each gently glowing with a blue light. The shamans recognize them: Ghostwise Pearls, the greatest treasure of distant Riadra, now all the more valuable that the colonies have been lost. Each carries a spark of pure magical essence in it, ready to be used by artificers or invokers.

Next to the pearls on the table is a small card, thick cream-colored paper and on it elegant penmanship.
"A welcome gift. Freely given, no strings attached, no favours owed, just for goodwill, totally not trapped, I swear it thrice by my name and my power."

No one would trust that, of course. There are hours of investigation, scanning the pearls for curses, espionage hexes. The shamans find none. There are also no poisons, magical or otherwise, hostile spirits, not even a dark fate waiting for the finder in a distant future of the wyrd.

Finally, one of the shamans has enough, and just grabs one. Nothing happens. They really just... seem to be gifts.

Gains: 2 t.art, 2 t.inv.
Losses: nothing
Weird side effects: none at all
Progress: 5/10

Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh [7]

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Acknowledged.

Gudite Warcamp [4]

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The Spirits of Ardakand, of this barbaric continent, do not seem inclined to deal with foreigners today. Instead of whatever test or obstacles they would expect the spirits to throw at them, the explorers find only desolation. The ground stretches to infinity in all directions, grey-brown sand, baked and hardened by the unreleting sun into a perfect, flat plain, undisturbed by any wind. The sun never sets in the bronze sky and the heat is unimagineable. One by one, the explorers begin to pass out, their spiritual bodies fading as their will falters. Some will wake up again, in the waking world, some will never return.

But the Leviathan does not falter. Words fail, as the heat beats down on him, but he grips the nearest acolytes by the shoulders, reassuring, and they nod. This is not real heat, they know, not real sun, not real thirst. It is a test of will.

Slowly, step by halting step, they stumble forward, across the featureless plain. It might be hours, or it might be weeks, there is no way to tell under the unmoving, merciless sun, and the featureless landscape. Just one step, after another. There is nothing to find here. They should give up, return while they still can.

Until they find... a ripple in the landscape. Not even a dune, not even knee high, just a depression and a small rise, curving across the land. They follow it, for there is no other direction here. Then they find another, cutting across the first, and then more, and more.

Thinking is hard, but they know what they have found, eventually. There are petroglyphs, in this sand, unimaginably huge pictures, carved into the landscape. As Solyom realizes, his perspective shifts. He is now the sun, looking down on the landscape and the immense glyphs. He stretches out a hand, and grabs the land itself, holding it up, the flat sand transformed into a tablet of stone.

Yes. It is all there. It had hurt the Gudites for a long time, that there were so few scholars among them, exiled to these barbarian lands. But this... this ancient stone. It would be the foundation of a new kind of scholarship, a tradition of their own.



Gains: 1 t.eco, 2 t.art, 3 t.inv
Losses: 1 permanent inv
Special Reward: Artefact: Ar-Rashada

Ar-Rashada
The Ar-Rashada is a series of tablets, inscribed with hieroglyphs so ancient that only a few scholars can still read them. They are said to percede humanity, to be words of the cthonic deities who shaped the world, and then went to sleep deep beneath it.
Whatever the truth, whether they truly contain the secrets of the gods, or just the magical writings of some forgotten civilization, they contain powerful geomantic rituals. By performing the same steps of a magical ritual or artifice simultaneously in several locations, one can induce resonance through the Earth, which massively amplifies the effects. The only problem is that the ritual nodes have to distributed far apart, for the effect to work...

The holder of Ar-Rashada gains 1 t.artifice at the beginning of each turn per ward in which they hold a district. (I.e. 1 for holding one district, 2 for holding a district each in two different wards, and so on.)

Legio XXIIX Cerberus [8]

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Portal (5-16) successfully created.

The Witch-Doctors [2]

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The spirit world, today, is perfectly calm. Green water, mirror-flat, perfect azure, cloudless sky. Stalks of bamboo stand, perfectly straight like columns, between the sky and the water. Nothing moves, not a drop of water, not a wave, not a fish. It is perfect serenity. No one here, to great the Knight. No one here, to take the votive offerings.
Hours pass, and nothing happens, as the Knight makes his way through the bamboo. This is not a place for a warrior. He bellows challenges, and no one answers. He slashes out at the bamboo, and it falls silently over into the water, casting perfect circular waves, that vanish again.
Finally, at the end of his patience, the Knight takes the offerings to the spirits of this place, and throws them into the water. Some smash, on impact, expensive essences spilling out. With a quick strain of effort, he grabs the air, and the water, and the bamboo, and takes some of the magic of this place, so at least, he will not return with empty hands.



Gains: 2 t.eco, 2 t.art
Losses: 1 permanent artifice
Progress: 5/10

Golden Guard [6]

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The spirit world is a sideshow, and everyone of the great alchemists knows it. They barely achieve more than tearing a brief window into the spirit world, to study what awaits them there. It is a beach, colossal waves crashing on the shore. It does not, they think, look extraordinarily dangerous. Some searching of the sand reveals at least one tiny gift: a perfect pearl, almost the size of a fist, pulsing with gentle magical essence.

Gain: 1 t.art
Losses: None
Progress: 2/10

The Heron and the Hippo [4]

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Minoo's shamans begin to open portals, plotting out promising routes, evalulating traps and dangers. They find two that are promising: a set of gates that reveal a tunnel, leading deep into the underworld, and what seems to be a labyrinth of twisting, changing, mirrors, casting a million confusing reflections.

After some scouting in both directions, it is decided that the mirrors are too treacherous for now, though one sorcerer brings back a large silver mirror pane that should sell for a pretty amount of money. The expedition is assembled, and begins to descend past the gates, into the Underworld.


The expedition winds its way down, into the Earth, deeper and deeper. What starts as claustrophobic earthen tunnels soon becomes stone, then cyclopean obsidian hallways. More and more, the hallways become crowded: pale shapes, only vaguely humanoid, join the march, first dozens, then hundreds and thousands. As they walk, they scatter behind them the refuse of their lives, grave goods and votives. The dead don't need treasures, but the expedition greedily snatches them up. There is one item, especially, that gains their attention: a tiny hammer, made entirely of silver, that hums with magical energies.

The Hall of Judgement is impossibly huge, containing seemingly millions of spirits. The judge looms large over all, clad in black and gold, masked face impassive, the implements of his office raised in one hand. Even he is dwarfed by the gates behind him, monstrous monoliths of iron that seem to span from horizon to horizon.
The judge’s gaze wanders slowly over the crowd as his mask turns, and one by one, the countless ghosts begin moving towards the gates, or simply vanish. Then, after what seem hours, his gaze falls on the expedition.
“Mortals”, he speaks, with a voice like bells the size of worlds. “We know the time has come again. When the Mandate falls, it is the time for truly great souls to arise. Some of them will die, and pass in my domain. Tradition dictates that there must be advocates for them. Mortals, who speak in their defence, or accuse them.
You are not the mortals I would have chosen. I would appreciate principled men, not mercenaries. But then, perhaps only flawed mortals can understand all the facets of a mortal life, and I must work with the tools Fate has given me. Would you take this burden on you?"

Before more than a few words can be spoken, to agree or disagree, an unearthly cold grasps Minoo's heart. She has spent too long, here, past the gates of death and her spirit is violently torn back to the living world. Gasping and weak, she lies on the floor, shaking with a cold that will not leave her.

Gain:2 t.eco, 3 t.art, 1 t.inv. Minor Artefact (Forgemaster's Hammer): +1 Art*
Lose: 1 permanent inv. Minoo is injured and may not take any actions next turn.
Special: Minoo gains 9 bonus XP from her adventures.
Pact Offered: Lagamal, Judge of the Underworld
Progress: 3/10

*Minor artefacts are equipment that can be given to a VIP and give them a +1 bonus to a certain stat. In this case, +1 Art.

Spoiler: Lagamal, Judge of the Underworld

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Legend: Lagamal is the impartial judge of the dead. Though all known he can not be swayed or bribed, offerings are still made in his name to the dead, for the sake of propriety, and in the hope that the dying can take them with them. He has an order of funerary priests, who take care of burials and exorcisms.

Offering: you must pronounce judgement on every VIP who died (see below). If you don’t, the pact is broken. Additionally, the judge demands that you help giving proper burials to the city’s poor, costing you one t.eco every turn.
Blessing: The Judge offers you the blessing of the Last Moment and a word in the Final Judgement. Whenever a VIP is successfully assassinated or dies in any other way, you are immediately told all the facts of their recent life. Specifically, you are told all actions the VIP took part in and their results and are given a copy of each PM the VIP was used to send or receive. After that, you must Judge the VIP: you may either grant them Eternal Rest, which gives the faction the VIP belonged to a number of t.morale points equal to twice the VIP’s tier, or you may Exile them from the underworld, which makes them return as a ghost to haunt their faction. This costs the faction one point of t.mor each turn per tier of the VIP, until they exorcize the ghost by spending one t.inv per tier of the VIP at midturn.
All judgements must be made in a public message.

The Gudite Warcamps are preparing their troops. Soon, they will march into the university ward.

EOTs are due Saturday 20th of August, at Midnight (American Time)/Sunday the 21st in the Morning (European Time)

[Let'sGetKraken]

The Bloodsworn Shaitan

Spoiler: Midturn: GM Only

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Spoiler: For Eldan's eyes only, you'll see soon enough

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Mustering Forces to the Outworks.

Mustering Forces to Khudara.

4 Inv to create a portal from 36-20.

Tempted to spend 1 Art on the Securing the Countryside Expedition just to rub it in Cultist's face when he doesn't contribute anything... but no. Fluff prevails.

[Eldan]

The Weaver

Nasira hummed to herself, as she began to string her warp. This new silk was amazing. Undyed and raw, yet a deep, glossy black in color. No one quite knew where it had come from, and even the weaver's guild was only able to buy a dozen skeins of it. She was itching to use it, knew exactly what she was going to do, but guild law dictated that any new skein had to be used to weave a wyrd, first. So in it went, white on the warp, black on the weft. She snickered to herself. The future was very black and white.
"A-hem"
A stick slammed on the ground to accentuate the pointed cough, and Nasira nearly jumped out of her chair. Nearly tore the irreplaceable thread. Old Gökse was, as always, standing right behind her shoulder.
"Is fate amusing, threader?"
"No, Mother Weavress." She looked down.
The old woman nodded, staring off somewhere over Nasira's shoulder.
"When you are ready, threader."
"Yes, Mother Weavress."

She began tapping, shuttling. Four times, then pause. "Frayed, Mother Weavress, second by fifth. Uhm, it's... beige on the inside." Tap, shuttle, tap, shuttle, tap, shuttle, tap, shuttle.
"Torn, Mother Weavress, sixth by fifth and eight by fifth."
"Tsk", the old woman said. "Heavyhanded, that."
Tap, shuttle, tap, shuttle, tap shuttle, tap shuttle.
"Missed the warp, Mother Weavress, ninth by second."
Gökse nodded.
"Tie it there, child, and cut it. They won't tell us any more."
Nasira did so. The wyrd was barely half a finger wide, the silk was so fine. "What does it say, Mother Weavress?"
"You know I can't tell you that, yet. Hmm."
Nasira looked down, with tears almost in her eyes. A minute passed, as the old woman fingered the threads.
"No need to despair yet, child. Yes, we are surrounded, but they say we have another month, before we must choose. And they might have left us a way out."
She dropped the threads on a table, slammed her stick down again.
"Very well. Burn the black silk. We shan't use it."
"But... it went for eight and eleven!"
"Burn it. It's from the otherworld. And it's dead now. Devoured. Nothing good can come from using it."
Nasira nodded, touching the silk only gingerly now.
"Then, send out runners. I'll need Suhail, from the Righting Loom. And... who bought that wool shipment from the golden isle last week?"
"Luciana Mother Weavress."
"Hrm. No, she's right-handed. Tell Sarifal to cast lots and send me a random apprentice, then. And Caracal, get him too. Then I'm going to need jute. A lot of it, the coarsest you can find. And oxblood. And the masks. This will not be pleasant."

