Total War - Mandate of Heaven

[GameOfChampions]

Clan Fuxi of the White Snake

Mor 18
Rep: Spiritual, Otherworldly, Ambitious

Spoiler: Gudites

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We have ever been your allies and friends! That you believe we would turn on you without consideration that one of your enemies may be trying to break out alliance is something we had never believed we would see.

What would be our goal here? Hit you just enough to cause a bit of damage and then suffer a brutal war on all our fronts? If we were to make war on you Gudites we would leave a smoking ruin with no chance to suffer your armies like we did to the mercenaries.

We will not send you anything until you withdraw your accusations.

If you break our alliancenover this so be it but we will not gravel and appease for actions not of our making. We are allies not servants.

Spoiler: OOC

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We will not be sending anything. You can make your call.

Spoiler: Gardeners

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You think us bloody handed while you ally with those blood covered warmongers peddling the wares of war when they aren't using them?

We refuse gifts out of wariness. Snakes do not grow without a healthy suspicion of free meals taken without the effort of a hunt.

We wish to let the harpies and Barbarians make their war upon each other and let us more civilized peoples stand apart. We have been suffering accusations of betrayal we do not appreciate and figure you have no taste for a war that suffers the small folk of the city.

Spoiler: Midturn

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As a final hurrah the ladies of the Clan venture once more into the spirit world, they have learned and benefitted greatly from their solo adventures but now it is time once more to bring the might of the Clan with them.

Tier 4 Inv VIPs x2, 8 Inv, 12 Mil, 4 Art, Tier 4 Mil VIPs x2, Tier 3 Eco VIP, Tier 2 Eco VIP, Tier 2 Mor VIPs x2, Tier 3 Mil VIP,
Tier 3 Art VIPs x2, 5 Esp, +1 Inv item to adventuring into the spirit realm.

Gain 2 random temp stats. Exchange 4 t. Econ, 1 t.Mor for 5 random t. Stats.

Pay 1 Inv/1Mor for god.

[Writtensanity]

Spoiler: Midturn GM Only

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Paying Pacts with:

Andvari - 3 ECO
Urubeshi - 2 ECO, 1 MIL
The Corcodile - 4 INV
The Nameless Shadow - 2 MOR
The God of Wildfire - 1 MOR, 1 ECO

Burning 1 ECO with the God of Wildfire for 5 Temp ECO

[neriractor]

Gudite Warcamp

Espionage defense: 17
Reputation: Barbarian-Spiritual-Martial

Spoiler: Clan Fuxi

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"And on how many fronts, pray tell, would that war come? would the Gardeners renounce their vows? The harpies change their focus? The Golden Guard retaliating? Pride today forces you to deny a measure with no practical cost, less you be considered a servant, how it may have forced a petty but deniable strike, as it forced our first fight."

There is an audible sigh

"The alliance will not be broken by our hand, who knows if it was already by yours* For what may come, you'll see"

Then the critter puffs away.
I may actually have something that can tell (I have some fancy gods), though I'd need an Eldan opinion

Spoiler: Hemminghock

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You nailed the lack of time at least.

And if something were to happen, Hemminghock will be welcome to stay as well, if you even want to, place is kind of a mess.

-Delilah Fairway

Spoiler: Gardeners of the immortal flesh

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We'll take your stock as usual cousins, right after we take stock of what the gods have in store for us.

Keep your eyes peeled too, I'm sure they will be most enlightening this time around.

Gulldr's warmth,
-Daghir, The Wolf.

Spoiler: midturn GM only

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Crow will investigate upon the supposed Fuxi stat attack.
Sirraeus, the True Sun will release all information on the Hemminghock family company, as per their ability description: once per game, at midturn, choose a faction. Sirraeus’ eye falls on them. Their current stats are made public for all, including all VIPs, the names of all their LTPs (with a short description of what they do, but not any rules details), the names and titles of all Gods they have pacts with (but not any details what those pacts do), all artifacts they have found.

Solyom, Leviatan (lvl 4 inv), the Shaman's bells (+1 inv) and 3 inv will explore the spirit world, with the auspice of the hunter : If a threat or stat damage is rolled while delving into the spirit world, it is negated and you instead gain an amount of t.mor equal to the damage that would have been suffered, as the hunters celebrate.

The bloodmage (2 inv) (reduces one stat by one when the attack comes) and 2 inv will make a portal to wherever Hemminghock made their wonder (revealed by Lucero Sirraeus).

