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Chapter Twenty-Six: The Mountain and the Ocean 1795-1807 Grand Council Chambers, Ilzin Mykx, 1800 Sharp barks and whooping laughter echoed from the main chamber as Roukon paced down the adjoining corridor. The Grand Council was deep in debate on funding for additional garrisons and Vanguard divisions for the nation's growing overseas concessions and campaigns. They would argue, bicker, and hold their votes, but the real decisions would be made in the Committees. If five new divisions needed to be raised, the money would be found, one way or another. Roukon took a moment to pause and look out of one of the windows. The chambers had been built to dominate the skyline of Ilzin Mykx, to be one of the things that new arrivals approaching the Grand Harbour would see of the city-island. From this corridor, he could see the grand boulevard that had been carved out of the slums that had once dominated the Inner District tracing a straight line to the water, and surrounding it all the eclectic architectural marvels inspired by cities around the world that the Vanguard had reason to find itself deployed to. The Consul had encouraged it after her tour of Demon's Blood export ports from Cannor to Haless. The disaster of walkways that had once covered the harbour were gone, replaced with properly constructed quay and dockyards, with the harbour itself having tripled in size as armies of workers freed up from their menial job by industrialization had toiled to dredge and expand it. A mere fraction of the Revolutionary Fleet was stationed here, but it still dominated the harbour as a squadron of immaculate three-decked warships dressed in armour plating, autoloading cannons poking from between them, and with an eternal hellfire flame flickering at their prow loomed over everything. Underneath them, hundreds of smaller vessels, both sail and steam-paddle worked to fuel the heart of the nation. "Looking for a way to escape?" Chairgnoll Ehn asked, stepping up beside him. Roukon silently cursed himself for getting distracted and letting himself get caught in this conversation. "You think I'd run away?" Roukon scoffed as he turned to her, "I'd expect that behaviour from someone whose only concern was wealth. The Fleet, the Vanguard, they don't run from a fight." Ehn was dressed in the latest high fashion for the emerging oligarch class. A very loose and flowing layered dress that hung from the shoulders, each piece made from a different expensive fabric and imported from a different continent. Utterly impractical, but a way to flaunt wealth and power. If you did not need to concern yourself with how you dressed for your job, and you had underlings to carry everything for you, then you didn't need to wear something that made sense. She puffed at a Demon's Blood cigar held in her claws and offered a toothy smirk to Roukon. "You ran from a warship to an office, though," she said. "Do you really think this is less dangerous than the battlefield?" Roukon retorted. "Only dangerous for those who can't keep up," Ehn said. She took a long puff on her cigar, then clicked her claws. A Human appeared from around a corner and delivered a sheaf of papers to Ehn, before disappearing again. Roukon had to wonder just how many other agents Ehn had hidden around them. Though, of course, his own bodyguards were not ones to be outplayed. You could buy as many mercenaries as you wanted, but that wouldn't match up against fervent and veteran ex-Vanguard. "I received a copy of the 'The Bi-polar World'," Ehn said. That caught Roukon's attention. He hadn't even finished drafting up that report, and it had already fallen into her hands. It wasn't particularly surprising, but now he was on the back foot. "You have opinions on it, I take it?" Roukon asked, nonchalantly. "It reads like a coward wrote it," she snarled, "abandoning all our economic interests in the east just because you are scared of some Dwarves. Do you know how much money we would lose if we lost access to the markets of Cannor and Haless?" "That's why I've done this analysis," Roukon replied, "Lorent is no longer a threat, Yanshen is no longer a threat, Bhuvauri is no longer a threat. We have tested and defeated all of them, but the High Dominion does not care if we rule the seas. I have laid out the worst-case scenario, to encourage the Grand Council to vote for funding for more Vanguard divisions." She opened her snout to speak, but Roukon held up a clawed finger to it to keep her quiet. "We both know that the Consul will probably resign when this war's over, if not sooner, and I intend to make sure we are prepared for any enemy out there," he hissed, "I do not care how much money you and your allies want to hoard amongst yourselves. This nation was built by the Fleet, and the Revolution was secured by the Vanguard. We shape the world, not your precious 'Hand of Fozzra'." "You do have some spine," Ehn said, batting away Roukon's paw, "but whose interests do you think you've been serving these past few decades? Do we not have economic concessionary ports across the world instead of military bases?" "What is your point?" Roukon asked. "I can't have the Chairgnoll for Militarization backing away from a fight," she said, "Fozzra turns the wheels, while Kzryl mans the cannons." "And both of them serve Xhazob," Roukon countered, "I serve the nation and the Revolution, not your bank balance." "The Revolution was over a long time ago," Ehn said, "though your fanatical Vanguards don't seem to have noticed. Remember the real interests that you serve, don't sacrifice our hegemony out of fear of some hole-dwellers, and you'll have a long career." She patted him on the shoulder and stepped away, shredding the report with her claws and scattering it to the floor as she did so. Roukon watched her depart down the corridor and gave a hand signal to his bodyguards, observing from somewhere nearby, that they could relax. As much as he wouldn't admit it out loud, she was right that the ideals of the Revolution were fading. These days, it was just propaganda used to justify the latest war to the masses and encourage them to signup to the frontlines. Worse still, he found himself more comfortable in the power that he had, than in the idea of another Revolution. That was simply the nature of strength, and now the Burning Ocean Republic was the greatest power of all. He needed to be the one to climb to the apex of that, not her or any of her ilk. He looked down at the shredded report and the attached Viewcatcher image of Dwarves gathered around an obsidian-black artillery piece, the barrel inscribed with harshly glowing purple runes, and a distant mountain that was missing half of its peak. His report had been deliberately pessimistic, but the real truth between the Mountain and the Ocean would be told on the battlefield. Excerpts from the journal of Roukon Shredspear, Chairgnoll of the Committee for Militarization  The Committee has approved a potential intervention in the Ynn Plateau. The Half-Orcs of the Freemarches and the Halflings of West Tipney have long been united through a series of political marriages which, while obviously not fruitful, have kept the region stable for Demon's Blood merchants. That changed when Adelar silna Rhas III lay claim to both thrones, with the potential for a unified Ynn to challenge our economic interests in the region. Some of the more radical members of the Grand Council want to tear down the monarchies entirely, but stability in Aelantir is considered more important.  The majority of the Vanguard remain overseas, with the campaign about to begin in Far Bulwar and Rahen against the slavers of Bhuvauri. Rahen is the last major region, besides the near impenetrable mountains holds of the High Dominion, that our markets lack access to. A great deal of surveyors from the Committee for Commercialization will be following behind the Vanguard to appraise the region for business interests.  Meanwhile, the Fleet is in position for a complete blockade of the Gulf of Rahen and an amphibious assault into Rahen proper. Learning lessons from previous conflicts, the standard squadron size has been increased to ensure that our warships are not completely overwhelmed by numbers.  Perhaps the offer of support to the Half-Orcs was a bit more investment than we expected. Lorent has intervened in the conflict, and with a significant portion of the Vanguard away in the east, we do not have the manpower to protect our concession on the Cannorian mainland. Three divisions have been stationed in North Aelantir, so the outcome of that conflict is not in doubt, but there may be economic repercussions. Ehn will not be happy.  As expected, Lorent has moved to seize our interests on their shores. However, we still maintain control of the seas, so much of the stock and ranking businessgnolls of the ports were saved. There is no chance of Lorent being able to intervene in the war on the other side of the ocean.  Projections agree that Lorent has declined enough that we need not redirect resources from the war against Bhuvauri to defeat them. As a portion of the land force pushes along the coast, with the rest securing the routes through the Far Bulawari desert, an amphibious assault launched from Tianlou will strike directly at Sramaya, the enemy capital. An army of slave soldiers should not be able to stand against the capabilities of our Vanguard.  Without Lorentish support, West Tipney is surrounded on all sides. Their ambitious king is reported to have taken to the field with the largest surviving army to defend the coastline in hope of relief, but with the Fleet blockading the Lorentish homeland, none will come.  Sramaya fell without issue, and the Bhuvauri fleet was driven into an unwinnable battle against the Fleet. Though outnumbered four-to-one, our warships and sailors triumphed and seized the Bhuvauri flagship, before catching the enemy admiral when he fled to a secondary command ship. On land, we have been distributing revolutionary leaflets among the population and arming slaves who are lower down the ladder of the strange slaves-owning-slaves system that Bhuvauri runs on. With wars still to fight elsewhere, we do not have time for a long occupation and tutelage of a long-oppressed population, so we will leave it to them to fight their own Revolution. Seriously we somehow ended up with two captured flagships from this battle.  Events in Cannor call for an end to the Bhuvauri war. When Lorentish forces entered our holdings, they tore out every Gnollish or Demon's Blood related business that they could get their hands on. The powder companies have taken massive losses as a result and are demanding the government drag compensation out of the Cannorians. That is not something that we can do until we return our armies to the region.  Peace with Bhuvauri secured us all Gnollish land under their rule, with some additional buffer territory, as well as concession within Rahen itself and trading rights for Demon's Blood within their borders. It has not removed them as a complete threat, but has benefits as it leaves them as a counterbalance against Yanshen and Bim Lau growing too strong.  There was some territory in Elizna with Gnollish minorities that was not taken in the previous war, so I ordered the armies returning westwards to engage in a brief campaign to bring them under control. Elizna's only backer is Lorent, who is in no position to aid them. They can keep control of the Mother's Sorrow and their colonial territory in the south, but they are firmly within our sphere of influence now.  We left Bhuvauri in chaos, with armed revolutionaries calling for the end of slavery, fuelled by copious amounts of Demon's Blood flowing through our concession. There have been concerns raised of their rivals taking advantage of the situation, so our agents are keeping a close eye on the situation.  