Midturn 1 Addendum:

Bloodsworn Shaitan [7]

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Portal successfully opened from 36 to 20.

The Shaitan are marching for Khudara and the Outworks.

[3SecondCultist]

Spiritual - Informed - Heroic

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Messages at Morale 7

Spoiler: To the Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh

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To Cousin Arsat,

Your agreement in the matter has been made known to all of the Orders currently residing in Ardakand. After a conclave, we have all convened and agreed that moving forward with mutual growth is in all of our interests. The Slayers and the Gardeners would make fast friends, and perhaps more in time. As you have deftly said, this city is sick and rotting. All we wish is to plunge our knives into that disease and carve it out.

This brings us to the matter of the Bloodsworn Shaitan. The Slayers have been monitoring them closely since they settled in Tarbent, and are greatly concerned about their boldness. On calm nights, we can hear the screams of agony and smell the burning flesh from across the canal. The people of our Ward are frightened, and surely they are not the only ones. The other Confessors and I have concluded after some deliberation that they are likely the chief calamity and greatest evil to face this city. We plan to exterminate them.

Would you aid us in such an endeavor? This will take time - several months, at least - and cannot be done properly without friends. We know that they have reached out to you. If you seek to help, feel free to accept their aid but give them nothing but empty promises. Falsehood may not be in your nature, but rest assured: any means bared against those who would Defy Death is always Justified by its own Ends.

May your gardens flourish,

Slayer-Confessor Kantus, Sancta Ichoria

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm glad you agree that our cooperation is in our best interest. Please don't give the Shaitan stat points. I know you're smarter than that.

Spoiler: To the Temple of the Sky

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To Flamen Caelestis,

Your reasoning is as astute as your piety. The rules of law and order, while not always unnatural to mankind, are of a higher power and purpose. The Orders of the Silent Saints - in particular my own - believe strongly in the strength of mortals to choose their own fate, while still recognizing the absolute necessity of binding free will to the strengths of orderly government. Men should be made to learn humility, faith, and reason in the bedrock of common laws. Why should the celestial bureaucracy be any different?

Our Orders are interested in providing the aid you have requested, but unfortunately, our efforts are tied up in dealing with the famine and expunging the most overt threats to Ardakand. Charlatans, rogue spirits, and avatars of destruction and despair are running rampant across our most sacred city, a prospect that our believers find distressing. Surely you share our rancor of those such as the Bloodsworn Shaitan? They are perhaps the purest form of evil our Slayers have encountered in years.

There can be no law, if those that are bending the knee are being slaughtered by those whose time has passed. Whenever possible, one should always strive to Deny the Deathless.

May you find succor in prayer,

Slayer-Confessor Vorin, Sancta Exspira

Spoiler: OOC

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I'd love to help them, but don't have the stat points right now. Would they be open to lending me some stat points over the upcoming few turns to help deal with the Shaitan, provided I settle near adjacent to them for trade?

Spoiler: To Legio XXIIX Cerberus

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To Legate Orbei,

The candor of your reply is appreciated in these dark times. Another member of my church has already sent out word to the more eminently reasonable organizations in Ardakand, with several promises and words of wisdom. I will allow him the honor of giving pleasantries.

After more consideration, we agree that the Shaitan are the greatest danger facing the city. Our Slayers will be working with the Gardeners in the coming months to eradicate them - can we count on your aid? Feeding the people comes first of course, but we will be striking out at them soon.

May you walk in the light,

Slayer-Confessor Jurall, Sancta Finalis

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm willing to throw into this event (see below), but I'm pretty afraid that it won't be worth our giving up territory claims on Turn 1 while the Shaitan expand fully. We're going to have to coordinate some plans to deal with them soon.

Spoiler: To the Gudite Warcamp, Legio XXIIX Cerberus, Hemminghock Family Company, Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh, the Heron and the Hippo, and Legio Aquila

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To our friends throughout Ardakand,

It is a grim day that we face. Even while some prepare for the games, the failing harvest will surely take its toll on the civilians of Ardakand, many of whom have already suffered through the last bleak winter. Our Orders give thanks to Legio Cerberus for bringing the matter to our attention and Legio Aquila for organizing the efforts of feeding the hungry. Without our brave soldiers, we would not be in a position to save Ardakand from this plight. Salutem imperator!

The informants and Slayers of our respective Orders have been watching the bevy of commitments, promises, vows, and assorted pacts all across the city. We will make no secret of it, nor will we hoard valuable information that could prove damaging to the civil balance upon which we all now rest. Attached to this missive are the administrative and military costs that the Orders of the Silent Saints will be pledging to help the common cause of seeing our people fed. The other Confessors and I only hope that you will all be equally transparent in your dealings.

May you find virtue in all things,

Slayer-Confessor Vorin, Sancta Exspira

Spoiler: OOC

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While the opportunity cost of this event on the first turn of the game (thanks, Eldan ) really can't be overstated, the Slayers trust that each of your factions will do the right thing and step up to stop this event from literally starving us all. I am watching each and every IC message this turn, and am volunteering to make a list of the pledges of stat points promised. I won't share the list publicly if folks don't want me to, but I'm happy to tell you all that I am pledging 5 Mil this turn towards the event (so basically costing myself 1 full territory's worth of expansion).

In the interest of fairness, I hope that each of the player factions commits at least 5 points of Mil or Eco. That should get us to 30 without any issues, and provide an equal payout on Turn 4 when the actual event pays us in t. Eco. It's better than the inevitable global stat loss or other penalty we get for failing, even if we are conceding a dramatic lead to the Shaitan.

[Eldan]

The Slayers of the Silent Saints

From the Temple of the Sky [10]

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Honored Slayer Confessor,

We appreciate what you are doing, of course, but you must realize that what you are proposing is fighting the symptoms, not the cause of the disease: important to keep the patient alive until more final measures can be taken, but ultimately not the cure.

Why are the Shaitan here? They respond to despair and catastrophe. And what brings despair? Bad governance, the fall of the state, imbalance. The people despair because their needs are not met. What brings catastrophe? The will of Heaven, showing its displeasure at the same imbalance and bad governance.

By restoring balance, bringing order and restructuring society, we institute the will of Heaven. An ordered society will overcome war, famine and despair, a placated heaven will remove catastrophe. And without those, no Shaitan, no rogue spirits, no false gods or bandits.

While we cure the city and the Empire, you will keep it alive, by fighting these infections. And we will honour you for it, but we will each need all our resources to make it happen.

The Flamen Caelestis

[Eldan]

Legio Minotaurus to the Legio Cerberus [6]

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Hail, Legate

A very intriguing offer, and one that I think would benefit us both. We will gladly accept.

The Dominus Fabricator

[neriractor]

Gudite Warcamp

Festivities were past, and the warcamp settled into the city as if it was born there, which is to say, as a somber realm constantly anxious about dropping shoes. The laughing priests of snarling masks seemingly all the more ready to disturb Gudite peace over that of others, howling where the lights were poorly lit.

In a modest house of ancient build, the energy was one of… well, it existed, cause of or caused by strewn papers, runes, and magical trinkets with a set of tablets at the center and a lithe mage moving from one to the other, all the while setting the expectation of a coming Eureka.

But the exclamation took its time, and a man in armor walked inside before it, a censer was hanged by the door with a sigh universally recognized for its meaning of “day done”. Some of the relaxation slipped out as he saw the… decoration (and the decorator) on his floor.

He took the armor off to reveal auster robes underneath and sat cross legged in one of the endangered empty spaces in the floor. Calling out to the “guest”

-I told you not to touch them without me here.

-My bad, though you really shouldn’t have let me see them then.

The priest almost granted the point, they may still be dangerous without contact, after all. But it was clear the engineer, not yet lifting her eyes from the notes enough to make eye contact, meant it to discourage temptation. This softened his brow, the gods did appreciate an honest flock… some did anyway.

The pair continued on their own worlds, Solyom meditated, with any chance of Nirvana (were there such a thing in such tumultuous times) chased away by casual comments from Delilah, who queried about the tablets and at times rambled theories about their function, currently they caused targeted earthquakes, though she couldn’t yet tell if they were centered on the caster or on premade nodes.

Solyom straddled the line, managing to take and chip in to the conversation while treating it like background noise for his own thoughts. That is until an unusual question

-All well? you seem down.

A single inquisitive eye opened to reveal both eyes looking back at him, with nary an attempt to divert themselves to the arcane symbols on the floor, mildly unsettling.

-It's been a few hard days since we got those.

-Huh, what happened?

Solyom was taken aback, a hint of anger slipped in, there were pyres with no bodies, sure they may not be dead, but lost in the other they may as well be…

-You don’t know?

He caught some fidgeting, but her eyes remained unmoved from him.

-I know some six people Sol, and Daghir is two of them - a small pause, and then a hand raised above her head as if to explain.

You didn’t know them so it’s fine, then? came the initial idea, but he had never been so careless, there was thought, even if his stare turned harsh while it happened, and the seconds passed and silence reigned.

-Sol? - Solyom, caught a moving eye, almost slipping to the nearby mess, he caught again the fidgeting, and how they were there before his wrong conclusions, and the eyes that remained fixed on him, if slightly more worried. He thought of who they were, that his job was to know them, and he almost failed right there, then thanked no one in particular that she too was trying. A sigh followed and when his voice came again it was calm, truly.

-Some of ours are gone, sorry I didn’t share it when we spoke of the tablets.

Delilah seemed still worried, a tinge of sadness mixed in, he stood up and broke any silence before it had time to settle, or she had time to break it herself, walking towards a pair of shelves lined up behind him.

-Have you eaten?

Delilah’s worried expression turned into an apologetic smile.

-Haven’t had the time really - Solyom stared with the feigned disappointment of someone who hears that often enough.

- I’ll make you something, can’t shake the earth dead.

Delilah had turned back to the papers when Solyom went again, but looked up again, pleasantly surprised by the subtle prodding and eager to encourage it.

-Funny you say that, you see, in the 18th year of Lacast’s reign, 625 of the grand calendar or 312th spring of the Sarts, contact was made with a tribe of myconids deep within the cold call mountains…

The pair continued to talk, the exciting idiosyncrasies of myconid geomancy interjected by a fine meal and other subjects, and at some point an Eureka.

Mor: 4
Reputation: Martial - Spiritual - Barbaric

Spoiler: The Golden Guards

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The secondary force is meant to support Aquila's, while making sure that any tampering on the individual forces is unable to disturb the flow of grain. As we would be working together until the point of return, no one's ability to trounce bandits and develop land should be affected.

The book is much appreciated, master Chemosh.

A hint of inspiration,
Delilah Fairway.