God pays:
Chouvrian, Kindly Father Death 1t.mor, 1.t esp
Crow “Caw, Caw” 1 t. art, 1t. eco
Eldest earth Paid in victory (won the bloodmage)
Suroch the Devourer Paid in victory (captured neutral land) (subject to change if I find a god to eat)
Manat, the Immaculate queen 1 T.mil, must attack
Dalnit, Lord of Hunters (captured neutral land) Paid in victory
Sirraeus, the True Sun 3 t.eco.

[Eldan]

Midturn 12

No one musters.




The sun is blinding, the greatest light, and from the true sun, brighter than any Fuxi immitation, comes only truth. Know, then, mortals, the sight of Sirraeus, the True Sun, has fallen on Hemminghock:

Spoiler

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Hemminghock Stats:
Mil: 32
Esp: 2
Eco: 9
Mor: 18
Art: 26
Inv: 14

Cecelia Hemminghock: ECO 3
Tess Hemminghock: ECO 3
Halle Hemminghock: ECO 3
Fortner Hemminghock: MIL 2
The Conductor: ART 2
The Wanderer - INV 2
The Found - INV 1

Drown in Avarice: the Hemminghock have mastered economic warfare, and their financial power can shatter armies. Their economy is considerably more effective in stat attacks.

Human Resources: Hemminghock Eco VIPs can be used to more cheaply hire new VIPs instead of build stats.

Perfected Commerce: the Hemminghock profit from every faction that trades with them.

Manufactured Backdoor: any trade with the Hemminghock weakens defence against them.

The Hemminghock have no artefacts, except a single +1 Inv item.

The Hemminghock have five divine acts:
Andvari, Lord of Wealth, who grows the economy
Urubeshi, the Sacred Bull, who inspires divine awe
Crocodile, the Patient Hunter, who rewards the long view
The Nameless Shadow, who traps attackers in shadowy labyrinths
Ruairidh the Wildfire, god of destruction and regrowth

Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh [26]

Spoiler

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Apart from the gods you know, the Gudites also pact with:

Scavenger Crow, a lesser animal spirit. A survivor, who also has power over lost treasures. Crow rewards those who take (stat) damage, but survive and grants favour to his followers for destroying unique magical artefacts, because those end up in his domain as new treasures. He also grants his followers the ability to survey a scene of destruction and reconstruct what happened, gaining insight into how it was achieved and what kinds of powers were used.

Eldest Earth is an ancient creator goddess, mostly forgotten, believed by scholars to be aloof or asleep. She protects her children, increasing their defenses and healing their injuries.

Manat, the Immaculate Queen is goddess of indiscriminate slaughter and bloodshed. Her avatar is the Knight Belligerent and a pact with her enhances the Knight's powers.

Dalnit, the Hunter rewards taking on powerful prey. He gives a bonus to aggressive actions if the enemy has especially strong VIPs and protects against some major dangers of the spirit world.

Their strongest VIP is Daghir the Wolf, as expected, who by now is T4.

Their lowest stats are
Esp: 11
Eco: 5
Mor: 18
Art: 4
Inv: 4

The Fuxi's lowest stats are:
Eco 4
Art 5

The Fuxi Wonder is in the Heart of Dreams, the Morale Nexus, which presents itself as a temple floating on the waters of a still lake, which has a spring at its heart through which all the dreams of mortals flow.

Clan Fuxi [18]

Spoiler

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The heart, perhaps, resonates more with Nuska and the atmosphere in the spirit world than one might think. It extrudes strange strands of glistening black shadow stuff that stretch and circle around each other, producing beautiful, fine filigree. It produces 5 t.art and 2 t.eco.

Total delve (if I haven't miscalculated: 25 inv, 19 mil, 10 art, 5 eco, 5 esp -> 44)

After everything, the Clan Fuxi are still a family, still one blood, fighting for one cause. And now, they have taken the decision to show those night-skinned impostors who the real hunting snakes of the spirit world are. The battle is fierce, but as hundreds of leviathans, each the seize of a Hemminghock freight train, descend on the gathered clan to feast on their essence, Fuxi descends on them in turn. Just as the sun is Fuxi's, so is the spirit world, now.