Reception to our control has been divided. Some Gnolls have eagerly embraced Demon's Blood and the revolutionary society that we have brought to them, while others still follow the religions and social structures that the Jaddari and Sun-worshipping Elves brought to them and need supressing until their way of thinking can be corrected. Every incident of native Gnolls embracing us is welcome.  After leading the Republic through its great expansion across the world, Vieh has resigned. We all had seen this coming, and the jockeying for position has been fierce, but given the ongoing war against Lorent, the potential for another large war in Haless, and rumours of the High Dominion plotting against us, most of the Grand Council wanted a military mind in charge.  It is strange to have to deal with internal matters along with military planning. Social conflicts between the Kult and other faiths that still linger within our borders are rife, but at least I have the ability to delegate to the Committee for Gnollification, who have the authority to remind both sides that they are citizens.  With the Vanguard returned from Rahen, we have staged a landing in southern Lorent with support from Moonhaven, who hate Lorent enough to work with us despite us stripping their colonies away. Lorent has also been attacked by Khozrugan, the Orcish empire that dominates Escann, drawing their troops away to the north and leaving us near-uncontested. They have fallen a long way from being the largest power in Halann.  The government of Arakeprun has conceded to the Revolutionaries, and a tide of Demon Blood consumers has spilled out onto the streets of their cities. Loyalists to the old ways have retreated into the Domandrod, the fey woodland at the centre of their territory, but some of our Ruinborn smuggler contacts have suggested that Demon's Blood gives them an even greater connection to their fey patrons, much like it does with us and the demonic Host. If that is the case, the loyalists are unlikely to be welcome in their own forest. Some have suggested we intervene just in case that is not true, but I think they can be left to their conflict.  The war for Freemarches has ended with a resounding victory, and Freemarches claiming much of the Ynn Plateau. We will need to continue monitoring this situation, to avoid the pendulum swinging too far in the opposite direction.  Stories of the skies of northern Rahen being illuminated by explosions of impossible proportions had been filtering into our concession. Followed soon by waves and waves of refugees, and then not too soon after that by the same lights covering the horizon. The High Dominion's machinations have begun. Not wanting a revolutionary state on their southern border, they have intervened in Bhuvauri to install a loyal slaver into power and shut down this threat to the eastern Serpentspine. The speed of their campaign has been incredible, so it is a chance we need to take quickly.  The Vanguard have been deployed to Gnollish Bulwar, the Fleet has set itself to shut down the High Dominion's meagre coastline. There are Gnolls living under oppression of the Obsidian Dwarves, but there are bigger things at stake here. The High Dominion have spent the past two centuries, since they crawled out of whatever deep dark pit they had been hiding in, safe from us. In that time, they have grown to become the most productive economy and largest army in the world, the dwarf holds becoming finely tuned machines of military production. If we do not beat them now, they could grow to the point they could take all of the supercontinent of Halcann without even needing to engage with our Fleet.  Though, if there is one consolation it is that they could never defeat us on the sea. Even a smaller squadron is enough to scare fifteen times its number in Dwarven vessels into port. With control of all of their coastal waters we can boost our own economy by a good twenty percent just by what we can siphon from theirs. Of course, with most of their true economic power in the mountains what we siphon from them is perhaps less than ten percent of their own economy.  On the last ship out of Sarkhashabid, the crew witnessed a shimmering purple light on the hillside overlooking the city, and then the outer districts simply evaporating under the weight of an unimaginable barrage. If these reports are accurate, perhaps the High Dominion is an even greater threat than we could have imagined. So, here is the problem. The Obsidians are really good at sieges. That was a level 8 fort, unblockaded.  The towering mountains of the Serpentspine are within sight of our forces, but hundreds of thousands of Dwarves are pouring forth from them, armed with weapons as devastating as the hellfire shot that our Vanguard make use of. I have set sail for Bulwar, and sent orders to take Aqatbar and group the army there before engaging the Obsidians directly. This is no longer the time for orders to take weeks to travel back and forth.  I have arrived just outside the walls of Aqatbar and convened with the generals to discuss our strategy. The Dwarves seem distracted with the rebels that we left in our wake as we advanced through Bulwar, which gives us a moment to breathe. With half a million already in sight, tearing down the fortifications faster than we can take them, we cannot win a siege race. We need to defeat them in detail, strike at isolated units and annihilate them before their full mass of guns can be brought to bear. The Humans and Elves that dwell in these lands have a dark feeling about them. They aren't slaves, not technically, but they might as well be. Their lives are strictly regimented by their Dwarven overlords, and they live work and die at the command of the Dwarven overseers, all in the service of their long-dead Runefather. It is different from the tales of slavery in the days of Mykx. If you walked through the streets of one of the cities in peacetime you might mistake it for a utopia.  Casualties are not the problem. Numbers aren't the problem. When the Vanguard get into melee, they can tear through Dwarven ranks just as easily as any other. Morale is the problem. Even the Vanguard, as fanatical as they are, do not hold a candle to these Dwarves. It is said that their Runefather forged the Obsidian Empire when his Dwarves were banished deep underground, and now nearly all of the upper Serpentspine has also been united under his legacy. Perhaps that is enough to have them fight with such ferocity. That, and the devastating effect of their cannons when brought to bear. They are even willing to fire into their own to destroy ours locked in close combat. Our attempt to relieve the city of Bulwar has failed, the Vanguard has been scattered, and the 3rd and 7th divisions have been destroyed outright as they fled in the wrong direction. I have pulled back to Aqatbar with what I have left to plan our next move. Not only can they batter walls, but they can batter armies as well. Their quality is on par with ours, and their numbers and morale are greater.  Some good news awaited me in Aqatbar. Larankar has finally fallen to Revolutionaries, finally bringing out greatest competitor in Aelantir into ideological alignment with us. Diplomatic feelers have been put out to the new government, though it may take time for them to be in a position to support us.  One of the locals has given us a hint. There is something deep within the mountains, beyond Ovdal Lodhum where the Obsidian Invasion began. The Dwarves allow no other races to enter so deep, and will guard it with even more ferocity than they showed us on the plains of the surface. However, by my count almost their entire army is pulled out of the mountains to engage. We have reinforcements distracting them in the south, and the Fleet is preventing them from communicating and sailing up and down the coast. We have one shot to end the war without it turning into the land vs sea conflict that I feared.  I have never seen a Dwarf Hold before, but it is a magnificent construction. Ovdal Lodhum in particular, seems to extend to depths that our troops cannot hope to reach, and is filled with buildings made of obsidian and decorated with gems that might value more than the budget of nations. Workings of dark artificery are everywhere, if only we had the time to stay and study them. We have secured the upper layers, after spending months fighting through the ironically named labyrinth outside the hold named the 'Tunnel of Love'. We have no hope of taking the entire hold, but this is not our true objective. Word from the rearguard is that Bulwar is almost lost once more. Aqatbar has fallen. There is no retreat any more. All the progress outside the mountains is undone in the time it takes to reach their capital. Dwarves be OP.  Hidden in cavern beyond Ovdal Lodhum, we found the secret. A vast, swirling vortex of energy that was surrounded by industrial workings, rail lines and other infrastructure, though it lay abandoned after our advance. If I am right, this is a portal that links back to the deepest parts of the Serpentspine, where the Obsidian Dwarves were lost for thousands of years, and now which provide manpower, resources, and most importantly something for their cousins to fight for. This will be our bargaining chip.  Though I was tempted to destroy the portal outright, I know that would only embolden the High Dominion to stop at nothing until we were annihilated. Though the Obsidian Empire is strong, the High Dominion itself is no small thing and could devastate our holdings on Halcann if left to rampage. Instead, we used it to win the Gnollish territory under Dwarven control, and massive economic privileges over their sealanes and ports that shatters their position of economic dominance. I do not know whether history will look back on me and say that I squandered the surface's last chance to stop their rise. Next time they will not let us march here so easily, but next time we will have grown ever stronger as the Revolution and Demon's Blood engulfs the rest of the world.  I have been reading the journals of my Predecessors, from Consuls, to Scourgemothers, all the way back to the Chief Admirals. One of them had a dream, of burning chains surrounding the world. We are already there. The Burning Ocean Republic undisputedly rules the seas. Demon's Blood flows where we will it to. Almost all the Gnolls of the world are together under a single republic where liberty and wealth are paramount, and countless peoples of other races enjoy living the Gnollish lifestyle and the strength it brings. Though some still resist our gifts, and the High Dominion will remain a problem, the future is ours to seize. To be concluded… Though we have not reached 1821, this is the final regular chapter. The three most-voted for goals have been achieved, more or less. There are now Demon's Blood ports in every corner of the world, Aelantir is the sole domain of Mykx and other Revolutionary states (barring a small corner still held by Lorent that basically only exists because we've been fighting other wars and got stuck with a truce after the West Tipney war), most of the Gnolls have been liberated (besides a few in Sarhal that we would clean up in short order), and we at least managed to eke out a minor victory against the greatest land-based power. There's maybe a few things left to do, but as I'm sure anyone who plays late-game EU4 knows, it becomes more and more of a slog, so I have decided to end it here. A preliminary vote for the next campaign in Anbennar will be put up shortly, which will decide which 5 will go into the final vote. Sometime this month I will post the Epilogue to close out the narrative for the Burning Ocean Republic, and then in December or maybe January the next campaign will open up for the final vote for a nation. Thank you for reading!
