[Game of the Gods] Empire collapse syndrome (IC)

[Demring]

Estimated length of game: 10 rounds.

Order of play, with some details

1. Slashy Mc Slash: Cruisius of War and Thunder)
   
   • The main city is called Kelitia and the people Kelitians.
   • Politics: Tom is the supreme patriarch.
   • Special concerns: Uniforms and weaponry.
   • Heroes: Bascoin Gascoin Wain-Wright, a scout.
2. Bag of Holding: Tsu'Qora and Kemora of the Tower of Crows)
   
   • Lands are called Myrk or the Greylands of the North.
   • Subterranean people, pale and short.
   • Politics: Matriarchal clans, all worshipping the Tower of Crows.
3. Eldan: Makago of Intentional Hardship)
   
   • The land is called Makagia and the people Makagians.
   • Politics: Radical meritocracy.
4. Stormthorn: Yarn of the Walking City)
   
   • Live on a Walking City the people call "the Slug". The people are called "the City-Walkers".
   • Politics: Three factions: Storytellers (led by the High Babbler), mechanics and a cult associated with the Slug-Pilot.
   • Military: An elite guard called the Warrior Poets.
5. Demring (facilitator GH)

[Demring]

Prelude
1000 years ago, the world had finally started regaining its strength after the second apocalypse (which occurred approximately 2000 years ago). It would develop into a new golden age, or rather, an orichalcan age, as the rapid progress was fuelled by the wonderful energy source orichalcum. One single bead of orichalcum contained enough energy to power an entire house worth of warmning, washing mashines, computers etc. for approximately 50 years.

There is some evidence that the material was known to man pre-A2 (before the second apocalypse), but the old ones probably thought it was hopelessly rare. They were wrong: A thousand years after the second apocalypse, the first few veins large enough to mine were discovered. The markets of the world were primitive at that time, but soon woke up to a desperate hunger for more. The price soared, and exploration became a very luxurious business. It didn't take many years before a cluster of veins were found in Orea, and with that, the orichalcum rush was on. The large island of Orea was flooded with a feverish migration of fortune seekers. On its most intense, ten million men — one tenth of the population of the earth at that point — swarmed in and around the "Ant's Nest" (as the mining complex was called).

Civilization was restored within the century. It was the most wonderful golden age in the history of mankind. But it couldn't go on like this for long, and the big mining corporations knew it. There was simply not enough orichalcum! It was widely understood as probable that everything would deteriorate as quickly as it had progressed! When the world population reached one billion for the first time since A2, it was celebrated rather grimly and full of depressing gallows humor.

This was when the mother of mother lodes was struck. The news wave caused maniacal euphoria in the people of the earth. Crowds gathered to laugh insanely in the streets etc. Tragically, the news wave was followed by a shock wave of immense destructive power: The huge deposit had somehow exploded! In fact, the entire island of Orea was blown up. The crater left by the explosion was huge, and quickly began to drain the oceans of the world, resulting in a deep, perfectly circular ocean with an island in the middle (the crater was large enough to have a central peak).

The shockwaves alone killed 9 out of 10 of the human population. But then came the soot: Enough soot had been thrown out into the atmosphere to initiate a 25 year long "Black Winter". The sky was grey; the rain was grey; the ground was black. Only 1 out of a hundred survived the extreme hardships of these early times. In 25 AA3 (25 years after apocalypse 3), there were approximately one million left.

Gradually though, the soot cleared from the sky, and life became better. The sun could reach down to nourish the earth once again. And the people could gaze upward in appreciation. When they did this, they discovered the most fantastic sight slowly being unveiled: The earth had gained rings, similar to those of Saturn!... Naturally, one of the first names they were given was The Rings of Orea — as they quite literally were composed of this island.

After the first 25 years, things bettered quickly. Most of the earth had been robbed of its oceans, and had been transformed into grey deserts. But where there was water, there was life. And it was flourishing.

The areas surrounding the "great basin of the apocalypse" was by far the most attractive piece of land on earth, but there were many great lakes elsewhere to sustain oneself on. Life had begun to revive. The days of soot-faced cannibalism were finally over.

Now, in the second century AA3, humankind was yet again starting to regain its strength...

[Slashy Mc Slash]

[Cruisius Almighty God of War and Thunder] [Round 1]

Sitting around the campfire with his 3 other companions, Cruisius decided he was bored as were the others of simple conquer the world games. Instead they decided this time they would delve into the world, and play for bigger points, and win with style, even if this meant loosing for a few measly humans.