[OOC: Just in case, this is essentially a parallel expedition to theirs, according to Eldan they will work together so the overall goal is reached together, but in case someone conquers Aquila/attempts to steal the coming Grain/forcibly changes one of their traits our group gets to not have to deal with that.

As for mechanics, you just see what you want to add (art and mil are preferable) and put in your EoT "sending this with the Gudite grain expedition"]

Spoiler: Slayers of the silent saints

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Hail, saints to be.

You can rest assured that our public call was true.

Now, as you are so well informed, surely you know of the secondary force we gather, and as surely the legions will march with enough strength for their own column, we would like to offer you a place within our own, if you would have it.

Ase's Joy,
-Daghir, The Wolf.

[A_Dinosaur]

Legio XXIIX Cerberus

Valour

The Bankhar Akita is a working dog originating from Bankhar province in the northern Empire, and is a distinct branch of the Bankhar Shepherd breed. Believed to have been first officially named by Imperial Legate Khaler during the Second Restoration period. Originally created by breeding the Bankhar shepard with the boar hunting Ardakand Pitbull and the Imperial Palace Dog. the Bankhar Akita, or simply Akita, has a bristly double coat of the Imperial Palace dog, but the burly stature and protective nature of the Shepherd and Pitbull. Standing between twenty eight and thirty one inches* and weighing between six score and seven score pounds, the Akita comes in a variety of colours, though most commonly liver and brown with a lighter belly and legs, they live between ten and thirteen years on average. They have a heavy bone structure and a large head, with an alert expression that is a hallmark of the Bankhar shepard. Quiet and fastidious dogs, they are often used in military or suppression action, most famously the XXIIX Legio Cerberus has an official ranking system for serving Akitas, and their cohorts are lead by Houndcrests, rather than the traditional Decanus.

Their service as military dogs mean that underneath their quiet nature is a ferocity that is not for general hunting purposes, and certainly not to be kept as household pets. Typically bonding with a larger pack, these dogs have a powerful instinct to protect their bondmates, and are quick to quiet and efficient violence if their pack is threatened.

*Notable exception is the Khan mutation, which is present in roughly 2% of litters, these Akitas will grow significantly larger than their kin, with examples rivaling Imperial horses in size and weight. This mutation has yet to be isolated and bred consistently from the main stock, and all Khan mutations are infertile.

Temperance

Morale 8
Imperial, Heroic, Hierarchical

Players

the Gudite Warcamp, Slayers of the Silent Saints, Hemminghock Family Company, Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh, the Heron and the Hippo, and Legio Aquila

Spoiler

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Hail Friends in Ardakand,

The Legio Cerberus will be conducting a joint operation with Minotaurus under the XXIIX banner. We will be laying down [9 mil] to root out the banditry and villainy gripping the countryside. Our legions will not stand by again while the people suffer.

Imperial Salutations,
Legate Orbei

NPCs

Legio Minotaurus

Spoiler

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Then we have a deal Forgemaster, the Cerberus banner will ride with the brilliant machinations of Minotaurus along side. Expect the first shipments of my artifice to arrive [EoT 2].

Imperial Salutations,
Legate Orbei

[St. Justicar]

Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh

Inhuman - Spiritual – Heroic

Morale 7

Spoiler: the Gudite Warcamp, Legio XXIIX Cerberus, Hemminghock Family Company, Silent Slayers,, the Heron and the Hippo, and Legio Aquila

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We stand by our words, and our pledge of [7 Eco] to prevent catastrophe. If the abyss still beckons another [5 Art] might be found as well.

[OOC: Though that totally depends on whether this is a valid target for my ART VIP’s passive]

Spoiler: Silent Slayers

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OOC: Not particularly intending to if I can avoid it, but in the meantime I’d prefer to present as low-profile a target to the horde of angry ghosts as possible

Spoiler: Gudite Warcamp

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OOC: With the appeal to please up your morale by EOT 3 to not be quite so easy to steal from? And formally noting that if you run off with the spoils it will of course mean undying enmity until the end of days?

Sure, lets go for it.

[ArcaneStomper]

Spoiler: The Gudite Warcamp, Legio XXIIX Cerberus, Hemminghock Family Company, Silent Slayers, the Garden, and Legio Aquila

Show

We can contribute [3 Eco, 2 Mil] to the effort.

[3SecondCultist]

Spiritual - Informed - Heroic

---

Messages at Morale 7

Spoiler: To All but the Bloodsworn Shaitan

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Greetings again, friends,

The tidings and replies we have received from some of you bring heart; the Gardeners and the Cerberi in particular are quite willing to do their part to stave off this looming disaster. By the time you have received this, our own soldiers will be marshaled to help with the recovery effort. You should all know that we have transcribed this message and sent copies to public criers throughout Ardakand, so as to maximize the chances of our finding like-minded patrons. Surely they will see the benefit of keeping the innocents of this city from literally starving in the streets, and the dangers of being the only ones perceived not to care for the well-being of the citizenry.

The window for your aid is closing - it may already be closed. But if you have anything, anything at all to spare, the good people of Ardakand need your aid. It is quite simple. The Legions are not asking for much more, merely a few additional hands to ensure that the food gets to the right place.

Additionally, our Orders have been monitoring the communications of several of those involved in the discussions of this calamity. We are quite disappointed in the Gudite Warbands, who have not only declined to help, but appear to be conspiring to launch their own expeditions to 'make safe' the grain in their own warehouses. To say that our Slayers are disappointed is an understatement.

May you all pray for absolution,

Slayer-Confessor Vorin, Sancta Exspira

Spoiler: OOC

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Okay, so it looks like if everyone actually does what they say they will do (as promised, I won't go into individual pledges), we will be at 26 stat points, just 4 shy of the target. We need 4 more Mil ideally in the pot to succeed here at the bare minimum. Is Legio Minotaurus pitching into this as well? If so, how much? I would like assurances that we're not all wasting our stat points on Turn 1.

Also, I am going to shine a light on the fact that the Gudite Warcamp is not only not helping, but launching their own side project to swipe the grain out from under those who are honestly trying to claim it. That is not cool with the Saints, so they're putting the Gudite on blast here as a warning. Commit your stats to this, please, or at least drop the notion of launching your own project to steal this one out of contrariness.

Nobody wants to lose stats - which will assuredly happen if this event fails. Hemminghock, Witch Doctors, Clan Fuxi, Golden Guard; I see you all on the sidelines, and I'm calling you out too. Help us from literally starving Ardakand on the first turn of the game, okay? You could all pitch in 1-2 Mil as a safeguard, to make sure the event passes.

[Feathersnow]

The Witch-Doctors
Mercenary * Mercantile * Spiritual

The Witch-Doctors are welcomed as the liberators of region 2 after everyone there has the same horrifying dream of the consequences of something different happening...

Back at their base, the Loa use the resources they did not spend on charity to begin reinforcing their arms and leaders.

Spoiler: End of Turn

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VIP ACTION (the Baron)- reduce cost to Raise Mil to 2 Mil

Regular actions:

2 Mil spent to increase Mil by 1

8 Inv Spent to Annex region 2 without attrition

2 Mor, 2 Esp banked towards recruiting a Mor VIP: The Trickster

1 Art, 1 Econ spent to increase the XP of The Knight

Current VIP XP

The Baron (level 3)
3/20 (no stats spent)

The Knight (level 3)
5/20 (2 off-stats spent)

The Trickster (level 0)
4/10 (2 off, two Mor spent)

Current stats:

ECON 8

INV 8

MIL 3

ESP 2

MOR 2

ART 1

Other:
2 t.eco, 2 t.art

[Writtensanity]

Spoiler: To the Silent Saints and everyone they messaged, MOR 5

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We have contributed 4 ART and 1 MIL as our total, we are unable to add more without completely compromising our efforts in Ardakand or our own defensive lines.

[A_Dinosaur]

Legio XXIIX Cerberus

Morale 8
Imperial, Heroic, Hierarchical

Players

Everyone but the Bloodsworn Shaitan

Spoiler

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Good People of Ardakand,

By my quartermasters count we have the following pledged to ensure the grain is harvested on time and in good order:
Military:
[9 mil] Legio (Cerberus and Minotarus) contributions riding under the Cerberus Banner
[5 mi] from the Slayers of the Silent Saints
[2 mil] from the Heron and Hippo
[1 mil] from the Hemminghock Company

Economy:
[7 eco] from the Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh
[3 eco] from the Heron and Hippo

Artifice:
[4 art] from the Hemminghock Company

The Slayers have had a better eye on the goings on than my Cohorts, whose contributions are we missing, and what evidence do you have to back your claims against the Gudite Warcamp?

Imperial Salutations,
Legate Orbei

[neriractor]

Gudite Warcamp

Mor:4
Rep Barbaric-Spiritual-Martial

Spoiler: Everyone the Silent Sainst messaged and the silent saints

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Pray tell, dead seekers what makes our warehouses so much worse than that of the legions?

If it was anyone but you I may have blamed naivete in demanding exact numbers, when it is imperative that we all send more than what is needed. But being who you are, at least I know who will be to blame if our efforts to suppose Aquila's are undermined.

We will send more than you, as we were always going to and which should surprise no one. If you demand exact numbers come and get them.

Gulldr's humility,
Daghir, The wolf.

Spoiler: OOC

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I won't say by how much my contribution (might) breaks the cap in case anyone wants to take the chance to drop their commitment/screw us (like everytime a disaster's cap is broken, ever). Also, The Gudites are not helping despite going through the effort of calling others to help under them- source: trust me. Come on Cultist, you can do better bait than this

Gulldr (or at least the version the Gudite's worship) is the least Humble member of the pantheon by the way, just to give some context to that particular wish.

Spoiler: Gardeners of the immortal flesh

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OOC: Will do. Real sorry I'm antagonizing one of two esp factions, but they started it.

[Nemesis67]

Carnival of Chains
Defensive Espionage: 8

Artistic, Criminal, Egalitarian

Everyone but Bloodsworn Shaitans (8)

Spoiler

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The Carnival will contribute our [5 Mil] to the endeavor, though alongside the Gudites' warband. We do not trust the Legion that allowed Ardakand's villages to be put to the torch to now hold the spoils from reclaiming them.

Spoiler: OOC

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My understanding is that these expeditions are both counting towards the cap, unless either side tries to directly fight the other.

Spoiler: End of Turn (GM)

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The Carnival of Chains

Stats
5 Mil
8 Esp
1 Eco
8 Mor
1 Art
1 Inv

VIPs
The Helm [Esp 2] - Once simply a lawyer and rather tame political dissident, the Helm became radicalized when their entire city was put to the torch for attempting to enforce contractual agreements on the supply of grain to the local Legate. Now ringmaster and main orator of the Carnival, the Helm knows how to stoke the flames of rebellion, and has won over many to the Chained's cause.

Albatross [Esp 2] - The only reason the Carnival has survived for so long has been the tradecraft and cunning of Albatross. Supplies purchased through cutouts and falling off the back of trucks, travel through smuggler's ways while the local Imperials were conveniently distracted with a scandal or riot, tips whispered in seedy back alley taverns just before the hounds close in... The Chained have, so far, always been at least a step ahead of the agents of the Empire.

Shackle [Esp 2] - A mage and binder, Shackle holds an arsenal of pacts with spirits of light, Shadow, and flame. She is the one with a flair for the dramatic and poetic, calling on her magicks to make the Chained's spectacles unforgettable.