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Oct 4, 2023 21:01
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Haless - Preliminary Vote Welcome to Haless, a continent of spirits, tiger-men, martial artists, and the ruins of empires from recent memory all the way back to the Precursors. The High Temples hold ancient secrets, but what are the consequences for those who seek to crack them open? A vast army of Hobgoblins descends from the mountains, threatening to overrun all who oppose them. Can one of the many eager candidates rise up to face them, and forge an empire capable of surviving a Rending of Realms? We have touched on Haless in both the Orlghelovar and Mykx campaigns, but only briefly. There are many unique mechanics, interesting pieces of lore, and stories to develop. The unique continental disaster is finally being added on the Bitbucket, so I hope that by the time this campaign starts up it will be ready to go. I have selected some interesting nations in Haless for you to vote on, indicated on the map below.  A- One Xia – Humans/Harpies/Harimari. In the misty hills of Xianje, the lands are ruled by warrior monks, who devote themselves to both meditation and combat. There are a multitude of schools, a multitude of races, and multitude of ambitious Xiaken masters. The Wulin watches over them all, but if they should falter then anarchy will reign until another rises to the top. If this makes it through to the final vote, a secondary vote will be held for the specific Xiaken we select. B- Azjakuma – Ogres. As they descend from the mountains, the Oni will corrupt the spirits and High Temples of Haless to their own ends. The Lefthand Path is the pathway to abilities some might consider unnatural. C- Verkal Ozovar – Dwarves. From a hold nestled in the Phokhao Mountains, tendrils of control and domination reach out and manipulate the nations of Haless like puppets. D- The Command – Hobgoblins. A stratocratic superpower that strives to see the world kneeling at its feet, if they can survive their own internal politics. E- Sunrise Empire – Elves. The township of Azkare is the only remaining Elven-ruled territory in the east following the collapse of the Phoenix Empire. From there, they dream of reuniting the disparate peoples of Haless under a single, benevolent empire. Still led by Elves, naturally. F- Feiten – Humans. A small, unassuming town in the coastal hills of Yanshen ought to be no match for greatest empires. The power of artificery can change that, as they seize control of the skies in airships. G- Nuugdan Tsarai– Humans. The tribes of the great steppes fight and pillage atop their deadly terrorbirds. Should they be unified, all of Haless will quake. H- Bianfang – Humans. For too long Yanshen has been divided or ruled by outsiders. It should unify under an absolute empire and raise walls against the monsters that lurk in the mountains and steppes. I- Balrijin – Kobolds. The great dragon, Balris the Gold, once dwelt among the Goldscale Kobolds, acting as father and protector to the reclusive people. Without him, they are lost, so to survive these troubled times their only choice is to seek him out once more. J- Dhugajir – Humans. The Raj is crumbling and the Command looms ever closer. The only way for the Elephant Lords to survive is to unify and unleash their stampede against any who might threaten them. K- Rabhidaraj – Harimari. The Grand Vizier of the Raj lurks behind the throne, doing their best to support a rotting institution. If the Raj is to be saved from invading zealots and monsters, it must be reformed, and the light of the sun must shine upon the corruption and evil within. Other. If you vote for this option, please offer up ideas for examples of other interesting nations in Haless (including both Yanshen, Rahen, and North/South Haless, but not including the Serpentspine). If 'Other' collectively makes the top 5 I'll pick the one I'm most interested in to include. Vote for up to three by clicking the link below. The top 5 will continue to the final vote.  Voting will remain open until the start of the next campaign. Feel free to discuss the options in the meantime. Sybot fucked around with this message at 21:55 on Oct 4, 2023 |
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Oct 4, 2023 21:52
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I- Balrijin – Kobolds. A quest for a dragon leader sounds interesting!
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Oct 4, 2023 22:30
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I'm all For airships and warcrimes
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Oct 4, 2023 22:34
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I- Balrijin – Kobolds Let us go find Dragon Daddy!
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Oct 4, 2023 22:47
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G- Nuugdan Tsarai– Humans. The tribes of the great steppes fight and pillage atop their deadly terrorbirds. Mongols but on birds sounds fun.
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Oct 4, 2023 23:38
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Flavorwise azkare are kind of fun, since you create a massive multiethnic Republic Azkajuma is super fun, corrupting the temples and loving up the world with dark magic Little gold kobold boys rock too - chase that dragon!
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Oct 5, 2023 00:23
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I actually helped write some events for The Command so that's my main vote.
Ibblebibble fucked around with this message at 03:55 on Oct 5, 2023 |
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Oct 5, 2023 01:25
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Man, I think if the Obsidian Dwarves ever figure out how to build good boats they're gonna run the world for a long while. As is, Mykx will certainly hang onto its empire for a while until the decadence sets in. I'm guessing there aren't any actual events for finding the pit of hell implemented yet.
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Oct 5, 2023 02:19
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One Xia has kobolds too, added a months or two ago on the bitbucket.
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Oct 5, 2023 05:38
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The Command has underwhelmed for most of the LP. So lets give it time to shine. Or glower I suppose?