The nation he chose to start to immerse himself with, was a rugged one. There was but one great lake and that was against its eastern edge, all water was pumped with irrigation from there, or dug with wells into the ground. Hills and rolling terrain was common, as were the metal deposits. The latest self inflicted apocalypse must have brought all remaining ore from the core of the earth closer to the surface as well as sending its ecological system back to the primitive times, before the humans recorded history for the first time.

Those he chose to be his play things rose to power and prominence fast and with power, harnessing his own ethics they swept across an area, at least 3 times bigger than the other nations, but of course this had draw backs for the humans. They grew to face this adversity; they grew to be around 6 ft 3 fully grown as a minimum, with the females reaching around 6ft 1.

The humans found an ancient metropolis and canalised it to fit their own needs. It was stripped of anything that couldn't be used and was instead put to their own use's. They named this city Kelitia, and from its centre they built a temple to me.

After the third mega apocalypse, most technology was lost. Although it was merely two hundred years ago, those who had the knowledge in their heads were the first to perish against the hardships, and libraries were burnt. Since then the Kelitians (named after their city) have evolved beyond this need, and instead view any such use of technology as demonic, and their patriarch has ordered extreme prejudice against it, and for users of it to be exterminated at all costs. So far, no contact had been made with other possible cultures, yet the Keltians knew they couldn't be alone, there had to be other people existing somewhere, even if it was near the crater of doom.

Recently the new patriarch had come to power, through a brilliant use of tactical skills on the battlefield, as well as diplomatic skills in the court he was named the next patriarch by the previous. Tom as he was called had crushed a rebellion against the old patriarch (Cristoph) and then quelled the other major power holders in Kelitia. 3 days after he came to power, a massive thunderstorm started above Kelitia, the biggest in remembered history. It lasted for 17 days, lambasting the giant rod, and all the energy flowed eastwards, towards the open steppes and only great lake in the Kelitians land, Tom ordered his army towards it.

"Whatever he who rules us decree's, lies that way, we must find out, and see if they are usurping his will." Tom's single line sent ripples of shock throughout the Kelitians, what if there was something out there, that wasn't like them, what would they do then?

The Kelitians have had extensive military honing, yet are very unreceptive to change. They don't like it; they have found what they are good at, and have simply made it better. Though unrivalled in wars, they are very untactful, and in delicate political matters they might make a complete mess of things.

Above all else, they pride their uniforms and weaponry. Every single person has a different uniform for what they do, if they are a foot soldier it will be a red uniform with a green trim for example. If they are a guard of a high ranking person, the uniform will be red with a golden trim. The patriarchs is the most impressive uniform, in theory. It is a brightly coloured pink uniform with fluffy edges and a white and purple trim, they are all of the rarest colours and materials known to the Kelitians, yet to any other person it would be quite a worrying colour for the leader to have adopted.

What is out there? (Open)

Forward of the main body of the army by a full two days if not more, Bascoin Gascoin Wain-Wright was worried. He knew his job, and had been silently stalking and scouting through the tall reeds ahead of his father and the rest of the army for two days now, and he had stumbled upon something which he knew shouldn't exist. It wasn't possible. There in front of him was the print from something, something so large he could lay down full length with his arms stretched out in front of him, and only just cover half of the print lengthwise.

He knew he was nearing where the army said it had to reach first, as he could see the glitter of a lake to the east about 3 days travel away, as well as smell the first of the water. Yet he was worried, he had once seen a giant shadow travel across his along the floor, yet when he looked up, all he saw was a huge bird, something that may have resembled a crow, but he couldn't have pinpointed it.

There was a rustle to his left, unslinging his bow and knocking an arrow he moved forwards, only to have something hit him in the leg. Jumping and stumbling backwards he looked down, and all that Gascoin saw was a swamp rat. He had jumped over a swamp rat,

How stupid, you’re loosing it old boy, come on now, lets do what we are meant to be best at and go find out what’s down at this lake.

He thought to himself, so he reslung his bow across his shoulder, deposited the arrow into his quiver and moved off silently further into the reeds.

[Bag_of_Holding]

[Tsu'Qora and Kemora of the Tower of Crows] [Round 1]


In the very beginning, there was a blinding flash of light in the northern horizon. Then, the light was no more- until It came. From the vast void in the aether a dark being spouted forth, screaming terrible words in the tongue that no mortal mind could withstand. "God is falling!" people cried in despair, as the sky turned blood red in the wake of its flight and the land trembled at the mere nearness of It. Its wrath was a great one- one that lay waste to more than two thirds of the land of the north. The land that is now known as Myrk, or the Greyland of the North.