LTPs
[The Chains That Bind] - The Carnival's performances spark hope in the oppressed and terror in the oppressors. <Gain 1 t. Esp per stat destroyed by Esp Stat Attacks involving the Carnival of Chains>

Actions
5 Military contributed to Gudite's expedition. Legitimately there to secure the city’s food supply. Don’t go along with anything else, though if the Gudites are attacked unprovoked by any faction, assist them as best we can.

7 Espionage expand to (45). Torment the priests into submitting to the Carnival by disrupting their rituals. Give readings from heretical writings by unorthodox priests while the Elder Council tend to their gardens, transplant things between different gardens and add a scattering of wild seeds, trim topiary into lewd forms…

8 Morale expand to (47). The former legionaries among the Carnival appeal to the Immortals of the Wolfshead, asking them to join the ranks of the Chained. The Empire is no more, and those holding on to claims of authority in its name are not deserving of the label Legion. Why did the Aquila not stop the Minotaurs from deserting and seizing the Artefactory from its legal owners? Why have they hid behind the city walls and allowed villages to be razed? Why do they now need charity from the other factions of Ardakand to clean up their mistakes?

1 Espionage, 1 Economy, 1 Artifice, and 1 Invocation contribute to an LTP. I want to make a guillotine that I feed a captured VIP to, and a VIP of mine gains their XP. Something that is basically one of the Carnival's public executions, so it would require a captured VIP, held for a turn after being abducted.

Albatross [Esp 2] joins the Physical games, engaging in a riding contest. They're (implicitly) former Imperial Intelligence, so apparently they should be pretty good at it.

The Helm [Esp 2] joins the Rhetoric games, castigating the Aquila and Minotaurus for their failures as Legions. (same argument as to the Wolfshead)

Shackle [Esp 2] joins the Art games, engaging in interpretive dance. She dons the red robes and painted fox mask of Vulpa’s priestesses, whirling a ribbon of red and a ribbon of black in opposing hands, skipping across a rough map of the Empire etched into the sand of the colosseum. Through her magicks, the ribbons become ones of flame and shadow, and multiple copies of her spin off, twirling across the map and setting bonfires or crawling miasmas of darkness to various towns, cities, and provinces. At the end, all of her echoes merge back to one, spinning atop Ardakand's spot on the map, as an inferno engulfs her and the city. When the fires die down, the mage is gone, and the fires of the rest of the Empire slowly burn out.

[Hamste]

Golden Guard

Spoiler: To All including the Bloodsworn Shaitan

Show

It sounds like we have more than enough people and more will only drive down the profits for all of us.

That being said, remember, if you need us for mercenary work we are usually open for a reasonable price!

[Feathersnow]

To: Everyone

Regarding: Legio XXII Cerebrus

The 22nd Legion came to us, as many do with a problem. Like almost everyone, they came away with the promise their need would be met.

Instead of acting with gratitude, which might be expected, or indifference which might be overlooked, they reacted with fear and scorn.

They sought weaker vessels to meet their request, and publicly denied ever asking us for help, let alone our generous blanket guarantee to underwrite the entire harvest if those who, unlike us, have strong militaries, might be found to protect the farmers.
We bear no animosity to those who contributed funds under the perfidous misapprehension they were needed. They are victims as much as we. And we salute the soldiers keeping watch as the harvests are gathered.

But, for the 22nd Legion, know they are not to be trusted

[Eldan]

Turn 2: Coagulation


Catastrophe has come to our once I city and the demons are loose. I remember the venerable triumphal road, as it stood in my childhood. Ivy-crowned stood the statues of great conquerors, from gate to gate, the tablets of their deeds. They are all cast down and shattered, and the annointers who used to walk between them flayed alive. On the night of the new moon, high tide and earthquakes swept over the warehouse district, taking the brave Golden Guard by surprise. Now only dead things remain in the water. In the Hive, for a moment, there was hope, as shining hooded figures descended to destroy those criminals which had plagued the district, but that hope was soon extinguished as we witnessed the brutality of that vengeance, criminals impaled and crucified before both avengers and their newly-dead victims turned to slaughter the innocents. And not even all the goodwill in the world could save New Tarbent from the massacre.

The wanton destruction had one side-effect, however: it made most of the city look to join one power block or another for protection. Cases varied: there was political maneuvering and deftly negotiated alliances, there were simple arrangements for protection, and there was open street fighting and conquest.

Those who employed politics were not quiet about their arguments, either. The Rosegarden society has converted to the Mortalist faith and joined the Slayers of the Silent Saints, openly declaring that a noble society employing magic and spirits to cling to life and power is against the meritocracy that - naturally - would place them at the top.
On the Wolfshead, the veterans of the Immortals have declared that the legions they once commanded have abandoned their duties and gone against all that is right in the sight of gods and men when they broke the oldest taboo every soldier knows and entered the city. They are part of the Carneval of Chains now, ready to lend a thousand yeary of collected command experience to the cause of justice.
Of those same legions, the Cerberus has made their intentions clear by taking the Cavalry school and the imperial intelligence corps under their wing and expanding their patrol routes to the forum, where advocates for the honourable cause of the 28th legion now number half hte speakers.

Others have expanded in much simpler ways: the Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh have expanded to cover most of a ward, now, covering it in refugee housing. Most interestingly is how they have tamed the Everstorm, simply smothering its magical energies under waves of custom-grown flesh and, in the end, binding the lighting itself in strange, pulsating plant pods. The Golden Guard, where they have not been defeated by hungry ghosts have offered their protection services quite forcefully. Even the university is not exempt, as the ever-paranoid magister of chains, apparently fearing a fatal interruption to his work binding greater demons, has accepted Clan Fuxi’s protection, while the library and the Master Geomancer have joined the Gudites.

In the pastures, the newly joined forces of Immortals and the Carnival have begun to evict any priests unwilling to join them, beginning with mean-spirited pranks, and moving on to outright, demonstrative heresy, until the grumbling aging priests let them have the district. Even the Gardeners have proven their mettle: when negotiations with the Boatsmen over discounted fairs for refugeesturned sour and - or so at least some eye witnesses claim - Cousin Rao was clubbed down in the street, swarms of rats fell over the entire district, devouring half the guild until the few survivors begged for mercy and joined up. The 28th Legion, meanwhile, took the Outlander’s Market and Peacock’s Gate with little resistance, loudly proclaiming the unworthiness of the Imperial Heralds and that soon, discipline would be restored by any means necessary.

And in the Palace, things have gone in entirely new and interesting directions: Hormoz, the colossal foreign mercenary known as the Hippo, has by all accounts simply pushed his way through most of the palace in person, manhandling all the protesting Princelings of the Blood, making some of them join his warband and ejecting others, often through a window and into the canals. He currently has taken up residence in the Hall of Justice, where he proclaims that soon, there will be a new Judge in town. So far, no one is quite sure what he means.

One case stood out even amongst the general mayhem: it was just after dawn, when commuters found a beheaded and impaled corpse laid out on a crossroad. It was burning with a pale, blue flame, though the flesh not yet consumed, and had been surrounded by intricate magic circles of salt and silver around the entire intersection. Only by his weapons was he recognized: the Knight’s chosen vessel. Days passed, until the Witch Doctors really began to worry: usually, the Loa would return from the spirit world in less than a week. But this time… he seemed to be lost for good.

Fun and Games
There is seemingly little interest in the games, as just about anyone of importance in the city seems to be more than busy with a thousand other things going on.

The most interesting and heavily contested field is in the arts. Soon, three favorites arise: Cousin Hylah of the Gardeners, Delilah Fairway of the Gudite Warcamps and Shackle of the Chained. Opinions are divided: while the Cousin has produced something that is undoubtedly fascinating technically - a dancing statue, made of flesh and blood and bone - the thing is aiso disgusting - rising from a small puddle of blood, seeming quite complete and even human. They dance, and as they do, their newborn flesh begins to break, collapsing under the dancer’s weight of splitting on the impact of some particular step or rupturing forth in tumors that look like outstretched arms each holding a flower, always precisely in time with the music. By the end of the song the dancer has entirely fallen apart, and tears open their own chest – from which crawls an exact copy of how they had looked unbroken and whole, landing with a piroette as their last iteration decomposes and vanishes into the puddle in moments, and bowing to the audience.
Fairway is well underway to be a favorite of the judges: she tells animal fables, accompanied by choreographed fireworks that form pictures. Exotic, but not too exotic. But as she stands before the judges to begin her final performance of the hen and the six worms, an eardrum-shattering burst of noise suddenly tears through the stadium and only a black cloud rises where Fairway’s assistants were. She can’t possibly win now, everyone agrees, while the debris is cleaned up and a few lightly singed assistants are carried away.
When Shackle performs, one outraged judge wants to disqualify them entirely for her “interpretive dance”. She dons the red robes and painted fox mask of Vulpa’s priestesses, whirling a ribbon of red and a ribbon of black in opposing hands, skipping across a rough map of the Empire etched into the sand of the colosseum. Through her magicks, the ribbons become ones of flame and shadow, and multiple copies of her spin off, twirling across the map and setting bonfires or crawling miasmas of darkness to various towns, cities, and provinces. At the end, all of her echoes merge back to one, spinning atop Ardakand's spot on the map, as an inferno engulfs her and the city. When the fires die down, the mage is gone, and the fires of the rest of the Empire slowly burn out.
How dare they. Ardakand is eternal as the gods. But two other judges begin to urgently whisper to each other, and there are more and more excited shouts and scattered applause from the restless crowd.
In the end, Shackle earns the laurels and the acclaim, once she can be found again. Cousin Hylah, more by default than by conviction of the judges, takes the second place and the humiliated Delilah is given third.

Sports is an entirely different matter again: here, dozens of different disciplines are judged separately, then added up according to an arcane points system. The early favourite is the Albatross, a mounted agent of the Carnival of Chains who competes on horseback and quickly takes the gallop race, the dressage, the target-lancing, horseback archery and the horseback obstacle course, in an unparalleled and masterful display.
But at the other end of the arena, the Wolf of the Gudites is a terrifying force, bullrushing her way through the competition. In the wrestling contest, her opponent merely screams and pulls his hands away as the Wolf’s skin grows burning hot and she contemptuously tosses him out of the ring with one hand. The boxing contest ends as a kick splits the arena in two and the opponent falls into a chasm. A javelin is unceremoniously thrown through the bullseye at double distance. The weightlift is turned into an utter farce as she picks up two of her opponents and their weights. This laurel, it turns out, is not even a contest.

The Rhetorical contest is the least exciting: only a few tired priests and well-known demagogues show up. Only two remarkable contenders make their names: a young lawyer, who systematically begins to lay out everything the government has done wrong in her eyes for the last 20 years, how Ardakand needs written down laws, not arbitrary judges and how there needs to be deep and all-encompassing reform stands against the Helm, another agent of the carnival, who uses the games as a platform for fiery populism: The Empire is no more, and those holding on to claims of authority in its name are not deserving of the label Legion. Why did the Aquila not stop the Minotaurs from deserting and seizing the Artefactory from its legal owners? Why have they hid behind the city walls and allowed villages to be razed? Why do they now need charity from the other factions of Ardakand to clean up their mistakes? In the end the crowd and judges quickly decide for polemics and emotional appeal over detailed planning and grievances and Helm takes a second laurel for the chained.