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Oct 5, 2023 08:59
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Epilogue: Surface, Seas, Skies Aflame Airship Gan Haizhe, above Amussu's Grave, Salahad Desert, 1813  The clouds broke, and an endless vista of golden sands unfolded before Lhyz. She adjusted her goggles wrapped tightly around her snout, keeping the wind and sand out of her eyes, and gripped the railing of the airship tightly. Everything she had been working towards since joining the Kult of Deep Knowledge was coming to fruition. Captain Goeng called out to her. "Be careful! The air is clear but there may still be turbulence!" Lhyz ignored the Human, focusing on the uninterrupted view across a hundred miles of desolate sand dunes. Somewhere out there, it had to exist. The entrance to the Pits of Grillax were somewhere in the Salahad, and if she could find it, she could answer questions that had plagued Gnollish thinkers for centuries. Could they meet Xhazob and his host in the flesh? Or would they find the Pits a mere legend, the lord of the Host instead a concept and aspect of the universe, as the orthodoxy had been since the Revolution? She had to study the artefact once more. Turning away from the view, she strode away from the prow. The Gan Haizhe was two hundred metres long, a marvel of Feiten craft and engineering. Below the balloon, the gondola was maybe half as long, but impressive in its own way. It comprised three tall castles made of wood and steel, connected by sheltered walkways along which the Humans scurried as they kept the ship airborne. Massive fins made of steel inlaid with Damestear twisted in the wind, keeping course no matter the conditions. Gouts of fire burst from the lower levels of the castle, as the captured firebirds, spirit creatures of Haless, were induced to propel the ship forward as fast as any ocean-going vessel. Goeng was atop the forward castle at a massive set of controls, the only other person not taking shelter, and he seemed as in his element as any sailor of the Republic did on the water. His hands were in constant motion, adjusting levers, twisting dials, and tapping a series of Sending Stones that connected to other parts of the vessel. "I'm going below deck," Lyhz said, in her best Yansheni. Though Feiten had shifted from Yanshen's sphere of influence to the Republic's, it was still very distinctly independent and refused to acknowledge Gnollish as the lingua lencori. "We need to discuss the search plan." The captain nodded, a wide grin on his face, and tapped a lever with his foot. A hatch opened up beside his console, and a ladder unfolded that led down into the vessel. Lyhz descended and let the hatch close behind her. It was a relief to be able to hear herself think once again, and she went over the view of the desert again and again in her head as she made her way through the plush interior towards her VIP cabin. It had been expensive to hire out one of the most famous airships of the already famous mercenary airship fleet of Feiten, but it was definitely worth it. Not many would have accommodations capable of hosting Gnolls. The VIP room was built large enough for any of Halann's races, except perhaps the giantkin of frozen Gerudia. Luxurious furniture, paintings from the finest artists in Cannor and Haless, and cabinets stocked with intoxicants of all kinds. Alcohol, cigars, and even crystal flasks filled with vibrant green Demon's Blood. Those were of no interest to Lyhz at the moment. She took Demon's Blood from her own supply, dabbed a little into her snout, and blinked as sparks cleared the unnecessary thoughts and sensations from her brain. Opening a sealed chest that was out of place amongst her luggage, she pulled out a case made of Sapphire Glass, an incredibly sturdy transparent material produced in the hold of Orlghelovar in the High Dominion. It was the only way to ensure the safety of what lay within. It was paper, magical paper at that, with enough enchantment to have survived thousands of years without decay. Simply removing it from the Precursor vault had damaged it, so it was once again sealed with a marvel of modern technology. Written on it, in a dialect of Elven so old that it had taken months for a team of modern Elves to translate, was a description of 'a Mouth of Fire, where thousands emerge, and drag captured natives into its maw'. The creatures so described had to be Gnolls, and the location placed it somewhere in the Salahad. The Pits of Grilax were real, but the desert was vast and tens of thousands of years had shifted areas that were marginally habitable into indistinct rolling sand dunes. A chime came from the door, and Lyhz took a look at the Sending Stone mounted there. 'I'll be on the observation deck,' was the captain's message, written on it glowing letters. She tucked the sealed artefact under her arm, and departed her quarters once again. The observation deck was just below the VIP rooms, a platform with seating for a few dozen people surrounded by glass with a clear view of the horizon in every direction. At present, it was just Captain Goeng, pouring a bottle of rich, red wine from Eilísin. With a bit of an iron tang and thick texture, it was a favourite of races with a preference for rarer meats. He knew how to treat his guests. "There is a lot of sand to cover," he said, as Lyhz sat down and accepted a glass, "you must have a lot of faith that you'll find it."  The Spring Court in the north-west is different to the Kult, though they have similar colours "Faith is no longer a matter for the Kult," Lyhz replied, "it is about discovering the truth. And the truth is that the demonic power of the Host has real effects on our world. The old priests threw blood and bodies at the problem with no understanding of how or why Xhazob responded, but they left us a vast corpus of data that allows us to refine our understanding." "And now you're more enlightened," Goeng said. "Enlightenment is an ongoing process," she said, "we do not pray to a cube for answers, or worship a long-dead Dwarf, or supplicate ourselves to some overgrown cats. We delve into the depths of the universe, and recover the answers ourselves." "Through that powder?" he asked. "Precisely," she said, "Demon's Blood is how I will find the Pits out here in the sands. We have centuries of testimony of Demon's Blood bringing its users closer to the Pits, in spirit. Now, with a hint at its location, I can let it bring me closer in actuality." She placed her hand on the glass cover of the artefact, feeling the heat of the Demon's Blood and alcohol in her system pulsing from her fingertips. The was a connection between the words here, left by a chronicler in magic lettering millennia ago, and the expanse of sand before her. There were more descriptions in the text that might narrow down the location, but they were vague, and she felt no connection with any of the meagre landmarks poking from below the desert. She needed a stronger dose to draw out that connection between the words and her own senses. "In a way, it is fascinating," Goeng said, drawing Lyhz out of her focus. He was peering down at the sand, though there wasn't anything for him to clearly be focusing on. She let him continue. "Gnolls came out of the desert, lived on the edges of it for centuries," he said, "but now there's no race more widespread, besides us Humans."  Gnoll majority provinces are brown. Elves (light blue) might count as more widespread if you include Ruinborn, but the game doesn't. "Its not a matter of race," Lhyz said. She lounged back in her seat and finished her wine. "Anyone is capable of becoming a Gnoll. The Scourgemothers only thought of other races as slaves, but the Revolution changed that, and Gnollification has brought proper culture to those who'd otherwise have clung to the weakness of Cannor." "How would one do that?" Goeng asked, pouring her another glass. He froze as Lhyz caught the underside of his chin with a claw, the sharp point scratching his beard. "We are wild at our core," she said, "both in body and spirit. You should let your hair grow freely, and let Demon's Blood drive your pulse to the edge. Then, we layer our civilization over that. Our uniforms, our treasures, our finery, our modern technology. To be a Gnoll is to be a beast primed for action. Whether that action is diving into lost knowledge, indulging in the depravity of Demon's Blood, or tearing through an enemy army, is up to the individual." "Forgive me, ma'am, if I do not dive into it just yet," Goeng, said as he carefully extricated himself without getting scratched. "I saw you atop the airship, relishing your command of this vessel," Lyhz said, "I think you're already partway there." She pulled out a pouch of Demon's blood and extended it towards him. Goeng stared at it. He hadn't accepted any from her so far, but she certainly hoped that would change by the end of this journey. "Take another step in the right direction, and together we will tear open the sealed doors of knowledge." --- Ironclad Stormbreaker, Revolutionary Fleet 3rd Haless Squadron, fifty miles off the coast of Insyaa, 1820 The roar of rushing steam and whirring engines was deafening, even through the earplugs that Bert had stuffed into his ears. He glanced around the hellish chamber he had stepped into and let the clarity of Demon's Blood bless his senses. At a glance, he could trace the piping that carried steam to the vessel's primary engines, intuit the locations of all the wiring and control mechanisms, and most importantly judge the angle of the contraption that he had suspended high above the feeder for the roaring furnace. There was no light but the glow of superheated metal, perfectly calculated to remain on the right side of solidity, and the air was suffused with fumes that would leave his lungs scarred if inhaled for too long. He adjusted his gas mask and stepped onto the gantry, tugging on the rope behind him. "Come along, Gertie," he said. Gertie dug her hooves in at the entrance and bleated, though Bert couldn't hear it. He tugged again, unable to move her with his meagre Gnomish strength. Luckily, he had other means. A hook dropped from the entrance, caught Gertie by her collar, and started dragging her forward. Bert walked along the gantry, which rocked dangerously as Gertie flailed her hooves against it. He hopped through the steel necklace that he had constructed, undaunted by the vibration. In his mind, every motion was easily traceable and calculable, every danger was avoidable the moment he understood it. Below him, the entryway to the furnace belched green flames. He looked on with interest, watching the goat's growing terror combined with the increasing intensity of the flames. His experiment in bringing in a live piece of fuel was already proving fruitful. The priests of the old Kult had always used live victims to generate Hellfire, but the more humane members of the Kult for Deep Knowledge insisted that they needed to avoid torturing their sacrifices when experimenting with using animals. It was looking more and more like the substance reacted specifically to fear and pain. If he could increase the efficiency of the furnace by 20% or more with this, his name would be heard across the Republic. Gertie slid into place, her head slipping through the necklace, though her horns clipped it and very nearly knocked it aside. An adjustment needed in that regard. With a press of a button, it closed around her neck and the gantry under her feet fell away, leaving her hanging by the neck. She was alive, but on the verge of death. The flames roared, licking hungrily at her hooves. Then, a bolt shot from the collar into her spine and she went still. No need to drag it out, the point was proven. The necklace released, and her body fell, clattering and sizzling as it slid down the entryway and into the furnace. A near-explosive blast of green flame and hot air shot up, causing Bert to need to step back to avoid getting knocked off the gantry himself, but all-in-all he was happy with the result. He was still going through his thoughts on the paper he would write about this, when he spotted another engineer at the entrance to the chamber, waving at him. Apparently, his skills were needed elsewhere. After only briefly rinsing off the worst of the soot coating his body, he quickly made his way through the lower decks. They bustled with sailors working, stowing the cannons safely away, locking down stores of ammunition and sealing up the gunports. Through the power of Demon's Blood, they worked freely and fervently, not a slave in sight. When Bert had signed up for the Fleet, he had been concerned about some of the stories he had heard from the old days of the Scourge Empire, and while it had proven a hard life, it had given him the chance to travel the world and experiment in all sorts of ways. Emerging onto the deck, he was almost immediately soaked through with rain. It was heavy enough that the deck was awash with water as if they'd nearly capsized. The only thing keeping the interior from flooding was carefully placed sandbags at every entrance. The sails were stowed, and there were even sailors working to dismantle the masts entirely, which meant that the great Hellfire steam engine that he was responsible for would soon be the only propulsion for the vessel. Ahead of them, he could see it. The Stormwall, a vast, impossible, storm extending around an entire continent. Black clouds that reached from the water's very surface, to high into the sky, hiding a churning maelstrom of water and winds and rain stronger than experienced anywhere else on Halann. All to protect the continent hidden behind it.  