In the very centre of the fall stood five great Towers of crude, black stone. With the tallest Tower in the centre domineering over the land, the people of Myrk came to recognise the Tower as the reminiscent of an Old God. and began to worship it.

All of these happened before the recorded days of history, a few centuries prior to the First Apocalypse. The Tower (if not its people) survived the First and even the Second Apocalypse, with minimal impact on its exterior structure. Deep inside the Tower however, something unspeakable happened. The Old God, the Fallen One had met its demise. Or so it thought.

The First Apocalypse

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The First Apocalypse brought about murders of crows from the sky. They came in pairs and flocks, murders of crows. Within 25 years of the First Apocalypse they numbered thousands. Those crows were vicious kinds, larger than the norm yet smaller compared to the Elder Crows that came later. The crows began to attack any trespassers within the 10-mile radius of the Tower, its number growing exponentially with each passing day. It was when a group of young girls from a nearby village went forth to face the Tower itself. Before they got to the base of the Tower, 6 of the girls were killed. They then went through the labrynth made of cold stone, climbing each of the four Lesser Towers in the process. Again, 6 of the girls were lost, fell to there death or simply disappeared without a trace. Only 6 girls entered the Greater Tower.

In the Tower, they saw a God. The very God that fell from the sky in the days lost in Apocalypse, the entity responsible for the obliteration of the whole Greyland. It was dying. With its dying breath, it called the girls to its lair... to consume their soul one by one. Five girls fell in this ruthless act. The last girl, a girl named Qaquarat did not die however. Instead, the Dying God entered the husk of a body and merged itself with the soul of the girl, laying dormant within her to rest. The first Seer was born.

With the partial might of the Dying God, Qaquarat was able to command the Crows to cease its rampage. The Seer chose 17 Crows to honour the young girls sacrificed for the sake of the Dying God and fed them her own flesh and blood, imparting them a sparckle of the divinity within herself. The seventeen crows came to be known as the Elder Crows. They grew to a magnificent size and lived for a very long time.

After 18 years, when the mortal husk of Qaquarat could not withhold the awakening of the Dying God, the Dying God needed yet another body to replace Qaquarat. Crow raid began anew, until the second Qaquarat was held, named after the first in its rank. So the Dying God laid dormant within the bodies of humans for a long, long time.

The Second Apocalypse and the people of Myrk

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To explain the impact of the Second Apocalypse on the Tower, one must know the full meaning about being a people of Myrk and what it is to live in the Greyland. The Greyland is a vast barren of a land, with sooty black soil covering the surface. A few blasted woods stand as a memoir of the wrath That Came, but to an outsider the land is completely devoid of life. However, beneath the dark crest the land is alive. There are 12 great Chasms centred on the Tower of Crows. Within the Chasm is where the people of Myrk live. They have built houses made of rough stones and woods in the caverns on the side of the chasms, some caverns as deep and complex as an oversized ant nest.

Deprived of the Sun for generations their skins take generally corpse-like hue with body hair almost unheard of. They are much shorter than other humans of the surface kind, females standing around 4'10 with more numerous males being marginally taller. While their poor living condition denied them of any significant technological development they have developed a different kind of civilisation that have aided them to exist for centuries. In the matriachal society of Myrk people practice the art of meditation to their hearts' content. They believe in 'living' within the dream as much as as they do in the physical land itself. The Tower is the symbol of the existence of the 'Far Realm', or the land of Afterlife. So they were quite content with their underground life, believing that as much as they are deprived of sunlight in the physical realm, they'll be blessed with unlimited amount of freedom in their meditative rest.

The people were divided into multiple Clans, each with Matriach (usually the eldest of the clan) acting as a representative to interact with other Clans. They all have different 'talents', some with more martial bent and some with talents in more mystical nature. With all the differences between the Clans, they are bound in one by the Tower.

Sure, despite their lack of any useful resources (the cave-fungi tasted horrible, for one) and hostile landscape, they had their share of wars with other lands. However, with the enemy supply line getting thinner and thinner long before the frontline got anywhere near the Chasms, and the endless raid of oversized Crows so far have managed to hold off any major conflicts.

That is why when ominous black cloud began to gather around the Tower and obscured the Sun, they were quite content with their 'Old God'. The entity blessed them with the protection of Crows and now it had again blessed them with eternal semi-darkness; a condition they were born into.