If it has a pulse – remove its skull![

The month’s omen was soon revealed to us, as a hot, broodingly humid spring broke. “The Sword”, came word from the Eye of Heaven, proclaiming an end to the last illusion of peace. The Raised Sword, proudly held aloft above an adoring crowd. Love for battle, it meant, or honour to the victorious warrior.
It was another three days until the meaning was clear. A caravan approached the city, a single red banner raised above white canvas. In single file, acolytes came through the gates, wearing white arming jackets and tall geta - platform sandals - to keep their stainless uniforms off the dirty streets. They held thin trumpets, which did not sound fanfares, but sounded like thin, wailing cries. He rode in their center. His armor porcelain-white, featureless, his helmet closed without even eyeholes, at his left, a shield, white with no emblem, at his right a sword, pearlescent and shimmering, with no sheath. We knew him from the legends.
The Knight Belligerent. Herald of slaughter, untouched by blood. Avatar of the Immaculate Queen.

Spoiler

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The Knight Belligerent is a mercenary, of an unusual sort. He will not fight for the highest pay, because he serves as the avatar of a terrible goddess and cares not for worldly possessions. Instead, he seeks out the most desperate to serve, because desperation is what feeds his mistress: every turn, he will join whichever faction is willing to pay the highest percentage of their total stat points (including temporary stats). He will not take or spend any payment: he will destroy it.

The Knight Belligerent is a level 2 military VIP, who can only be used for aggressive actions (stat attacks, invasions, annexations and some few special events.) He always deals one extra random stat damage to the recipient of his attacks. If used to annex a neutral district, he will cause such devastation that one less stat point is gained from the annexation.

Swords and Plowshares
If, in all the chaos, there was one success, it was the famine relief. It began when the Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh began restoring the city’s depleted reserves by shipping barge after barge of what seemed to be eels, freely handing them out to anyone requiring sustenance. Soon, they were followed by what could charitably be called “fertilizer”: stinking vats viscera and undefinable slime, ready to be moved into the countryside.

At the same time, the combined forces of Ardakand began restablishing control over the countryside. The effort was spearheaded by the aerial patrols of the Aquila’s rukh-eagles and the wardog centuries of the Cerberus, representing more than half the forces of either legion. With them were the heavy shock troops of the Minotaur and forces of the Slayers, the Hippo and House Hemminghock. There was much to do, but in short order, bandits were burnt out of abandoned villages or scattered, vengeful gods of agriculture tamed or sent back to the spirit world, monsters slain. When it seems they might get overwhelmed with the amount of work, it turns out there is also a more secretive, second expedition: the carnival of chains and the gudite warcamps have sent their own forces to clear an area of countryside, proclaiming it under their exclusive protection. At the very least, this decreases the amount of land the Legions need to patrol.
It takes weeks, but finally, the last slain riverwyrm is triumphally carried back to the city and everything within two day’s ride declared secure for resettlement.

This is where the Baron comes in: the reclusive Loa of economy and leadership quickly takes over the Caravanserai and turns it into the humming center of a colossal logistics effort, where bureaucrats and quartermasters from the entire city congregate. All available draft animals and guides pressed into service distributing building materials, seeds, fertilizer and settlers, until in record time, the fields are sprouting, promising the most exceptional harvest in centuries.

Spoiler

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The Witch Doctors: 10 Economy
The Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh: 7 Economy
The Heron and the Hippo: 2 Military, 3 Economy
The Slayers of the Silent Saints: 5 Military
Legio XXIIXX Cerberus: 9 Military
House Hemminghock: 1 Military, 4 Artifice

Total: 20 eco, 17 Mil, 4 art

Separate Expedition:
The Gudite Warcamps: 5 military, 1 economy, 1 artifice
The Carneval of Chains: 5 military

The Famine is averted!

Petrichor


But while patrolling, just at the edge of Ardakand’s newly settled farmland, a mounted patrol of the 28th makes a disturbing discovery: a mere three day’s ride away from the city wall, the landscape has turned black and transmogrified into a weird mass, reminiscent of roots or serpents of black rock. Between them, the ground has fallen away into deep, mist-filled chasms.

It takes several reports before the city’s sages, under leadership of the Gudite’s Grand Geomancer, come to a conclusion: there must have been a disruption in the land’s natural leylines, which has allowed what is known in the very oldest tomes of magic as a Chthonic Conjunction: the interrupted earth energy has pooled until the concentration of potential has ripped a rift into the spirit world. The intermingling of energies, it is theorized, has warped the landscape in strange ways, which will only get worse as natural life in the area mutates and increasingly more powerful spirits push their way through from the other side. The scholars agree: an expedition must be sent, the area secured and the rift sealed.

Spoiler

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An expedition must be sent to the rift to prevent dire catastrophe. For now, the rift is still relatively easy to seal, but if the attempt fails, the situation will only get worse every turn.
Securing the area around the rift requires an investment of 20 Military, Espionage or Artifice, while sealing the rift costs at least 10 Invocation or Artifice. This is hero’s work, and as such, all VIPs of the correct type will contribute twice their tier. Stats to secure the area must be sent at midturn, while the rift is sealed at EOT.

Rewards are uncertain: fighting through a series of monster-infested chasms will, at the very least, be a test for any hero’s mettle. Any VIP participating will earn considerable bonus XP. These areas are also very commonly home to exotic creatures and materials, which tend to be very valuable. All manner of treasure (temporary stats and minor artefacts) could be found here.

Sealing the rift, meanwhile, is something that hasn’t been done in centuries. The old tomes mention that the energies of the rift, once tamed, are incredibly valuable to mages (paying out in t.inv or t.art). There is also mention of something called a “Heart” or “Core” of the Conjuction: a priceless artifact that will go to whichever contributes the most to the sealing. Surely, no one would be so callous as to betray their fellow selfless heroes. If they did, a contribution of Esp or Mil would count towards who gains the Heart, but not towards the sealing itself.

Favour of Heaven Earned:
The Carnival of Chains: 2
Heron and Hippo: 1
Slayers of the Silent Saints: 1
Gudite Warcamp: 1

Midturn 2 is due Saturday the 27th for the New World timezones and Sunday the 28th in the morning for European timezones

[Writtensanity]

Fog choked the ghost quarter at all hours, but it felt like midnight had redoubled the usual blanket into an impassable wall. The mist hung dead in the air despite the clear sound of wind seeping between rotted doorways. Moonlight, scattered and diffused by the fog made the entire district glow an even, haunted white, giving lifeless colour to the peeling paint and looted gilding of abandoned courthouses.

The central thoroughfare, a stretch of cobblestone that ran all the way to the Palace bridge was
exclusively populated by abandoned merchant’s carts, piled high with empty sacks of cloth. Broken spokes and splintered wood coated the cobblestone, but there was no blood and there were no bodies.

A lone heartbeat rounded the corner, a harpy, talons clicking against the cobblestone. She wore a wide brimmed rancher’s hat that was out of place during the witching hour, but dressing the part was one way of steeling yourself.

The woman was a gunslinger, and carried herself like it was high noon. Slow footsteps announced her presence through the haunted streets, clawed fingers folded around the weapon at her hip and after a moment, a soft whistle escaped her lips.

Something stirred at the hint of life. Mist swirled erratically around doorways and arches.

The gunslinger whistled again, this time sharp and short. Shadows slipped out behind her, sliding into formation, obscured by the fog, but organized by practice.

Gray mist seethed into white smoke.

The gunslinger started a hum, and pulled the weapon off of her hip to point it in front of her at the street. With a flick of her wrist, she revealed the inside of four barrels, and started to load them.

“Hmmm, Hmmm, hmmm. One.”

Click the round slid into the chamber.

“Hmmm, Hmmm, hmm, Two.”

Click

“Hmmm, Hmmm, hmm, Three.”

Click

“Hmmm, Hmmm, hmm, Four.”
Click

“Hmmm, Hmmm, hmm,” pause.

Snap

The gunslinger kept humming her lonely tune, replacing the click of loading the gun with a tap of her heel. The fog had pulled back away from the doorways know, shifting into echoes of the dead gathered in the temple halls.

It wasn’t called the ghost quarter for nothing.



The gunslinger ripped a sidearm from her hip and fired it off into the smoke of the damned. Lead slashed through smoke and slammed into the temple wall, splintering wood. The echoes of gunfire rang off bells that hadn’t tolled in years.

The ghostly forms, twisted back into form, untouched and undeterred by the mundane weapon. Once they’d found their shapes again, a wail droned over the echoes of gunfire.

“Hmmm, Hmmm, hmm,” the Gunslinger continued.

Fog poured from the maws of temples, spilling out into the streets as a thousand hands scrambling across the floor. At first it flowed like water, smothering the entire street, but it found a purpose and shot towards the gunslinger.

She turned the shotgun towards the oncoming wave of spirits and pulled the trigger. There was no bullet, just salt and incense ignited by the shell.

The ritualist firepower streaked through the swarm, pulling on and snapping the threads that tethered them to the mortal plane.

Spirits shrieked, three more gunshots rang out into the night and the gunslinger began to reload. Behind her, the shadows stepped forward, holding street sweepers of their own, and rained incantations upon the undead.

Fighting both started and went long into the night.

—

[Feathersnow]

The Witch-Doctors
Mercenary * Mercantile * Spiritual

Spoiler: To: The Bloodsoaked Shaitan, Mor 2

Show

The messenger tries to look aloof, but fails. He was born here, even if he is not of here. But these people are neither, and everyone knows it. He serves callous and vengeful gods, but they serve elementals of destruction. The Witch-Doctors live in areas no one else wants, but these people are where they choose to be, even if their conditions are far more squalid.


The letter makes it to someone in authority, regardless....

To: The Bloodsoaked Shaitan.

There has been a murder and an affront. As a party uninvolved, you we wish to welcome you to participate in the extermination of the guilty. Our proposal is as follows: We will provide transportation to the area where the guilty reside. You will take anything you like, stay as long as you care to. You will be provided payment upon the service being completed, negotiable at your request

Dictated by: The Baron
Writted by His Vessel, Antoine duLac

Spoiler: To the Legio Cerebri Mor 2

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To: The Legio Cerebri

We come to you in a spirit of contrition regarding our emotional outburst. We see now we reacted harshly and out of pride to a forgivable oversight.

It is our hope we can make amends by joining against a common enemy, one that threatens you immediately, in a way more directly than us .


Our general, our champion, is missing and feared lost to the ocean of souls. The ones responsible are clear. The deranged cultists that squat at your door.

We are seeking an alliance to free the world from their threat, and are willing to give you anything we practically can to aid in this, and reward you handsomely should you succeed.

Dictated by: The Baron
Writted by His Vessel, Antoine duLac

[3SecondCultist]

Spiritual - Informed - Heroic

---

Messages at Morale 8

Spoiler: To the Witch-Doctors (Public)

Show

Rather than the usual single letter delivered with the skull seal, sheaves of parchment with the Silent Saints' insignia are distributed all over the city. On every stoop, in every guildhouse and drinking hall, every barracks, every square and temple yard, the pages are read. Additionally, a number of attached documents - which are mentioned in the Order's missive - are copied verbatim, with sworn testimonies as to their veracity and provenance.