Records indicated that the Stormwall had been weakening ever since the Day of Ashen Skies, and now the Republic was intending to be the very first to breach it. The Stormbreaker was outfitted with mageshields, the Hellfire engine, the latest armour and stabilization artificery, and countless more innovations all for one purpose, to reach that long-lost continent. He made it to the prow, where Captain Izz had assembled her Chiefs. She was ignoring the rain soaking through her fur, one foot perched up on the side of the ship and staring at the Stormwall through artificer binoculars. "Chief Engineer, you made it!" she barked, her voice cutting through the rain, when she noticed him. "With those little legs, I wasn't sure you'd make it out of your contraption and get here before we hit the storm," Aznah, Chief Navigator, said. Bert didn't say anything immediately, but hopped up onto the side, letting the calculations of balance and friction spiral in his head to keep him from plummeting into the waters below. Even with the extra height he wasn't quite face-to-face with the Gnollish officers, but just the act of defiance was enough to show his resolve. "If not for my engine, you'd be dead in the water, so don't talk back," he growled, prodding Aznah in the chest with a wrench. Aznah growled in response, but Izz just laughed, a whooping cry that carried across the length of the vessel. "The Fleet's never been one to sit still," she said, "if we didn't let new ideas on board we'd be stuck in the Ruined Sea, besieged by vessels twice our size." She turned to Aznah and joined Bert in prodding her. "Have you ever been to see the Trophy Fleet, on Graxarr?" she asked. "No, Captain," Aznah replied.  "There are more than thirty flagships mothballed there," Izz said, "and they run the gamut from the same style of Carrack that Mykx first arrived on, all the way through to the Ships-of-the-Line and even a couple of prototype ironclads. Every single one of them, we learned from, we stole, we copied, and then we started building our own." "Until the Revolution, then we took the lead," Bert interjected. "Indeed!" Izz exclaimed. She spun around, hands directed towards her ship. "Freeing the slaves, inviting the Gommo, and ramping up Demon's Blood production has brought the Fleet to where it is today. The Vanguard takes the cities, the corporations make the money, but we're the ones who rule the world." "I know all that," Aznah said quietly. Some of the other Chiefs chuckled at her foolish little power play against the Chief Engineer. "And now the Fleet leads the way to a new venture," Izz said, turning to point at the looming Stormwall, "Insyaa. The Precursors defended it well. Until this day no ship was capable of passing it, but the Stormbreaker was built for this very purpose." "To dig up all those Precursor secrets," Bert chirped up, excitedly. "We'll need to move quickly," one of the other Chiefs said, "the Entente is building their own ironclads for this exact purpose. Once we've confirmed we can pierce the Stormwall, they'll join the race." "The Scramble for Insyaa," Bert said, stroking his beard, which had been cleansed of its sooty contents and drenched flat by the rain. "That's what the Fleet's for," Izz said with a toothy grin. "Brave the storm, secure a beachhead, guard a whole continent from reactionary looters, we can do anything." She patted Bert on the shoulder with appreciation, which nearly sent him tumbling over the edge before she caught him. Her hand wrapped around his waist and lowered him back to the deck, "Chief Engineer, I want the Hellfire burning hot enough to sear a path through that storm," she said. "Aye, Captain!" Bert said, saluting. --- Pillar of the Homebound, Cófraire, Ceirese System, 6421 Ceirese Rholychi (1827 After Ash) Varilor síl na Cófra strode down the hallway with more purpose than he had felt in centuries. Each footstep came with a little more drag, a little more pressure on his shoulders. The magic that permeated the building, protecting the inhabitants of the central spire of Cófraire from the warping effects of gravity, was still reaccumulating in this old, near-abandoned section. There wasn't much point maintaining protection enchantments somewhere that had last seen true activity nearly two thousand years earlier. Magelights lit up at his approach, dimly flickering, though the diffuse blue light of Ceirese shining through the windows was enough for Varilor to see his way. He took a moment to pause at a window and look out at the sprawling settlement spanning the plains. Most of the inhabitants were the squat 'Darov', though he would never call them that to their face. They weren't really Dwarves, of course, but rather Elves who had grown up under the intense gravity beyond the spire's protection and ended up looking unfortunately close to the Empire's old underground rivals. Not that Varilor had seen a real Dwarf before, having been born long after the gateway had closed. Beyond the edges of the Darov settlements were thick forests with long drooping leaves that appeared orange in Ceirese's light. Fey beings dwelt on this world too, and his predecessors had no choice but to deal with them following the collapse of trade with the homeworld. To their credit, the Fey had upheld their deal and shaped the wilds to allow the city of Cófraire to survive, but at the cost of leaving most of the world wild and untamed. Varilor, like his father before him, had been seeking ways to stretch the terms of their bargains and tap into the resources that were being denied them. This incident could be what he needed to gain the upper hand, or it could shatter his rule completely. Someone had forced open the portal from the other side, and something was wrong with it. The Darov servants who had seen it activate weren't clear on exactly what the problem was. While his forebears had deliberately closed the portal during the War of Two, the final outcome left a mystery. Any attempt to re-establish connection from Cófraire's side had failed. Whoever had re-stablished the connection this clearly had great power, and if they were aiming to rebuild the Empire then Varilor might find himself in chains for his ancestor's rebellion. He was counting a more merciful victor, or maybe even a fractured Empire that would be hungry for the resources he could supply to their side if only the Fey were dealt with. The idea that it might not be Elves beyond the portal flickered across his mind, but he did not entertain it for more than a moment. "Report!" he demanded as he stepped into the portal chamber. He held himself tall despite the gravity making his spine feel like it was being pressed. The chamber was dominated three massive rings, the largest stood facing the entrance and the other two, slightly smaller, built into the walls either side. The side portals were intended for the transport of bulk goods between the city and the central portal. The runes inscribed around the rim of the primary, interplanetary, portal were glowing a sickly green, something like liquid fire dripping from within them and pooling in viridescent puddles below the portal. That wasn't normal. Specific patterns of runes flickered, the sign that someone was trying to open the connection. "We sent the no-go signal," one of the squat Darov manning the mage-interface said, "but I think they just took that as a sign that we're definitely active." "I will receive them," Varilor proclaimed. He reached into his magical reserves and conjured forth a mageshield of subtle deflection. Not so obvious as to cause offence if this was a peaceful meeting, but enough to deflect all but the strongest attacks if violence was the first act. The Darov got to work. Though the interfaces had not run in millennia, all it took was a small application of magic for them to function again, even the meagre amount a Darov could muster. Light circled around the portal as the runes lit up, each illumination representing part of the address of the homeworld that Varilor had never seen. Without any further ceremony, gouts of fire burst from each rune inwards into the empty centre of the ring and filled it with flickering liquid flame. That wasn't how the portal was supposed to work. Would anything survive going through? After a few moments, a figure stepped through. An Elf, naturally, with a rope tied around his waist that led back through the portal. He was dressed in a strange uniform, a long green tunic with purple epaulets made of mundane, magicless, cloth. He held a long wooden and metal weapon in his hands that also did not seem enchanted in any way, though a couple of sizes two large. It took a moment for Varilor to recognize it as a gunpowder weapon. No threat to his shield, though it was oversized for the Elven soldier. Yet, despite the lack of obvious magic there was an air of something about him. He was hairier than any Elf Varilor had seen, even among the Darov at the edge of the forest. There was a buzzing of distant voices that permeated the around him enough that Varilor could hear it through his mageshield. A radiating heat that was clearly unnatural and yet not from any magical enchantment. Something lurking within the pouch on his belt that drew Varilor's eyes towards it, even as he tried to avoid it. After a moment stumbling in the higher gravity, the Elf stood tall and saluted. "Greetings, I am Corporal Firesworn of the 21st Vanguards, of the Burning Ocean Republic," he said. His Elven was fine, but carried a rough undertone and strange enunciation, "as you might have guessed, I volunteered to test the portal." A republic? If the Empire had fallen because of the War of Two, that worked for him. However, he kept the mageshield up for the moment. Something was not sitting right. "Varilor síl na Cófra, Steward of Cófraire," Varilor replied, "what are your intentions with the colonies?" "I was merely told to confirm that the far side is safe, and that the Hellfire Transducers that our artificers installed did not incinerate me in the process," the Corporal said, his eyes wide and sparkling as though he hadn't just admitted that their 'artificers' (were they some new school of magic?) had just used him as a test subject for something lethal. He continued, "our emissary will follow me through." Firesworn tugged on the rope once, and returned to attention. The portal, having dimmed a little, flared up again as renewed ring of flames rolled out from the edge. Varilor motioned at the Darov attendants. They were going to have to take extensive notes, there were two thousand years to catch up on, after all. The fine details could be handled by the staff, while he put everything into negotiating with this emissary and securing a beneficial relationship with whatever kind of Elven republic had sprung up on the far side. The first to emerge from the portal were more soldiers in uniform, but not just Elves. Demi-Elves, bulky green beasts, tall furred creatures, even one actual real Dwarf with full beard, who gave a confused look at the Darov manning the portal. With each different race that stepped though, each of them buzzing with the same strange energy that Firesworn had, Varilor began to grow more nervous. Surely these were just auxiliaries used by the republic to bulk out their armies. Finally, the emissary came through. They were not an Elf. It was another of the furred creatures, but even taller than the soldiers surrounding her. Unlike their plain and mundane uniforms, she was dressed extravagantly to a degree that was over-the-top even to a member of the nobility like Varilor. Her undershirt was the most straightforward part, and even that was inlaid with gold wiring and glittering adornments. On top of that, she wore a dress of several disconnected layers carefully stitched with skull-based emblems that glowed as though powered by magic, with each layer rimmed with precious stones. The whole ensemble billowed as though caught in the wind, and did not seem to notice the pull of gravity. She began to speak, but it was in a guttural tongue that Varlior had no hope of understanding. Corporal Firesworn stepped forward to offer his translation to Elven, and Varilor had the sudden realization that the Elf's accent matched the language spoken by the beast. Elven was a second language to him. In the world that had come to pass, they were the subjects. "It is good to see civilization still exists beyond the portal," the emissary said, "our investment in restoring the Pillar of the Heavens should be recouped."  