Gain: 16 XP, to distribute as you please. 2 t.inv, 10 t.art, 4 t.eco., 3 t.mor, 3 t.mor
Lose: 1 inv, 1 eco, 1 esp to the dangers of the spirit world

***

A reddish-golden wolf's moon hangs low over the city. In truth, it is not a real city, just a shadow of one, a memory, where doors and windows and decorations are just vague shapes. The howls of gigantic wolves echo between the gables, and the invading Fuxi move closer together, covering each other. Then, the sounds change, first into screams of pain. Shadowy shapes flit through the shadows in the golden half-light. They are hunting human figures, tearing them apart.

Then, the light of the moon changes, a wave washes over it, and the sanguine glow gives way to pure, white-silver. And as the light changes, so do the screams. It is now the wolves, no longer shadowy, but outlined by blue fire, their fur and flesh charring away to reveal human bones. A woman stands in the moonlight on an open plaza, her hands raised to the moon, chanting. The spell is almost over, but enough of it remains to be learned by the Fuxi shamans.

Gain: The Light of Saint Raffaela


***

The door is right there. It has always been right there, in the corner of everyone’s eye. They just never quite saw it. It is simple in design, dark wood polished to a sheen, with a small brass plaque on it: “Negeb - Scribe to Gods”.
The office inside is narrow, barely two steps wide, and filled with books and scrolls from floor to ceiling, stacked on shelves several levels deep. Behind a narrow desk barely crammed into the small space sits the only inhabitant, barely half the size of a human, slight and gnarled, clad apparently in lanterns that are the room’s only light and an assortment of scrolls.
“Ah”, it says, with a thin, reedy voice. “Please, come in sit down sit down. I was hoping for a customer, with the Mandate of Heaven changing and all... wait, Ma'am, one customer at the time please, no, you too Sir, wait, oh primordials you are, oh NO!"

Devoured Negeb, Scribe of the Gods. Gain 1 VP.

***

All travels in the spirit world are symbolic. Six ravens, sitting on a branch, watching the seventh be devoured by an owl. This one is more than most. Giants, striding across the sky, their footfalls ringing with deafening silence. The images are disjointed. A jeweled dragonfly, darting across a pond. Some lasting mere eyeblinks, others seemingly days. The weight of the Earth and absolute, crushing darkness. There is no sense of progression, or cohesion. Flying, far above the world, free of it all. A room in your house you have never seen before, old and dusty. Then, a light, a flickering flame, far ahead, that stays from dream to dream. You see its shadow in the blue light, it is right behind you. Falling towards the blue flame, faster and faster.

Then, the gates of horn and ivory, which are the same gate, open and the expedition steps out, together again, over calm waters.

“In old times, mortals paid attention to their dreams”, speaks the flame, which is also a woman, and a serpent, and a pillar of stone. “Each king and general had a prophet, a priests, who would tell them what their dreams mean. The incense burned forever in my temples. Then came the foreign conqueror, and smote my priests and razed my temples, and called me a minor spirit, one of many gods of the night, and dreams. And now, you have taken my temples, and have come to devour me. This is the end of mortal dreams."



Devour Ashaima, bringer of dreams. Gain 1 VP

***



There is at the same time the hadean ocean and void. Crushing pressure and absolute empty night. Both are black, both are lethal. Here, she lies, the oldest and greatest. Coils larger than world shift slowly as breaths, minutes apart, pulse under black scales with the sound of thunder. She sleeps, but in her sleep, she dreams.
"You have grown much", she speaks, as an eye, larger than the Eye of Heaven, stars lidlessly at the gathered clan. "Devoured all my other children, the Leviathans, as is right. Devoured the gods, as they must be, before the world can end. All serpents are one serpent, swallowing its tail. But is not yet the time for me to devour myself, for the skin of the world to split and the new world to hatch. Turn away."

Spoke Illuyanka, Mother of Serpents, the Primordial Chaos. Gain 1 VP.

***

The Light of Saint Raffaela (Artefact)

Spoiler

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Saint Raffaela was the second Silent Saint, who invoked the silver light of the moon to wipe out an entire town of lycanthropes and chain them to death. Hers is the Verem Mortem, the True Death. The invocation of her light is a powerful spell, only known to a handful of surviving mortalists, and fewer now that they have left Ardakand. It is a curious binding spell meant for monsters, its effect stronger the more powerful the opponent.

With the Light of Saint Raffaela, once per turn, you may invest up to five points of inv or art into either an aggressive action or passive defence. It negates that many points of enemy VIP levels, out of either attackers, clashing enemy armies or active defenders, starting with the strongest enemy VIP. Due to the effect of the binding, the effects vary: Tier 1 VIPs can not be affected, Tier 2-3 VIPs are just taken out of the fight, while Tier 4+ VIPs are injured.