The Third Apocalypse occured like the other two. The land stood unaffected (as there was hardly anything to be affected) and the Tower stood in its place with murders of Crows circling its parameteres restlessly. As sure as a crow's wings, as people of Myrk would say, the Tower changed. There was a great earthquake and the opening of Chasms nearest to the Tower collapsed, killing most of higher-ranking Clanspeople. From the base of the Tower, another Tower sprouted! The Shadow Tower, as it was named, was identical in shape with the Greater Tower of the aboveground but underground. Since then, every Seers of the Tower cried out "The Tower is complete" as she ascended the Tower to counsel with the Elder Crows, its ominous meaning obscured in yet another startling discovery- a vein of orichalcum. The very mineral that blest the outsider world to its splendour and the same substance that destroyed it was in their hands! If it were to be known to the outsider world, Myrk would surely become a battlefield to outside forces...



Main Points:
1. The Tower stood in its place for as long as anyone could remember; it came before the First Apocalypse, in fact.
2. The Tower is remnant of an Old God; the nameless entity that empowers the Crows of the land
3. Each apocalypse had brought a change in the land of Myrk; first was the coming of Crows and the second brought the Clouds and consequent permanent semi-darkness of the area. These came at the cost of the Old God's life and influence to the living. It is now known as the Dying God to anyone who would be aware of its existence (the Seers and very few Clanspeople).
The Third Apocalypse however, brought 2 things:
-Another 'branch' of the Tower rose beneath the first one, completing the number of pillars to be 6. The number 6 is, as evident in the legend of Qaquarat, a number of significance to the Dying God.
-A small vein of orichalcum was discovered. If this result in a sudden boom of technology in this otherwise primitive land is still remains to be known.

[Eldan]

[Makago and the Makagians] [Round 1]

High Chief Magnus stood upon the Red Rock, his people's most holy site, and gazed upon the crowd. It was the only large rock ever found in the icy wastes of Makagia, Blood Red, as high as four men and completely flat. Only those of extraordinary skill could climb it.
"Is the Council complete?", he then called out into the cold winter air, a cloud of icy breath forming before his mouth.
Beran Ranksinger, the highest ranking bard stepped forward, to beginn the ceremony, for it was the bard's most holy mission to oversee the ranking of all Makagians. His white coat of Krenn fur was waving furiously in the strong wind.
"The highest ranking Makagians of the six tribes, the seven orders, the seven units and the seven professions are present."
He then proceeded to name the highest ranking members of the Makagians, all of them winners of countless contests of skill and wit.

Spoiler

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Beran Ranksinger of the Bards of Makagia!
Karash Wolf-eye of the Spirit Oracles!
Gorna Timewind of the Scribes of History!
Illiar Herbfinder of the Healers!
Krall Firemind of the Philosophers!
Sira Godblessed of the Priests of Makago!
Vren Silvertongue of the Emissaries!
Finngar Gapfinder of the Archers!
Eregh Eaglecry of the Scouts!
Khaira Thundercharge of the Riders!
Margoth Grizzlyslayer of the Berserkers!
Warna Truestrike of the Spearmen!
Hor Battlemind of the Strategists!
Thorir Mountainshield of the Guardians!
and
Landra Bonecarver for the seven professions of craftsmen!

Magnus nodded.
"As it should be! All are present before the high Council.
Makagians! This is a glorious time! The scribes tell me that the winter has been harder than any winter back to the time of my great-grandfather, seventy years ago! But Makagia survives and grows stronger every day, as it is our destiny, as foretold by the Oracles and by "Him Who Overcomes All Obstacles", the Great Makago!"
The crowd below him cheered. More than a thousand had gathered, with many more guarding the camps of the tribes. Not a single clan would be stupid enough to leave a single Krenn or tent unguarded when the other tribes were near.
"Ten years have passed since the last council. And so we meet again, to talk about the matters of the tribe. The Oracles will now tell us of the words of Makago!"
The old Karash Wolf-eye stepped forward. Unlike the other Makagians, his coat was not white, but dyed black, the colour of the deep earth and the spirits therein.
"I have seen a storm, brewing in the steppes, far to the south. When the storm has passed, an item of great importance to the Undefeatable Makago will be left behind. Armies will seek it. We will send only three, one scout, one spearmen and one berserker, for those who need an army to complete a task are not worthy to do so. A contest will be held now, to decide who will receive the honour to follow the prophecy!"