These beasts had managed to restore the gateways with their infernal magic, make contact across the void of the Astral, and the first words they spoke to him were matters of money? If it wasn't for the ominous aura that surrounded them all, Varilor would seize them with enchantments and pry the knowledge from their minds directly. Instead, he replied to her. "We are open to trade, but what can your Republic offer to us?" he asked, "it seems that we have outlasted even the Empire, and society on the homeworld has degraded to savagery." Hearing an Elf translate his words into the growling language did not make Varilor feel any better. The emissary broke into hooting laughter at his words, and fished into the gaps in her ever-flowing dress to pull out a pouch of something. Every pair of eyes in the room turned to it, even Varilor's. It was even more intense than the pouches the soldiers were carrying, like distilled darkness sealed in a simple leather container. "I would say society has improved," she replied, "did your Empire ever produce something like this? Consider this a free sample. Afterwards, we can start negotiating a price." Varilor stepped forward, letting the mageshield wrap around his body in a skintight layer. He dipped his fingers into the pouch, and withdrew them to find a few flecks of green powder stuck to the surface of the shield. His fingers tingled as though it was having an effect, but he could not work out what this substance was no matter how closely he peered at it with his magical vision. He brought the sample up to his face, still shielded, and focused on it further. He failed to notice the finest grains slip through the imperfections in his shield, and enter his nose as he inhaled. There, it began to do its infernal work. As Varilor's mind froze up and the boundaries of his consciousness began to expand, he could hear the laughter of the emissary. "Don't worry, we'll sell you as much as you want," she said, "we'll bring Demon's Blood to every world out there." --- Airship Citadel of Mykx, above Ilzin Mykx, 1833  From so high up, the capital of the Burning Ocean Republic, the city both literally and figuratively the centre of Aelantir, looked so small. The island had seen unprecedented growth over the last century, until there was no part that was not touched by urban sprawl. The small shapes of thousands of vessels surrounded the island, while smoke rose from nearby Graxilzin where the Committee for Public Safety had removed all the miscreants and troublemakers and placed them under the watchful eye of a Vanguard division. The sheer bustle of the Revolution's centenary celebrations was barely visible, with only the flash of fireworks below the airship reaching the ballroom cabin. The real celebration would wait for nightfall, when the city below would be lit-up and a mass consumption of Demon's Blood would take place. Most considered it an excuse for a party that had not been seen since the founding of Mykx, though the Kult was interested in what effects the unleashing of so much demonic insight at once would have on participants and the island as a whole. Zhaduura swirled her wineglass and looked out over the ballroom. The Citadel of Mykx was not as fancy as the Feiten airships it was based on, it did not have as many of the artificer amenities, but it was still an emblem of the Republic's progress. Armed and armoured better than all but the latest models of seafaring ironclads, it could take passengers anywhere in the world in luxury and without any risk. Now, its passengers were the high-flyers of modern society. Primarily Gnolls, but plenty of heavily Gnollified Humans, Orcs, Ruinborn Elves, and a few other races, among them. With wildly-grown hair, feral posture, and the appropriate loose but wealth-adorned fashion, some of them were only distinguishable from Gnolls by their height. It was a great victory of the Revolution, to bring all races together in appreciation for the supremacy of Gnollish cultural hegemony. "You're being unusually pensive," Ehn said, joining Zhaduura overlooking the mingling crowd. "Madam Consul," Zhaduura said, acknowledging the most powerful Gnoll in the world. "No need to be formal," Ehn said, "I know you're worrying about things."  "If the Entente were to strike now, we would be caught completely off guard," Zhaduura said, staring down at the array of ships. She imaged a wolfpack of G-U Boats tearing through them, or a full fleet of ironclads appearing on the horizon and causing hundreds of ships to sink attempting to flee and colliding in panic. "Most of the Fleet is still on station, you made sure of that," Ehn replied, "and I wouldn't have let you leave our business interests unprotected from the Entente for some ridiculous parade." The 'Great Serpent Entente', so named as it stretched from the Dragon's Coast in Cannor all the way to the furthest eastern reaches of the Serpentspine, had started as a loose coalition of three of The Republics greatest rivals. The sil Wex dynasty, ruling the Kingdom of Lorent and Empire of Anbennar, the High Dominion, and the Republic of Yanshen, all saw equal cause in opposing the further spread of Demon's Blood and Gnollish influence. The past decade had seen them grow even closer, to the point that Zhaduura's agents were reporting Lorentish warships armed with Dwarven cannons and led by Yansheni officers. Opposing them, the Bloodflame Accords, signed in Ilzin Mykx by all remaining nations in Aelantir, had brought the Revolutionary states fully in sync with regards to military and diplomatic matters. If all else failed, they could fortify themselves in the Western Hemisphere and hold out against anything, but the Consul was insistent that the Demon's Blood Ports across the world were preserved. "It sounds like you don't approve of the celebrations," Zhaduura said. She peered out of the windows at the colourful mass moving through the wide streets of Ilzin Mykx. They were far too high up to distinguish any of parade floats, balloons, or banners, let alone any individual among them. "The masses can have their party, for today," Ehn said, "but we, the ones who do the real work, have better things to do. As Consul I was obliged to attend, even in the middle of crafting a significant trade deal with the Shadow Trolls. You would rather be leading a delegation to Khozrugan, I suspect." "No, I'd still rather be here," Zhaduura replied. She downed the remainder of her wine and turned around, leaning on the railing. "The Orcs can wait another day, and they'll probably turn down our offer anyway. They're far too proud to accept Demon's Blood for their warriors." The wolf riders had swept through the Forbidden Plains and threatened to envelop the Serpentspine on three sides. If they joined the Accords, it would be a knife in the back of the High Dominion, but Zhaduura was almost glad that they were going to refuse, or war might break out immediately to pre-empt such an alliance. There were plenty of other flashpoints as well. Sareyand and Bhuvauri vacillated between sides, Revolutionary sentiment still simmered within member states of the Empire of Anbennar, and there had been clashes on Insyaa between Entente and Accord explorers. The insistence of the Consul on ever-increasing Demon's Blood exports into nations that were doing their best to clamp down on such influence was not de-escalating matters. "I know you're not just here to relax, snort some fine powder, and get a little blooded," Ehn said, a smirk crossing her muzzle, "what're you thinking?" "This is the light at the end of the tunnel," Zhaduura replied, "or perhaps at the start of the tunnel. If there's going to be a Halannic War, or even an Astral War if those colonial Elves start getting ideas, we need to show every sailor, every Vanguard infantrygnoll, every factory worker what they're fighting for. A world where they can indulge themselves as much as they want." Ehn laughed, and reached into her dress for something. "I like the way you think," she said, "a party before their bodies get ground up by the war machine and their souls get ground up by Xhazob, then the survivors get double powder rations and celebrate before it all repeats again." She pulled two vials out of her dress. One was filled with large powdery yellow clumps, the other some kind of vibrantly glowing slime. "A little teaser of what I have been working on," she said, handing over the vials for Zhaduura to inspect. Zhaduura was about to uncork the clumpy vial when Ehn held up a claw to stop her. "Careful now, this is real, unrefined 'Last Wish' pollen from the Shadow Swamp," Ehn said, "it'll put your mind into your ideal world, where all your dreams are fulfilled. It might last a few days, or the rest of your life. Finding the right dose to get repeat customers will be tricky, I was also considering adding Demon's Blood to insert just enough corruption and distortion into the dream that the user can break out by themselves. It's a work in progress." Zhaduura narrowed her eyes at Ehn. "And you were just carrying it around in your dress?" she asked, moving the vials just out of reach of the Consul. "I'm sure I can find a buyer with a taste for dangerous experimentation today of all days," Ehn replied, "this is going to earn us so much money." "What about this one?" Zhaduura asked, holding up the slime vial. "Almost the exact opposite," Ehn answered, "one of the Elven offworld colonies use it as punishment. They call it 'Brúarsid', and it will drag your soul down to the deepest Pits of despair, pain, and loathing." Zhaduura looked closely at it. Getting trapped in a paradise, or in a world of torment. The former would serve to get people addicted, and the latter could be used as a weapon. However, she was already getting an inkling of an idea for using the latter on her own people. "You're getting the same ideas that I am, aren't you," Ehn said, "I'd be happy to facilitate trade with the Elves to provide Brúarsid to the Fleet, if you'd like." Yes, that was it. If someone had already crawled back from their lowest moment, with the help of Demon's Blood giving them the mental resilience to do so, they would make an unbreakable agent in enemy territory. If it could be adjusted in the same way Demon's Blood could, they could make pre-battle-hardened warriors, inoculate sailors against shellshock, or allow factory workers to become accustomed to the drudgery of mechanical work. She held up the vials in the light of the setting sun. Worldwide and interplanetary trade was opening so many doors, and the advance of technology was only speeding the rate at which change was flowing through those doors. As new forms of artifice and mind-altering substances changed the way the world worked, the scope of conflict would only escalate. But then again, since when had Mykx ever de-escalated? From the begin they had traded in piracy, drug smuggling, raiding and pillaging. Then beyond that, fighting the greatest powers in the world to secure Aelantir for themselves and their interests across continents. For wealth, power, and ideology, they were willing to do anything. As blood was pumped full of alien drugs, gold was hoarded, and hellfire was unleashed upon land and sea, the world would be transformed, and all would get to experience what they had to offer.  Halann in 1833 The End Thank you all for reading. As mentioned before, the next playthrough will start in either December or January with a vote on which of the five that made it through the preliminary vote will be the subject of the playthrough. Currently the top four seem to be fairly set, but it is close-run for the fifth slot in the preliminary vote. Voting remains open, vote for up to three by clicking the image below. [I] Sybot fucked around with this message at 00:38 on Nov 1, 2023 |
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Nov 1, 2023 00:29
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Of course the precursor elves had Stargates 
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Nov 1, 2023 02:40
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We turned in to the British empire. Multi ethnic drug dealing naval plutocracy. 