Dear occultists of the Mire,

There are a number of issues that the Orders of the Silent Saints would care to raise with the recent words you have cast out into the world. However, the first thing that the Slayer-Confessors and I would like to do is extend a genuine hand of apology for the passing of the Knight. Your coven has done nothing on your own to provoke our hand. In the eyes of most lawful authorities, what our Slayers committed would be considered murder. That we answer to our own Liturgies - and that according to our scripture, one cannot murder that which is not mortal - is unlikely to sway you, so we seek no defense of that kind.

That being said. The invitation that you have issued to the Bloodsworn Shaitan is beyond dangerous. Visiting the literal embodiments of ruin, death, and devastation upon the innocent people of the Marble Ward goes far beyond retribution. It is pure, undiluted madness. You condemn thousands more to die screaming, or worse; to be brought back as wraiths, living in eternal torment. That is a fate that none of our Orders would wish on any soul. It is why our Slayers hunt in the first place, to bring peace to those trapped in such hideous existences.

As a warning, the Orders of the Silent Saints have transcribed your words and made them plain for all of Ardakand to bear witness. If you will not see reason, at least let the mouths of the people tell you that allying yourselves with the Shaitan in this manner is tantamount to suicide. If the good people of Ardakand do not tear you apart for this association, the Shaitan themselves will surely turn on you the moment you are no longer useful to them. Or perhaps sooner; who among even the most learned of sages can guess at the motives of a hurricane?

To: The Bloodsworn Shaitan.

There has been a murder and an affront. As a party uninvolved, we wish to welcome you to participate in the extermination of the guilty. Our proposal is as follows: We will provide transportation to the area where the guilty reside. You will take anything you like, stay as long as you care to. You will be provided payment upon the service being completed, negotiable at your request.

Dictated by: The Baron
Written by His Vessel, Antoine duLac

We hope that you heed our counsel, and the words of others that will surely follow.

However, it is unlikely that you are willing to forgive us the issue. We would surely not, were the paragons of our Order slaughtered in such a manner. Therefore, after a conclave between our Confessors, all five of the Orders of the Silent Saints would like to issue a compromise of sorts to settle the matter. A challenge of wills, with the eyes of the city watching. Coin and prestige are the only currency worth anything in Ardakand, and neither of us has any of the former, thus we will stake our reputation as warriors, plotters, and arcanists against yours. The winner will earn a place in Ardakand's future and the loser will slink back to the shadows, secure in the knowledge that they belong in the past.

On the ides of the coming month, both of us will appoint a champion. They will arrive at an agreed-upon neutral location, at which point they will duel. The rules and manner of the duel will decide on the weapons chosen, which we leave to you. Shall it be steel, cunning, or spell?

May you find peace in this life or the next,

Slayer-Confessor Vorin, Sancta Exspira

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Seriously - allying with the Shaitan will get you killed really quickly. If past games have proved anything, it's that being seen as the reprehensible party (or helping the reprehensible party) while being visibly weaker than the Big Evil gets you targeted and taken out for Victory Points. Ask any of the players here or in the Discord what happened to the Judiciary Collective in my Principia game. I would rather not have that happen to you.

Instead, what I'm proposing is a good ol' VIP duel! We both elect a VIP of the same type (or get a VIP champion from another faction willing to work with us!) and they throw down. Because I'm the one issuing the challenge and dictating the time (Midturn of Turn 3), you can choose the weapons; that means you can pick which type of VIP we're each going to use.

Now, this is pending GM approval. He could very well just say 'no' to this whole pitch, but I think it would make for a fun story and it has precedent in these games, most recently in the Sethennai game. Ideally, the stakes would be 1 Victory Point, but you don't have any VP yet. If you earn one this turn from delving, then we're good to go with an even wager. If not, maybe you stake some permanent stats? I'm kind of leaving it up to Eldan to decide the rules for the wager, but I think Victory Points fits better than anything else. Honestly, I would do this match against you for free; meaning even if I win, I get nothing. It's just too fun an RP opportunity to pass up.

Eldan, thoughts? Could be a fun event for Turn 3?

P.S. To confirm that the above is the truth, everyone has access to read the Witch Doctor's last messages to the Bloodsworn Shaitan and the Legio XXII Cerebrus at the start of this turn.

[St. Justicar]

Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh

Inhuman – Spiritual – Heroic

Morale 9

Spoiler: Public

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Our beloved is a grand and rotting beast ; Ruin seeks it like moths a flame, like vultures flock to carrion
The Shadow grasps for us, its claws sink into rich earth and so become roots.
We must act, or we shall all rue that we lived to see its bloom
Our ploughshares are not yet swords, our light ill-welcomed by the Shadow
But what we are, we offer. Guard me, or aid me, and I shall remind this wound of the nature of flesh
-Cousin Hylah

Spoiler: OOC

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Offering Cousin Hylah and 6 Art (so effective 10) towards securing the rift site at midturn, if any other will step up to provide the other 10

Spoiler: Slayers, Gudites, Cerberus

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My friends!

Truly, my friends! Each and all of you were the strong arms our City needed! When the summer comes and people are not starving, you should be thanked!

But I do not just write for backslapping. I write because I do not wish war. There will be enough killing regardless, yes? So I say why not we all agree to not throw any more corpses in the ocean just because we couldn’t all agree what’s everyone’s favourite guild?

For example, I have many friends who are friends of alchemists. They make such great fertilizer! And spices! And they are just across the bridge! Would do great work with them. And with all of you! Is poetry, that Guild Ward will be way of commerce again, yes? And all it takes is us agreeing not to kill each other!

-Cousin Arsat

Spoiler: OOC

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Essentially, I am proposing a partition of the Guild Ward, since it’s obviously going to get eaten up this turn anyway and I’d like to avoid any conflicts if I can. Also, my faction ability becomes MUCH more convenient to use when I share a Ward with people to trade with, so if all three of you end up taking a space in it too, even better for me. (and all three of you contributed to stopping the famine,which puts you in my ‘provisionally good’ bucket)

Specifically, I’d request the Alcehmist’s Guild [27] be left to me, for the entirely selfish reasons that it’d be cheaper to take and I’d like the Art.

Spoiler: Clan Fuxi

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Friend Snake!

I will not mince words, you are too far to work with right now. I know, I know, couriers hate running through the killer mermen, is shameful. But is business. Killer mermen are being taught to be less killer, have hope will start working soon. Is first thing I ask, actually – leave killer mermen to us, stay in University and not Coralward. Will not be issue by end of month, promise.

And when is not issue anymore, well, too early for specifics but. Ghosts hate us, you know this, but we might come into bits of tips and tricks for finding way around ghost-world, yes? I figure, why not figure out regular deal, agree to send them all to crazy snake people who want to live in ghostworld when we find them, and they send us treasure they find? Save everyone a step, yes?

-Cousin Arsat

Spoiler: OOC

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So, basically

1-Your own island is regrettably crowded, I know, but please stay out of Coralward
2-Once we do have a border, I’d basically just like to figure out a standing deal to offload whatever temp inv I find (and the 1 point a turn I can’t get rid of) to you in exchange for art or eco you find delving. Also trade you any permanent inv I come into, but since we can pick and choose our expansion this game that might not actually be any.

Spoiler: Slayers

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To the jagged blades of paradise, which cut at Shadow
Your work is holy, whatever gods might say
We spoke an oath, we would make good on it

In clearing the veins of our beloved we have unhappily come to own ticks
Fat and venal, ledgers full of blackmail and secrets
Boats carry food, medicine, refugees. Boatmen carry little but cruelty and vice.
We would be well rid of them, if you can replace the loss
-Cousin Hylah

Spoiler: ooc

Show

As per discussion last turn, offering to trade the permanent esp I got from the Boatyards (via dumping the vast majority of the surviving Boatmen into your custody) in exchange for permanent Eco or Art

[neriractor]

Gudite Warband

Amidst the labyrinthine tunnels of Charkand a boy ran.

“A boy” in a manner of speaking, he was (if barely) of a working age, but anything above odd jobs evaded him. The priests guarded their secrets with zeal, a withered hand made the life of a warrior impossible and those of a craftsman harder.

And while it was such concerns that fueled his step, there was more, an urgency that transcended him, that kept the eager hands of sentinels near the horns of war forever, and made even the scrolls strapped to his back a thing that causality might peek at with expectation.

No thought of him was spared for such, the scrolls were unreadable, the old lady that dispensed them said as much when she called him out “better for you that way” but didn't actually scold him, he in turn respectfully pretended like that comment came before and not after he had peeked at them, when already out of sight. No, his mind was (and had to be) all for the simple things he was allowed: early mixtures and sigils, minor rituals and literacy, cobblestones on a larger path, much like those below him, and without warning searing sunshine.

His pace slowed to a crawl, there were dangers to knowing a path blindfolded, new obstacles the main of them, as helpfully signaled by talking people and bawling beasts. The moment his eyes saw properly again, the rush was back on, jumping crates and maneuvering the crowds until he could see the bridge.

“Boy!” came a lofty voice behind him. It was from the other side of the street, the most recognized face in the Warcamp: Daghir, the triumphant wolf, and a few musicians with a crowd she was a part of. His feet didn’t take the turn to see her well, and he stumbled almost to the bridge, but not quite, his precious cargo (and his much less important self) heading for a dunk into the “pleasant” waters near Khudara.

Almost past the point of no return, a strong arm caught up, lifting him to a stand, where he could sigh in relief.

“Close call, wouldn’t want those swimming…” She commented and strapped his bag, shaken by the sprint, properly on. Thanks he thought to say but the idea didn’t have time to leave his mouth before he was sent off “Come on then, you’ll be late, send them my regards”

a nervous smile creeped in “T-that didn’t go so well yesterday”

The warrior pondered for a moment, making a triangle over her mouth with her hands “Then send her my regards, leave the old man out, fast!” she smacked his back in the direction of the bridge, in a way that somehow pushed him almost three meters without harming him or the scrolls, a guard in the bridge limited himself to stepping aside and giving him another pat on the back, to the annoyed muttering of a few imperials waiting to pay their dues.

The walk through the library was similarly brisk but much less hectic, a number of trainees much like him, if in some cases far older, ran around with a kindred speed, exchanging any pleasantries on the run and seemingly on instinct scrambling to the side for whoever’s job had the highest priority, and for the past few days it was always his.

He ventured again deeper under the earth, the crowd lightening as the marvelous walls of the library, built by centuries of noble donations gave way to a rough path of hewn stone, and ahead he heard the wisest voices amidst the Gudites.

“... And I keep getting mail inviting me to be their apprentice. Can you believe them? Me!! their apprentice!! those hacks!!!!”


“How demeaning, they. You can always become my apprentice if you wish them to stop, ohoho”

“How about you become mine and learn a thing or two, huh?... where is Ulde anyway?”

As if on cue the boy appeared, sweating and panting. careful not to allow any fluids to fall into the numerous runes inscribed all around the room (poor "borrowed skin" Alleus had thaught them that lesson). The sitting and crawling forms of the sages lifted their heads from their word inscribing, turning their heads back down in unison, hands extended to receive the precious load and a similarly united call.

“You are late”

Ulde thought about making an excuse while he handed the scrolls, but felt it unneeded when all attention turned to them and towards the scrolls, sighing relief and standing at attention until Delilah’s goggles turned back to him, and maintained their position, piercing eyes invisible but clearly felt behind them.