What is out there [Open]

Bascoin Gascoin Wain-Wright was surprised when suddenly he heard a voice, rining across the steppes. Clearly, this was a man talking. The language was his own, but with strange accent he had never heard before. Sneaking closer through the reed, he came upon the source of the sounds:
Before him, on a small spot of bare earth, sat two men. They were both of impressive size, but compared to their massive torsos their muscular limbs seemed short, especially the legs. All over their bodies, a mass of short hair grew, as white as the skin underneath it. Both of them were wearing strange armor, made from bones, ribs as breatplates and larger bones covering the limbs. Weapons and backpacks were lying on the ground next to them: a long spear, a leather shield and a massive, two-handed club.
And, strangest of all, they were arm-wrestling, grunting and cursing each other, completely absorbed in their duel.
"Come on, Karr, you weakling! If that's all you got, it's not even worth defeating you!"

[Stormthorn]

[Yarn, of Knowledge and Story and whatnot] [round table 1]

The Slug, as the City-Walker people affectionatly call it, was moving through a meadow. Or rather, it was moving over a meadow and leaving behind a wide swath of mud and loose dirt. The Slug had a tendancy to destroy any land it passed over while blazing a new trail, although luckily for the planet this wasnt very often.
On board the Slug activity was more hurried than usual. Many people where preparing for a minor festivle known as The Scribbling, which was designed to drive away demons that cause writters block. As a result the Storytellers where out in force, preaching or entertaining the people or reciting the articles of the High Babbler, who lead their faction within the city. Of particular Storyteller was also in the process of overseeing the marriage of a pair of upper-class young women. In time they would each find and marry a young man and then a final wedding would take place in which the two men where also married. It was a long and glorious tradition that was of late being quesitoned by the concept of having a single paring of one man and one woman (Many other lands practice this one-and-one form of matrimony and it is frowned upon by the City-Walkers). At this very moment one of the girls, the taller one with brown hair, was giving the other one a personal notebook as a sign of undying trust and companionship.
Deep below, in the bowels of the Slug, the workers where attempting to restore water-flow to a series of backed up pipes. They wernt working very hard because only about four-fifths of the city had water at any given time and the Slug was designed to be self-repairing...it just sometimes took awhile to get around to the task.
The forges on the slug where also in a state of activity, because a new class of Poets would graduate The Scribbling. Not any poets mind you, but Poets with a capital P because they where the elite guard of the city. Warrior Poets who needed weapons. Traditionaly an offhand swordbreaker and a simple wide-bladed shortsword for their main hand. They also all needed armor and because the second to last city the Slug had stopped near hadnt been willing to trade for ore the armor wasnt yet made. All in all it was a minor disaster for the smiths, whom where only grudgingly respected as being able to work metal rather than write.

High Babbler [glimpse]
The High Babbler (who had given up all other true names upon taking his station, but who had many psuedonems) sat at his desk, uncomfortable in his heavy chair, and mused about what he should write. His most recent successful essays had been a part of the Forum. The Forum was a large building in the city where people could have essays and opinions displayed to the public, who would then respond. Almost everyone wrote under pen names. He had been writing about the merits and problems of the practice known as Book-Burner-Burning. A rumor had gotten around that some of the essays where his, although their was much debate about which "poster" he was and what side he was on. He smiles remembering the event.
"Silly silly fools fall for it every time. That was a good one on my part. Imagine, me playing both sides and starting a rumor that i was involved and with no one the wiser. When this breaks people will remember why im the High Babbler. Darn this chair for Yarns tangles!"
The High Babbler was not amused by his chair at all. He tapped his nose in deep though as to what he should write about and stuck his graphite tipped writing stick to his fangs while his mind wondered.
"Its no use. Their isnt any hope trying to write with my chair...THATS IT!"
The High Babbler knew what to write about. The value of a good writing chair. He would publish it under one of his publicly acknowledged pen names and then people would send him new chairs. Then after that he could write something important...perhaps something cleverly insulting the *other* two powers in the city. That dumb pilot and his cult and the Mechanic and his crew. Yes, thats what the people want to hear fromt heir most beloved light of guidance.
High Babbler touched the cover of his pre-apocolypse tome, written by Yarn himself on something called "-ilpolish" or the like. It was worth a small fortune and was a good luck trinket for the High Babbler, who was, like all good writers, always looking to ward off demons that might hurt his power to produce prose.

[Clarifying something here. The City-Walkers are a very advanced people when it comes to reading and writing. A poor man on the streets will be at least bilingual and priests and quarter-lords are, for all intents and purposes, polyglots, and can read a all existing and some exticnt languages, although speaking them is less common.]