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Nov 1, 2023 03:04
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Make the Raj great again.
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Nov 1, 2023 04:01
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This is my favourite LP. The writing is seriously excellent.
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Nov 1, 2023 04:09
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I'm personally hoping for kobbo adventures 
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Nov 1, 2023 04:31
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Pretty sure I already voted for the Command, so I won't vote again.
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Nov 1, 2023 05:12
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I just caught up on this again and wanted to say how great this thread has been. p.s. pick the kobolds drat yall
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Nov 11, 2023 23:08
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McGavin posted:This is my favourite LP. The writing is seriously excellent. RabidWeasel posted:I just caught up on this again and wanted to say how great this thread has been. Thanks! I've enjoyed working on this so much that I couldn't keep away and started working on the next campaign even though it isn't December yet. I don't know why I even suggested January was an option... The results for the preliminary vote are shown below. A poll for the final decision between Balrijin, Feiten, Azjakuma, The Command and Azkare will be posted as soon as I can. I'm currently being blocked waiting for the Paradoxplaza mods, who in their wisdom decided that each AAR needs individual approval if you want to include voting elements... As soon as that's sorted, I'll get that vote up. I'll be additionally crossposting to Spacebattles, so there might be more stiff competition on votes in future. 
Sybot fucked around with this message at 19:39 on Nov 27, 2023 |
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Nov 27, 2023 19:35
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Chapter Zero: Dragons and Demons, Flight and Fight, Dawn Approaches Sage Council of Balrijin – Legacy of the Golden Dragon  Gold Kobold Homeland The origin of the squat and scaly Kobold race is long shrouded in mystery. Most Cannorian historians place their emergence to the surface as a result of the Dragonwake, in the 6th Century After Ash. However, this claim is disputed by Yansheni scholars, who point to evidence of Kobolds existing on the surface since the Day of Ashen Skies, and possibly earlier. Equally mysterious is how there came to be three distinct populations, spread over thousands of miles with no direct connection and yet compatible physiology: the Red, Green, and Bluescales of the Dragon Coast, the Darkscales of the Serpentspine, and the Goldscales of Yanshen. Study continues into their origin and connection to their draconic patrons. During the Dragonwake, Balris the Gold did not rampage and conquer as his draconic brethren did. Instead, he made contact with the Goldscale Kobolds and uplifted them. Teaching them science, art and philosophy, he transformed them from a collection of tribes living underground in the Yansheni Hills to a burgeoning nation. Then, after just a few decades among them, he left. Though he promised to return, he never did, leaving the Goldscale Kobolds alone once more. In his absence, the Kobolds began to worship him as a god, and prophesised that his return would lead to a new golden age. In their fervour, a council of sages came to form a theocratic federation called Balrijin, which would be ruled by the principles laid down by Balris. Kobolds entered wider Yansheni society as equal members, in contrast to their Cannorian cousins still treated as monsters. They are considered a symbol of good fortune across Haless, and can be found in most cities. A breakaway group has even founded a martial arts school and joined the Xiaken masters. As empires rose and declined across the continent, Balrijin maintained some degree of autonomy. However, events have begun to catch up to them. The stratocratic Republic of Jiangdu attempted to conquer them, but was foiled by the Blue Scarf Rebellion, a peasant uprising that sided with the Kobolds and forced the army of Jiangdu behind the walls of their city. The Command and Oni loom large in the west, while the terrorbird hordes of the northern steppe are unifying. With their new Human allies on the rise, perhaps the time has come to stop waiting 78for Balris, and instead to seek him out. The Goldscales hold in their claws the legacy of one of the world's greatest beings, and whether their search is successful or not, they will make him proud.  Can Balris be found? Gameplay Summary: Cooperate with Human allies, conquer territory to search for Balris, manage six clans with their own interpretations of Balris' teachings. Moderately tall, defensive gameplay. League of Feiten – Ride the Wind, Rule the Skies  The League of Feiten The lands of Yanshen have long suffered under foreign invasion as empires rise and fall. The most recent of these, the Phoenix Empire under the mighty Elven conqueror Jaher, advanced to the great city of Tianlou, bringing devastation with it. Countless refugees fled south from the northern Yansheni cities to the quieter hills of the Jellyfish Coast. Building new homes among the fishing villages, they formed a League of mutual self-defence and trade, centred on the newly blossoming city of Feiten. As the Phoenix Empire collapsed, Feiten and its League members found themselves on the rise, forming a powerful trade network that brought wealth and power. Fisherman began venturing further out in the ocean, skirting the hostile storm-bound coast of Insyaa, and harvesting the bounty of the whales that dwelt in the deeps. Though the League has been steadily growing in power, it remains thoroughly eclipsed by its northern neighbour, the ancient and powerful city of Tianlou. Control of the mouth of the Yan River and trade links going back millennia gives their rivals a significant advantage in the struggle for dominance over the Yanshen Coast. States have been splintered and significant blood and gold has been spent on gaining even the slightest positional advantage. Recently, the League has come into possession of the city of Cuihiok, granting dominance of the tea trade in the south, but came at the cost of most Feiten's navy. If the League is to ever secure its borders, its waters, and its finance, it needs to find an edge over its rivals. Perhaps the secret lies in the whale oil that the whalers bring back in abundance. It burns cleanly and intensely, fuelling the annual Jellyfish Festival in which thousands of small balloons and floating lanterns fill the air around Feiten. As people look to the sky and see it filled with light, they begin to wonder. What would it be like to float among them? If one could sit above everything else, could they rule the land and sea from the sky?  Perhaps, the beginning of something… Gameplay summary: Very tall, with limited conquests. Customize airships with unique artificer inventions, utilize military airships for a different way of warfare, build skyports around the world. Azjakuma – To Scour the Spirit  The Demon Hills High in the Demon Hills, nestled against the far eastern end of the Serpentspine Mountains, four ogre clans dwell. Separated by thousands of miles from their brethren and forced to rely on increasingly desperate and dangerous dark rituals as they are hunted by the inhabitants of the lowlands, their forms have become increasingly twisted compared to the ordinary ogre, creating a new subrace, the Oni. Though considered monsters by the inhabitants of Haless, the Oni are keenly intelligent and studious, having preserved reams of ancient knowledge and devised new forms of magic over the millennia. Each clan wields its own unique powers in the service of personal strength, for that is the way of the Lefthand Path. While the Righteous Path practiced by the lowlanders encourages the personal cultivation of one's lifeforce, or chi, the Lefthand Path instead encourages it to be taken from others. Though the Oni to practice cultivation themselves, they just as eagerly seek ways to grow their chi, such as stealing it from the spirits of mighty temple complexes dotting the continent, or the ritual consumption of lesser practitioners. Times are rapidly changing. To the west, the Hobgoblin Command has seized control of northern Rahen and threatens to sweep across the continent. To the south, the Xiaken cultivate their power and are on the verge of uniting, while to the east a multitude of nations vie for control of Yanshen and an army of bird-riders prepares to ride south. If the Oni are to survive, they must adapt, grow in strength, and do whatever it takes to drive the peoples of Haless down the Lefthand Path and right into their waiting arms. The future is one of power. No matter the cost, no matter how evil the course, no matter if the Great Spirits rise up against them, all Haless will know the power of the Oni.  