“The Wolf sends you her regards Miss…”

“Master”

“...Master Delilah”

The dark scrutiny of the goggles remained on him just a second too many for his comfort (which is to say one), until a scoff came from their owner who quickly went back to scribbling on the floor.

“She can regard her medals…”

Her lenses changed a few times through mechanical means to further unveil the scrolls and she at times inquired with the other sage in strange languages, as they sometimes did when a concept was not accounted for in the common Imperial or Western tongues.

Excitedly, Delilah beckoned Ulde closer, handing him a small rune-inscribed stone on a silver chain.

“Come here, do you remember this rune?”

His eyes drifted to the strange necklace, prompting an exasperated sigh from his seniors.

“Not that one, that’s just protection, look where I’m pointing” he squinted, struggling to see the rune in the dim light but actually recognizing it for the nearby patterns “Ilid, of movement” the duo moved past scribbling and started to prepare reactives and activate other runes while talking “Good, good, pay attention then, you are about to witness greatness. You see that one to its left? that's a lost version of Gallandr "spring of the earth", when combined...”

“Pfft…Not everything you don’t know is lost knowledge Fairway”

“explain it your way in your time then!… Now, where was I? right...” a dim light spread from the many lines all across the room just as a rumble was heard all around them, shaking the dust from their secluded laboratory and remainding the boy, Ulde, soon to be the geomancer, of the wisdom in donning protective necklaces before the actual ritual starts, thus he lived through it, the attached lesson, and in the end, witnessed greatness.

Morale: 5
Rep: Martial-Spiritual-Barbarian

Spoiler: The Guild's reach (Slayers of the silent saints, Legio Cerberus, Gardeners of the inmortal flesh)

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Hail, emissaries and specially to you Cousin Arsat.

Along with all the reputable company gathered here we have an interest in the Guilds that thrive and make this city thrive, but we since no guild is of our kin. We would rather approach this from a position of neutrality, any guild you do not want is good for us.

Though our preference is for the fine linens of the weavers, the strong backs of the architects or... heavy industry.

Azagar's bounty,
Solyom, Leviathan.

Spoiler: Clan Fuxi of the white Snake

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Greetings Fuxi Kin,

The arrival of the despoilers so far west changes things, you should for one thing, ask the rangers for protection, and if you want join us in Charkrand (12), Khudara is too dangerous now, we still intend to make a foothold there, if you, who know the aether so well, could help us deal with them, we would be very grateful.

Spoiler: OOC

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So, to summarize: I wouldn't cross into Khudara if I was you, though I can take back my claim on the ranger corps and allow you one territory in Chakrand for your troubles. I'll also like to purchase some inv for eco on a 1:1 basis now that we share borders.

Spoiler: Gardeners of the inmortal flesh

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A discreet messenger approaches with an intimate paper, lacking the may stamps of the Guild discussion (or any stamps at all really).

Greetings cousins,

We couldn't help but notice your abcense in our replanting efforts, well, all the same if people eat... The alchemist guild is of great interest to us too, as our powders of war and party all require the fine ingredients they traffic in. As you see, we have refrained from calling for them and that is because we wish to cut a deal.

We can support for up to two of your Guild treaties, if you would put a good word in with us with the beastmen of the Tidemaze (52), with the added benefit that we would then keep contact even without the guild ward.

Gulldr's loyalty,
Solyom, Leviathan.

Spoiler: OOC

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"Putting in a good word" is just leaving 52 open for me, in exchange I'll help you get 2 Guilds so long as I get to keep one of my two choices. Sounds good?

Spoiler: Legio Cerberus

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Hail trifecta Legates,

Excellent effort in the famine relief, all letters from those who help have been of praise for your methods and courage.

The call for discussion of the Guild Ward couldn't come at a better time, given the... proliferation of some dangerous elements through the city, it is for the better that we work together and not squabble over such pitances as tariff rights on Guild goods.

As such, we would like to offer a deal:
-We shall, against the council of our geomancer, not intervene at all in dealings with Legio minotaurus and the artificiary they hold.
-we'll earn rights to deal with either the Weavers (28) or the architects (29) and whoever we don't goes to the gardeners, the rest of the isle is for you and the Slayers to decide.
-In exchange, for this moderate approach, we would like to handle security for the Moneylenders (14), as our intelligence suggests they are looking to hire stronger protection.

Spoiler: OOC

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Just in case:
I don't even look at Minotaur, even though I want to.
I get either 28 or 29, the gardeners get the other.
I don't even look at the eastern 2 territories that aren't the Legion.
I get to take 14.
What do you say?

Spoiler: The bloodsworn Shaitan

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A javelyn makes for a near miss against one of the revenants across the river, a message tied to its end.

I see your kind dances in fire and laughs with scream wherever they are, but where I've seen you before I never stopped to see if you spoke, now is your chance then. Howl and dispel dreams, or speak and dispel phantasms.

Spoiler: The Carnival of Chains

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This time Daghir walks into the Carnival's territory, armored but not in any sort of alerts, and hopeful to find more success than Solyom, when someone reaches her (as she lacks the means to find a carnival member beyond the embarrasing "ask around") she speaks:

"We are in debt, Thanks to you many will have enough for winter, without an iron hand in the wait to take it away. As you have proven to have some sense, and better ears for the ground than ours, I'd have your advise on the current situation if you'd share it."

[Let'sGetKraken]

The Bloodsworn Shaitan

Morale 9

Spoiler: To the Gudite Warband

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Whoever threw the javelin will not know whether the Shaitan speak - luckily for them. Instead, the reply comes, expectedly, in the form of significant and pointless escalation: a great olive tree, hewn into an enormous spear, and hurled back across the river, where it impales itself in either a building or a helpless bystander (whichever you'd prefer, really). Upon inspection, there are words.... not carved, but rotted into the wood itself.

Take the Sumps. Ratgate is ours, by pain of fire and blood.

Spoiler: To the Witch-Doctors

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The response is silence, carried across the waters by the smoke from the ruins of the Triumphal Road. If the Witch-Doctors expect the Shaitan to pick a fight with the Slayers this early, it seems as though a more substantial offering is required.

[Eldan]

The Lion's Claw



Legate Parastus Aurelius sighed, heavily, and allowed himself to drop down into a chair, though still sitting errect and stiff as a beanpole, then dropped the eagle-beaked Aquila helmet on the table. He filled himself a cup of heavily watered wine, pushed two more at the two centurions standing uncomfortably at attention.
"Well?"
"Total shi- uhm, distaster, Legate. Five districts destroyed. Reasonable estimate says three to five more lost this month if major action isn't taken. Two or three thousand dead, three times as many refugees."
The other centurion, with a grimace, added:
"The Carnival are peaceful enough so far, but they seem days away from openly calling for the heads of the remaining administrations and the legions. The Immortals are right, Legate. The Minotaurus did abandon their post. And enter the city. And the Cerberus too, even though they do good work."
The first one continued.
"And some Barbarian has taken over most of the palace. He, uhm, is saying that he is the Judge of the Dead, whatever that means? Maybe it's "Ghost Lawyer". The informants weren't very clear on that one."
"Alright. The city is fed. We have done that much, at least." Parastus pondered for a while. "The land is secure. No one is attacking us from outside. But we are the Eagle. We are not made for city fighting. We need... a new approach."

To the Gudite Warcamp, the Legio XXIIX Cerberus, the Golden Guard [8]

Spoiler

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Hail, Commanders

We have considered for a while who we should adress in this missive. Everyone adressed here has proven their martial competence and, if not in all cases outright heroism, at least a reasonable temperament that we think that we can work with.

Here is the problem, as we consider it: our city is falling apart. There are murderous revenants rampaging, crime is out of control and barbarians are dividing up the territory. We must do something.

However, the problem we are facing is this: the Eagle is unsurpassed in exactly three things: putting heavy infantry and archers on the city walls, raining hellfire from the sky down on those who would besiege our fair city and patrolling the land for as far as the rukhs fly.

None of that helps us in city fighting. We need to form a new fighting force. A city militia, skilled at urban fighting and keeping the peace. And we think that, as between us we control the overwhelming majority of the city's forces, it should be up to us to muster, train and outfit them.

The Legate, P. Aurelius, Legio II Aquila

OOC: This is the first outline Aquila's official Confederation proposal. They want Mil, and in large quantities. More details will follow.

[A_Dinosaur]

Legio XXIIX Cerberus

They had fought in the fields, the gates, the streets.

The fight was not over. The fight would never be over.

But so long as there was some good left in this city.

They would fight.

Morale 10
Heroic, Imperial, Hierarchical

Players

The Slayers of the Silent Saints

Spoiler

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Hail Confessor,

Seems you’ve already lived up to your names. I won’t pretend I entirely understand the tenets of faith that led you there, but as I’m sure you already know the Witchdoctors are requesting my assistance to find recompense. Given their already surprisingly chilly relation to my Legion I’m not particularly inclined to move on that particular front, especially given the pressing issues of Shaitan all around me, but I thought it best to reach out none the less and keep our communication lines clear.

On the topic of the Shaitan, have you heard any more relevant word of the Bloodsworn this month? I am trying to ascertain their movements and form a strategy against them, and with their skill in scorched earth information will be key.

The Witch Doctors

Spoiler

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Baron,

I suppose I must apologize for my lack of clarity in the previous month, with clear answers coming in public channels from others I was loath to speak for your faction, and you were present in the public talks regarding the crisis, so perhaps next time you can simply speak for yourselves rather than decrying my misguided attempt at courtesy.

Regardless, the murder of your general is indeed disturbing, especially at this early hour, but I struggle to know how I can publicly deal with the situation, especially in light of your outburst against my Legion last month. There are bloodsworn demons on my doorstep, I hardly have the resources to run a court of law against the Slayers, and while I might not agree with their target, they have shown ready willingness to battle the demons, whereas you have apparently threatened to aid their destruction.

If you have further words for me, please share them, but I see this situation as stalled at best.

Imperial Salutations
Legate Orbei

The Gudite Warcamp

Spoiler

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This seems an agreeable enough pact to me. Do you have news of the Shaitan? I am trying to predict their movements as best I can and any information is valuable right now.

Imperial Salutations
Legate Orbei

NPCs

Legio Aquila

Spoiler

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Our Legion already stands ready to fight against the Shaitan and other threats that may come to face the city, particularly if the rift is not sealed in time. I believe a strong unity among the Imperial Legio will be a key factor in seeing the city through the crisis, already Turga Qadan has been rallied with the Cavalry school, and we coaxed Minotaurus from their shell last month to secure the grain harvest. Had you not reached out first I would have equally sought your council in a united legion to restore the Empire and one day the Mandate.

My Legion has fought many irregular battles across our years in the civil war, and together our might would be near overwhelming against the disaster that has beset Ardakand, tell us what you may need to seal such a pact and we will meet it. And if that may be months away still, join with us against the anathama that is the bloodsworn and help us restore the triumph to its good name and root out their evil from the city.

Imperial Salutations
Legate Orbei

[Feathersnow]

The Witch-Doctors
Mercenary * Mercantile * Spiritual

The Witch-Doctors have come to expect nothing from the outside, yet still came to be disappointed.

The slight by the Cerebri was clearly deliberate, they were allies of the Slayers, all but admitted it. To expect justice from them was a mistake.