[Demring]

[Round one] [Facilitator GH]

Dark Ages on the Moon (glimpse)
Gregory went over the crop one more time. Those mega-insects he had heard had to be there somewhere. The battle to keep down the number of crop-eating mega-insects [approximately the size of a fist] was a matter of life and death for the family, but Greg was too tired, and convinced himself he couldn't find anything. He dragged himself out of the room, which was his last undamaged greenhouse, and went up to the observatory.

He loved lying on the floor of the observatory, looking at the Earth and the stars moving across the sky. He imagined that his great great grandfather had been lying on this exact spot when witnessing the apocalypse. What an amazing sight that must have been!

Greg took out his notebook. The Earth above was pitch black, and the view was great. Little points of light could be seen, most of them around the crater basin. Greg was meticulous in registering every spot of artificial light. This was the only indication he had to whether there was progress enough on the Earth to come rescue him and his family one day. It didn't look too good, to be honest. But every month or so, Greg presented a case for his family that significant achievements had been made on the ground. He made detailed speculations about what each new point of light could indicate. The stories he made up in this way was the hightlight of their entire existence.

Gregory was 40 years old, but felt like he was double that. It was not very healthy, living on soy beans and the occasional mega-insect, that was for sure.

[Slashy Mc Slash]

[Cruisius God of that flashy stuff in the sky] [Round 2]

What is out there [Open]

Bascoin Gascoin Wain-Wright spotted what he could only assume were his foes and he slunk backwards into the reeds and underbrush again. He started thinking to himself,

What would my father do, well that’s stupid. He’d perfect some awesome plan and kill both of them before they even realised he was there, but unfortunately im not that good. Now what are the actual chances of me evening managing to defeat one before being smashed.

Then slowly, whilst keeping an eye on the figures from about a distance of 350 yards a plan slowly began to develop in his mind. He was however still missing two important components.

They were obviously great warriors, but why defeat them? They might not be entirely hostile, best first to show them who was better. The form of a huge crow overhead gave him one idea of his plan, and then a leaping golden rabbit gave him the second as it ran past.

Bending down and picking a large rock up with one hand and slowly knocking an arrow with his other he shuffled back ten feet further or so and started to circle around the two figures.

After about half an hour the arm wrestle seemed to be going no where, both were becoming slowly more red faced and their shouting was getting louder and louder, he was sure he couldn’t even be heard but none the less he carried out with his plan. He threw the rock to the far side of the pair, then quick as a flash knocked his arrow and let it fly.

The one named Karr let out a howl as he dropped to the floor one way, and all his armour on his chest dropped the other way, the arrow had sliced through all bonds holding its front and back parts together cleanly.

Standing to run Bascoin shouted behind himself, “look out for the birds” and at that exact moment a huge dollop of crow poop landed on the other, what he would consider to be uncouth barbarian.

Then he ran, he ran back the way he had come as fast as he could hoping to make it back to the army before the barbarians overtook him again, he could hear them chasing him already….


Cruisius looked up at his other gods with a smile edging across his face, “That is how you do it my friends! Did you see the look on that humans face when that large pile of poop landed on him? Awesome.” With this he sat back and allowed the next to take their turn at manipulating the world and the humans.

[Bag_of_Holding]

[Tsu'Qora and Kemora of the Tower of Crows] [Round 2]


The discovery of orichalcum was as much blessing as it was curse. Of course, it would not have been such a nuisance if the Clan structure had remained as they were pre-Apocalypse. Prior to the Third Apocalypse there were 12 major Clans that ruled Myrk. Twelve, of course, was a number of significance to the people of Myrk- it was a multiple of 6, the sacred number after all. The Clans were able to exercise their influence over the land to keep each other in check, with emergence of a leader too ambitious being eliminated in the first place. The power was shared around equally, with the Seer as their Consul to guide and dictate the Clans with her absolute authority granted from the God itself.

When the catastrophe struck the land of Myrk, an enormous upheaval of land was followed by the Tower. The earthquake destroyed the openings of the Chasms close to the Tower- the area populated by the 5 most powerful Clans. The annihilation of higher caste was not the first time though, for the Second Apocalypse killed 6 of 18 Clans of Myrk. With their obvious link to the legend of Qaquarat, the remaining seven clans worked frantically to secure their position. Seven was an unacceptable number. It was an imperfect number, a number indivisible by all but itself and the almighty One- a selfish number, it was called. Compared to the generous nature of six, which was a complex union of first three Progenitor numbers, it held a significance too vile to be allowed to exist, let alone rule the Greyland itself.