Power Overwhelming Gameplay Summary: Wield unique Oni magic to devour the strength of the land for your benefit. Corrupt the High Temples and drain the Great Spirits of their power to rise to even greater heights of magical prowess. The Command – The Marching of Boots  The Great Command As the Aul-Dwarov, the great Dwarven empire spanning the length of the Serpentspine Mountains, collapsed, the easternmost reaches fell to an alliance of Goblins and Hobgoblins. For thousands of years hence, various Goblin and Hobgoblin tribes fought in the ruins of the Dwarven holds until the Hobgoblins were able to play off the Goblin tribes against one another and secure their dominance of the underground. Their rule did not go smoothly, with the Day of Ashen Skies, called the Godloss by the Hobgoblins, Orcish invasions, a civil war against mages, and battles with the Phoenix Empire all threatening them. However, each crisis only strengthened and hardened the Hobgoblins to the point that their entire society restructured itself around military discipline. The old tribes became military Commands, where strategic acumen and tactical cunning determined one's political station. These Commands steadily merged, until only three remained. The Lion, Wolf and Boar, all answering to a Grand Marshal leading the Great Command. Under the Grand Marshal Moguwon Wolfborn the Hobgoblins descended from the mountains with an army of enslaved Goblins and Orcs at their side. The nations of the Shamakhad plains in northern Rahen stood no chance, for this was no tide of rampaging monsters but a carefully oiled military machine greater than any other single force in a divided Haless. The Grand Marshal now looks out over his conquests, and imagines all the peoples of Haless, and perhaps beyond, kneeling at his feet. However, the lesser Commands still jockey for power and the neighbouring nations of Haless are rallying against his shocking success. Balancing both internal and external politics will be necessary if the Great Command is to bring unity to the world. Faith is not necessary. The Gods are dead. Magic is not necessary. It will be snuffed out. Only unity is necessary to survive and conquer. Unity by family, strength, discipline, and order.  The Many Commands Gameplay Summary: Build an unyielding military machine that must keep moving lest it turn against itself. Manage three, later even more, commands who must be kept appeased if the machine is to be kept moving. Very wide gameplay. Azkare Township – The Sun Rises  Remnant Townships The Phoenix Empire was a dream. In a world reeling from attacks by barbarian monsters and insane sorcerers, lacking the leadership the Precursors had once ruled with, the Empire offered stability and safety to all the civilized peoples of the world, under the benevolent rule of Jaher, an Elf proclaimed to be the Sun-God reborn. As it stretched from Cannor to Haless, Elven legions drove the monsters into the deserts and mountains, and a great Golden Highway carried goods further than had ever been seen in history. And then Jaher died, his conquest incomplete. His son, Jaerel, fought for a decade to keep the Empire in Haless from splintering, only to perish himself. With his death, any hope of the Phoenix Empire maintaining its grip on the world slipped away. Haless was abandoned, and while the Empire lingered a bit longer in Bulwar and Cannor the dream of Elven-led unity ended. Haless returned to a fractured state, with polities squabbling for the scraps that the Empire had left behind. Among these, in the borderlands of what had once been territory of the Phoenix Empire, the Kai Townships held out, keeping firm to their independence and their newly-found democratic tradition. Within the territory of one of these, the township of Azkare, lies the Citadel of the Dawn, a fortress laid down in the days of the Empire and still hosting a significant number of Elves who had remained when the Empire crumbled. From this population emerged Hiderion, an Elven warrior who faithfully protected Azkare for decades. So beloved he became, that the Human majority of Azkare elected him their Lord in 1438. His reforms began immediately. Lessons had to be learned from the failures of the Empire's past. With only a tiny population of Elves remaining in the east, they could not rely on the overwhelming power that Jaher and Jaerel could wield. The peoples needed their place within the ruling structure of the nation, or else it would inevitably fall to infighting once more. Under the guidance of the Elves, a new, better, society could be formed. Threats abound, both near and far, and building a political system that takes all its citizen's wants into account and allows their cultures to flourish will be a great challenge, but Hiderion believes that he can do. He must, for that is the only way that the dream of a peaceful, unified, and prosperous Haless can come to fruition. The sun will rise again.  The Sunrise Convocation Gameplay Summary: Very wide gameplay, but with a focus on politics and diplomacy. Gain unique buffs depending on how well represented different cultures are within the Sunrise Convocation and the military. Vote The time has come to pick which of these factions we will be playing. You may only vote for a single choice. Cast your vote by clicking on the image below. Voting will last 72 hours
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Nov 30, 2023 17:40
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Can the kobolds learn kungfu? Please say the kobolds can learn kungfu.
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Nov 30, 2023 18:21
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CommissarMega posted:Can the kobolds learn kungfu? Please say the kobolds can learn kungfu. Kungfu Kobolds were added in the most recent update to the mod, and would have been an option had One Xia made it to the final five. I'm sure I can find a place for them in the story if we interact with them.
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Nov 30, 2023 18:23
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Sybot posted:Kungfu Kobolds were added in the most recent update to the mod, and would have been an option had One Xia made it to the final five. I'm sure I can find a place for them in the story if we interact with them. Man, if I knew that Kungfu Kobolds were elsewhere, I'd have voted for them  Maybe the next game!
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Nov 30, 2023 18:48
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CommissarMega posted:Man, if I knew that Kungfu Kobolds were elsewhere, I'd have voted for them Balrijin also has Kungfu Kobolds, but it isn't their main focus.
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Nov 30, 2023 19:12
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Let's do some Elven Democracy, that premise is neat af. I feel like I know very little about elves in this setting and this option seems like it will show off other peoples the LP hasn't focused on yet as well.
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Nov 30, 2023 19:50
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Azkare is neat and is arguably the most benevolent of the conquering empires, with mechanics that forces you to leave conquered cultures and religions untouched. They have a heavy dose of paternalism in their story though, and it only gets heavier the deeper you get in the mission tree.
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Nov 30, 2023 19:57
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Karanas posted:Azkare is neat and is arguably the most benevolent of the conquering empires, with mechanics that forces you to leave conquered cultures and religions untouched. They have a heavy dose of paternalism in their story though, and it only gets heavier the deeper you get in the mission tree. The original vote didn't call it 'Long Eared Man's Burden' for nothing...
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Nov 30, 2023 19:58
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I really wanted the skybird Mongols but I guess now I'm going all in on kobolds.
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Nov 30, 2023 19:59
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Sybot posted:The original vote didn't call it 'Long Eared Man's Burden' for nothing... The hilarious thing is that I'm pretty sure that in the canon, the entire mission tree is nothing more than Hiderion's daydream.
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Nov 30, 2023 20:02
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Nov 30, 2023 21:17
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I voted for Balris but they're all good choices.
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Nov 30, 2023 21:21
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Balraijin mostly does artificing. Kobolds love guns.
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Nov 30, 2023 21:58
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Is the big calamity for the Oni killing all the spirits in yet?
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Dec 1, 2023 01:00
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I voted for the Command because I wrote some of the events for them.
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Dec 1, 2023 01:37
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wiegieman posted:Balraijin mostly does artificing. Kobolds love guns. Balrijin has absolutely no content about artificing.
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Dec 1, 2023 01:37
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Artificery is a Cannorian kobold thing, and mostly revolves around them replacing their body parts with magitek augments in a misguided attempt to bring themselves closer to dragons.
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Dec 1, 2023 01:55
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Bloody Pom posted:Artificery is a Cannorian kobold thing, and mostly revolves around them replacing their body parts with magitek augments in a misguided attempt to bring themselves closer to dragons. They added Malatora?
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Dec 1, 2023 02:03
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Pee is stored in the Balris.
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Dec 1, 2023 02:56
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Vote Result In an unsurprising turn of events, the golden dragon boys won with an absolute majority. Since this was obviously coming, I'm already halfway through writing up the first update so it should be up in a couple of days. 
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Dec 3, 2023 21:56
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