The Shaitan though, no doubt saw the same obvious point the Witch-Doctors did. It did not serve their immediate interests to draw attention to themselves by antagonizing people who could defend themselves. Which no longer included the Witch-Doctors. That was, as much as the obvious fact they were right there, the real reason the Witch-Doctors were eager to pay them to be elsewhere

And what about this nonsense about a duel! As though one of the murderous gutterslime had honor worth the likes of the Baron acknowledging! The admitted their guilt and thought they could fight their way clear of it...

Well, maybe they could, but thrice-damn, the Witch-Doctors weren't going to make it easy by walking into what was clearly an ambush. Even if, somehow, the swine acted in good faith, it would mean nothing. They made their intentions to drive the Witch-Doctors from the city by force. Even if they lost, it wouldn't change their future actions one bit.

It was all a trick to drive away potential allies and it might even have worked, but acting like it was more was foolishness.

From the territory of the Witch-Doctors, there is only silence....

[St. Justicar]

Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh

Inhuman – Spiritual – Heroic

Once, in the greatest City in the world, there was a Storm
It was the wrath of stymied gods, and the hunger of a half-tamed sea, and the judgment for the folly of men
It raged for a hundred years, and would rage for ten thousand more
When the City burned it would burst its banks, and drown all that was great and beautiful

Its winds were as ferocious as a hungry rukh, and as eager to pluck a child from their father’s hands
Its tides were as violent as a wounded kraken, and as desperate to crush ship and sailor like against the jagged shore
Its lightning was a terrible as a vengeful deva, and as joyous when it struck down the desperate and the proud

For a generation the Storm roared and raged and battered the earth beneath it, and for a generation the shattered isles around it were left desolate and forlorn, and only those as broken and damned as the land ever called it home.

But when the City’s princes abandoned it, and the Shadow ran red with innocent blood, and the world burned so fiercely that refugees filled the Peacock Gate at all hours to share the Peace of the City, though that peace by then already harder to find than a three-eyed calf, on one of those shattered isles a seed took root.

A Garden bloomed. Life, and plenty, and coral and flowers and bone and meat and blood and mercy. It took root, and spread, and bloomed. Its roots bound together the broken isles around the storm, as its flesh bound together the desperate and lost who found shelter in its shade.

For a time, it grew in the Storm’s shadow, watered by its rain. But only for a time. One was death, and gods, and rage; the other life, and man, and love. But though the Storm was mighty the Garden could grow.

On on the day of the new moon a great swarm of pests flew into the Storm, and nine in ten were killed by the hungry wind, and then nine in ten were drowned by the leaping waves, and at last nine in ten were burned by a bolt from the wrathful sky. But the swarm was vast, and each had dranken deep of the bone-coral’s blood, and of the one in a thousand to survive, one in ten found their way to the very heart of the storm, where the winds were calm and the water still, and one in ten touched the raging sea, and drank of the waters without being devoured in turn, and one in ten found their way to the sky, to look down upon the storm and feel the sun upon their wings.

They returned, and made cocoons in the bone-coral’s hollows, and were consumed by the mites within it, and all they had learned was preserved until the end of days.

For a day and a night strange blossoms budded throughout the Garden. Some withered, and others bloomed only to be cut down by shears or consumed by pests. But three bore fruit.

On the dawn of the first day, a man walked into the Storm. The ferocious winds tore at him, and flayed the flesh from his bones. But he did not cry out or cower, and walked until his bones were all that remained, and were broken and carried away in turn. In place of blood and bone and meat and offal all within him was seeds, and the hungry winds cast them across every inch of its domain. Wherever they touched coral or rock or soil they took root, and by noon a forest of reeds had grown greedily on the Storm’s torrents and stood each the height of men. The awful winds raged through them, and they bowed before it but did not break, or allow themselves to be plucked from the earth. Instead they sang, and sang so beautifully the winds were lured within them, for each reed was the bone of a great bird, beautiful and hollow. And once lured within they were trapped, for though from without the reeds were like eggshells, from within they were like iron. And so by dusk the air grew still and calm, though the forest of reeds which now covered the land like the Behemoth’s coat still bent and sang with the tempest within them.

On the dawn of the second day, a woman walked into the Storm. There were no winds, and she walked happily to shore of what had once been a great temple, and was now the most deadly whirlpool in all the seven seas. With a smile she dove, even as the violent tides seized her, and dashed her against a thousand jagged rocks. In place of blood and bone and meat and offal all with her were her children, and as she was torn by a thousand rocks, a thousand midnight-black eels slipped free of her skin. The raging seas tore at them and dashed them against the shore, but though it broke their scales it could not stop their growth. By noon each was larger than palace’s hippo, and the seas were black with their endless blood. But to the angry seas their blood was not blood, but like unwatered wine, and as they bled the tides grew drunk on them, and first clumsy, and then slothful, and then at last collapsed into contented slumber. By dusk each eel was curled beneath its own ruined isle, and though the seas were black and blood, they were as still as glass.

On the dawn of the third day a dozen children walked into the Storm. There were no winds, so they skipped and played among the reeds. There were no waves, so they frolicked in the still water. At noon the sky could take no more, and for their hubris it smote them. But these were special children, and in place of a heart each had the seed of a flower. The terror of the heavens burned away all they were, and in place of bone and blood and meat and offal all there was was ash. But in that ash flower took root, and in an instant it bloom, and its petal closed tight around the lightning and trapped it before it could return to the sky. The anger of the gods is endless, but the wrath of the storm was not, and with a dozen flowers each stealing a piece of it, there was nothing left to rain down from the sky. Each flower was great, the size of a golden golem and twice as bright, and when dusk fell they lit up the fog around them as brightly as the sun ever had.

The Storm has not broken, it will rage for ten thousand years, but as long as the Garden blooms it will wait, without wind or wave or lightning, nothing but a fog that never rises. The light is soft, and the music soothing, and now at last there is a place as calm and still as you could ever wish.

Rest a while, and feel the peace that has been stolen from the City before you could ever enjoy it.

Morale 9

Spoiler: Gudite Warcamp

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Friend Leviathan!

Apologies for the caravan! My own mistake, truly. My Cousins are not very political, you might say, I not take time to make sure they knew the caravan they should join is not the big one. No insult intended, I promise!

Now, as for deal, is interesting! Can see why you want beastmen working for you, they fit right in! Is bit of pain to fit everything across one bridge so fast, but architects with blueprints and builders do more good faster than bunch of angry mermen we need to teach how to be nice, yes? Still, Morays have pearls and treasures that City loves to buy, can buy a lot of fertilizer and medicine with that money!

Though, don’t just kill them, right? Killer mermen not very friendly, but can’t just kill them first! Trying to make Coralward sanctuary, if we can.

Spoiler: OOC

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Yeah, totally my bad about the caravan thing, was writing me EOT without internet to check thread and literally forgot.

Anyway yeah, not really opposed, though trading an eco territory for an art one is basically a lateral move for me, and it will cost me an extra 3 to take it this turn. Soo, through in a little sweetener? (I will accept ‘commiting to help close the giant dimensional rift this turn’)

Spoiler: Legions Aquila, Minotarus, Cerberus

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Champions of the Just! Swords of the Righteous! Great Beasts of Heaven!

You care for the City, you are its sword and shield. So I beg, aid me, let us suture a wound before the pus is a wave lapping against our walls.

Will you not guard and escort us to staunch this rot in the world, as you did to end the famine before it began?

-Cousin Hylah

Spoiler: OOC

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Just shamelessly trying to guilt-trip you into chipping in some mil at midturn for the event, basically

[Nemesis67]

Carnival of Chains
Defensive Espionage: 11

Artistic, Criminal, Egalitarian

Every player except Legio Cerberus and the Slayers of the Silent Saints
(Bloodsworn Shaitans, Clan Fuxi, Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh, Golden Guard, Gudite Warband, Hemminghock, Heron and Hippo, Witch-Doctors) (11)

Spoiler

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The Imperial Hounds show themselves as legitimate an authority as the rest of the elites clinging to their dead empire.

The Witch Doctors committed [10 Eco] towards feeding the public, at the request of Legios Aquila and Cerberus. The city shall not starve due in large part to the Baron and his people. Despite this, and despite knowing this, the Slayers assassinated the Knight. Clearly, their thirst for powerful souls outweighs their concern for the fate of the people of Ardakand.

Spoiler: Original Messages

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Witch-Doctors

We are always happy to provide aide to the common people and see to the needs of all who seek our benevolence. It is right that the people rely on us, as we rely on them. We will commit as much of our wealth to secure the harvest as is necessary, should adequate security be available.

Dictated by: The Baron
Writted by His Vessel, Antoine duLac

Legio Cerberus

Baron,

Your aid is sorely needed and greatly appreciated, with your aid and the Gardeners, the people of the countryside will not die from exposure, and be able to secure the harvest, and thus we in the city will not starve.

Imperial Salutations,
Legate Orbei

In addition, the Slayers have decreed Clan Fuxi a threat to our grand city, along with the Bloodsworn Shaitans and Witch-Doctors. Especially with the White Snake having a source of "those who've denied death", I expect the Clan will be seeing a visit by the Slayers as well.

Spoiler: Original Message

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Slayers of the Silent Saints

Spoiler: To the Carnival of Chains

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The woman who delivers the letter into the heart of the Allotments does not pretend to be anything other than she is: armed and armored with a bevy of weapons and poisons under a thick grey-and-navy cloak. The lower half of her face is covered in a mask, and her kohl-rimmed gaze takes in everything she sees.

Dear Albatross,

We are aware that you likely had our messenger followed, that you knew what she had for breakfast this morning, and who she went to bed with last night. There are no secrets between us, nor should there be. Those of our role and station often go unseen, but in such a time of turmoil and upset we are thrust out of the darkness. What were once games of intrigue now have higher stakes, and will shape the course of the Empire for generations to come. We cannot afford to be at odds, not when a single mistake could cast down

Although our Orders do not always agree with your methods, we believe that our ends are not so incompatible. Your Carnival seeks to cast down the corrupt and the cruel. Our Slayers hunt down evil-doers and the unworthy, eliminating them where they sleep. Why not coordinate, and work together to rid Ardakand of all those who would corrupt it? There is certainly no shortage of targets; the Witch Doctors, Clan Fuxi, and of course the Bloodsworn Shaitan are all clear and present dangers. They would plunge the City of Cities into an age of iniquitous sorceries and craven injustices, and in the latter case of open slaughter.

You may not trust our Order enough to ally with us in the open. Therefore, what I am proposing is an unofficial understanding, one where we keep one another appraised of information and opportunities that would allow us to truly wipe the slate clean. What say you?

May you witness the voices in the shadows,

Slayer-Confessor Vorin, Sancta Exspira

Spoiler: OOC

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So we could compete for the Esp niche this game, but I have no interest in that when it seems like our factions are incredibly well aligned. The Carnival wants justice. The Slayers want to fight evil. I'd very much like a friend or two, and if we quietly work together our factions will be crazy powerful; the last game I ran with this ruleset, the two Esp factions fought each other and lost, so I'm advocating against that.

Gudites, the Wolf's mystical healing can be called denying death, so we advise you watch for their agents. After the Baron, I suspect she will be the next target of the Slayers.

Heron and Hippo, as well as any others who delve outside this world, once the easier to justify targets are slain, they are likely to go after those who should've died in the Spirit World. Or those who've made a pact, for that matter. The Knight is not too dissimilar from what you invokers do.