After forty or so years of struggle for power, it was Samaya Clan that first secured her position as the ruling Clan of Myrk. Led by Matriach Nath'Ella Samaya, well-known for her uncanny diplomatic talent, the Clan quickly earned the favour of Elder Crows. The Clan officially secured its position by housing two of the Great Birds- an honour not granted in the last seven decades.

Samaya clanspeople were hunters to the core- they could easily amass a large amount of food to appease the Elder Crows. The remaining six Clans were not so lucky. Even after two centuries of shifting alliances, constant betrayals and undermining, it seemed impossible for them to eliminated one particular Clan without risking the total annhilation of Myrk itself. The Seers were of no help either; her term of six years was much too short to have any lasting impact on such a state. When people's faith begin to decline and prayer scarce the Qaquarat was held.

18 girls of random clans were again sent to the Tower in hopes to be chosen. The ceremony had already long became an act of desparation for the Clans to form a decisive stance against other Clans, its spirit and significance died out in the struggle. The Dying God was not pleased.

When the bell sounded, horn blown, people came out of the Chasm to hail the coming of the new Seer- except, it was, were, two Seers. Tsu'Qora and Kemora twins of Baqara Clan descended from the Tower with all 17 Elder Crows courting them step by step. It was a change, but a change too great for the people to accept.

The significance of the One was broken, as the embracing nature of the Two stood before them. People wondered- does the Dying God still exist?


Main points
1. Myrk had been in a state of confusion ever since the Third Apocalypse.
2. There were two Seers instead of One in the latest ceremony.
3. Two is not a vile number as seven may be, but it is not the perfect number of One either. People of Myrk begins to doubt the existence of Dying God.

[Eldan]

[Makago and the Makagians] [Round 2]

The Plague (Glimpse)

"They are all dying!", Scor complained.
"Yes, they are.", replied Dreal, the tribe's healer, his voice a lot calmer than Scors.
"So go and heal them!"
Dreal sighed. That again.
"We tried. Makago commands: Help the weak, so that they can become strong, but only if it does not weaken the strong. We did our best. Three shamans died. There will be no further help. They will be removed from the camp until they die or Makago heals them."


What is out there? (Slashy's open)

The hooded figure looks up from the campfire. "My dear Crusius. Your humor is as... hmm... extraordinary as ever. And, as always, you have no eye for the small details. Watch, and learn."

Bascoin Gascoin Wain-Wright ran away. He could hear one of the barbarians jumping on his feet and running behind him while the other one was mostly occupied with a varied mix of cursing, wordless shouting and spitting.

It was easier than he had expected. With his short legs, massive muscles and heavy equipment, the club wielding barbarian could not keep up with him. Bascoin remembered the way... right over there, the grass became even higher, nearly two meters, enough to hide any man until the angry barbarian ran right past.

Quickly sliding down the short incline which lead into the high growth, Bascoin smiled for a moment - until he tripped over the branch someone thrust between his legs. His vision faded for a moment as he hit the wet ground. When he came to, a third barbarian was kneeling over him, holding a bone knife against his throat. This one was female.

She was slightly smaller than the other two - but still larger than most men Bascoin knew - and equipped with a light leather armor which must have been white before she smeared it, and most of her skin and fair hair, with mud until it became a brown colour which made her particularily hard to see between the dry plants.

"Well, you are fast, I give you that.", the barbarian said to Bascoin in their strange dialect.
"Your archery skill is great and I have no idea how you did that thing with the crow. However, you should train your hearing. Sneaking up on you was too easy."
The barbarian removed his knife, still holding it in her hand. She had a bow slung over her shoulder and a bone spear was lying on the ground next to here, most likely what she had used to stop him.

"I am Khedra Leaffoot of the second family of the first clan of the third tribe, fifth scout of the Makagians.
So, what's your rank, little man?"
She seemed totally calm and in control of the situation.
Behind her, the second barbarian arrived, still swinging his heavy club.
"You know what, little man? I really wanted to bash in your skull with my club and make myself some new shinguards from your ribcage. But if a scout caught you so easily, you wouldn't be a match for a berserker, I guess."
With a sigh he sat down and took a waterskin from his belt, taking a sip.
"Karr is really pissed, but it won't kill him. I don't suppose you've got any booze on you, little man? I could use some and we have only water left."

[Stormthorn]

[Yarn] [Round 2]

[Scout] [open]
Der sighs unhappily. He is cold and wet stalking through a semi-swampland almost two days ahead of the Slug. It's a job for the man drawing the short straw. He wont even get to see the graduation of the new trainees because of this assignment.

Der shakes off his thoughs and creeps foreward in the marshy field of tall grass. He had though he had seen someone moving around but now that he is down here that conclusion was looking more and more doubtful. "It would suck," Der mused, "to have been chasing a ghost for the last three hours out here"

Ghosts. Der shuddered. They didnt exist and they still made him nervous. The fact that his only weapon was a shortspear wasnt helping. He longed for his swordbreaker.

Then he saw something. Flashe sof it through the six-foot high grass. He pushes foreward. It wasnt a person, for he had seen it as if it was still miles off. After a minute the grass abruptly ended giving him a spectacular view of...[someone else desiges what building he finds]

((too tired ot go much this round))

[Demring]

[Facilitator] [Round two]

The Three Cartographers (Glimpse)
They were only three left who were idealistic enough to stay with the Grand Project of saving old maps for the New World. These were critical times, something which served to sustain the three with endless energy in pursuing their noble goals.

They had to flee the old oasis because of raiders. This new oasis was tiny in comparison, just large enough to nourish the three of them. They set up camp and dug a small cave for all the maps, to store them temporarily, away from weather. Then it was time to dig the real caves.

First, the three men sat down to draw a proper blueprint. Then, they walked around in the desert, looking for the right kinds of stones. At last, they went to work, hungry as always.

The precious maps were safe now. This tiny oasis was far off the routes of any known civilization. They looked at some of the old maps for exact distances: About four days travel from the nearest known travel route! All three sighed of relief.

They lay down to rest below some palm threes, when they saw rain clouds, for the first time in months. "It must be that season", they reasoned, and rightly so, although calling it a "season" was misleading: It usually only lasted a few days.

But now, before the rain started pouring, the three spotted another seeping darkness on the horizon... First, they thought it was the shadow of the cloud, but no, as the minutes passed, it became clear that it could only be... a marching army coming toward them!

The three was numb with terror. One bit his nails, another pulled his hair, the third one started crying silently. They all had the same fear: That the army would notice them, or enter the tiny oasis for some other reason, and discover the prescious maps! This could be the end of their 200 year old tradition!

[Just to make it clear: The approaching army is supposed to be that of Slashy. It is very shortly going to rain in the desert, something which prevents the Cartographers from fleeing with the maps. And the maps: Among them are the most presice maps of the post-A3 world, with updated information about 95% of all human settlement, and only a small margin of error (mostly the position of nomads etc). Also, there are several well preserved maps from before the apocalypse. One of them is even said to be from before the second apocalypse, but that might be a rumor meant to inspire the continuation of the Tradition.]

[Slashy Mc Slash]

[Cruisius God of that Thunder and Stormy things] [Round 3]

The army, having recieved reports back from all but 1 of their scouts, pulls up camp and starts its thunderous march onwards again. Reaching the edge of the lake, they see nothing of intrest in anyway, except for one thing, there appears to be a more desert landscape on the other side. Something that they have never before experienced in their lives.

From the cartographers point of view, the cloud of dust is growing and on the horizon is a line of men, a line which stretches almost horizion to horizion, something that they have never seen before in their life.

[Scout] [Yarns / Stormthorn's open]

Der pushing open the reeds see's something spectacular and also finds it extremely disturbing. It would appear to be a warehouse of some kind, yet it was comprised entirely of metal and of glass. Walking towards it parting the tall grass infront of his eyes, he was even more shocked when he stood next to it. A single pillar of steel rose over 350 feet into the air above him and he had to crane his neck and stand back about 50 feet just to see its pinnacle.

Stalking around the edge, he see's behind it a much lower structure, this one appears to be made of a dull grey and white material, as hard as stone and as cold too when he touched it. He attempted to chip a small piece off with his knife, but all he got was a dull clang against the materical, so it was obviously much harder than stone. It had in it 4 cut openings, and peering inside, Der could see crates unopened with a long metallic device of some kind.

Walking back to the warehouse of sorts Der looks inside and what he see's shocks him. There are three, well uncouth barbarians to his mind sat inside with bone armour and weapons and a fourth man in the middle. He appears to be sleeping, but they may have beaten him unconscious. He appears to have no weapons on him, but there is a small stack to the side with what appears to be a fine longbow a hunting knife of some kind, and a sword which appears exactly the same as a swordbreaker of sorts.......