Hemminghock [Mor 24]

Spoiler

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Everything as planned.

Gudite Warcamps [17]

Spoiler

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The Crow's priests are, for the first time, uncertain. The attack on Gulldr's Mandate is incredibly well disguised, not just by mortal espionage, but by powers that equal or exceed its power. Details are hard to make out. There is an obvious culprit, the Fuxi, who were seen, but also a shadowy force behind them, moving false pieces. The Hemminghock? They can not say with any certainty.


***

The landscape is stark, but pristine. Knee-high Tufts of grass stretch across perfectly flat plains to an impossibly distant horizon, where barren mountains rise to snowy peaks. The sky is the palest blue and cloudless, the lake beneath a darker mirror. Far above, hawks circle the sun, in the distance, horses and cattle graze.
This place is known. All have heard the legends, know the stories of the Mandakh Khan, who conquered the Gods in the name of the Sky, forged the Mandate of Heaven and gained Imperium over the world and how, in death, he was laid to rest at Bolormaa, the sacred lake. These are those lands, or a greater version of them.
There is a yurt, standing by the lake, simple, white. The expedition approaches with some trepidation: the Khan, after all, was not a peaceful man. But the yurt is empty, long-deserted.




There is a chuckle. On a rock, by the lakeshore, lies a magnificent beast. A cloud leopard, white and silver, but also adorned with peacock feathers. Every child in the Empire knows him: this is Aq Bars, the totem spirit of the great Khan.
“Oh, you needn’t have worried so. He could never have stayed in one place, not even in death. He left these lands, not three days after his death. Me, I welcomed some rest. Well, there was the Hippo, for a while, to keep me company. But then he had to die, and turn into a serpent, and almost die again, and have all his people killed. He is still strong, but he is not... Emperor material."
Green eyes rest on Solyom for a while.
"Now tell me the greatest deeds of your kin, Leviathan."

**

Special: Signing this pact is publicly announced by the GM as an omen. Upon finding Aq Bars (and stating your intention to sign the pact) you gain 1 VP.

Offering: Aq Bars refuses to live in anything but extreme luxury. His living quarters must be spacious and adorned, his food extravagant, his entertainments varied. All in all, he costs 1 eco, 1 mor and 1 art.

Blessing: Aq Bars is a level 2 morale VIP at your service. Additionally, while you are bound to him, your faction gains your choice of the Imperial, Noble or Heroic values.

Solyom gains +4 XP.
Gain +1 t.eco, 2 t.inv
Rolled 2 dangers. Instead gain +2 t.mor
Gain the Manticore Cloak, a +1 Mil artefact

[St. Justicar]

GARDENERS OF THE IMMORTAL FLESH

The Artefactory had been the private domain of the renegade Legio Minotaurus for months on end, its foundries and arsenals remade into one great engine of industry. The months of mad experimentation at the direction of the Dominus Fabricator had left it full of half-finished masterworks, and the massive infusion of resources that had accompanied the Gardeners’ incorporation of the Legion’s upper ranks certainly hadn’t returned it anywhere closer to normality.

The whole district is one grand machine now, a seamless melding of worked metal and living flesh. Bellows have become lungs, hearts and muscles are now permanently entwined with the mechanisms they work, and the distinction between pipes and veins is entirely academic. The great machine reaches beyond the prosaic world, pipes and pistons turning at angles beyond mortal eyes and vanishing into the borderlands of the spirit world. Tanks and reservoirs fill without a visible source, a deep red liquid pouring into them from the much battered boundary Hedge.

The liquid is a rich dark red, more sanguine and vital than mortal blood. It sluices through miles of pipes, separated out into arteries and organs that dilute and purify it in turn, cauldrons where initiates and technicians add reagents and skim off strange and pungent effluent, and half a hundred other stages. The end results vary from week to week, from the temperament of the liquid and the particular processes it is put to, but the vials and casks filled at the final stage are inevitably put to good use perfecting the broken and wretched earth, one iota at a time.

INHUMAN – SPIRITUAL - HEROIC

MORALE 26

Spoiler: Gudite Warcamp

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Enlightening indeed! Sirreaues’ revelations are fascinating, and the Hemminghock army even larger than we had realized. The militarization of their control over commerce makes certain mysteries from the last months much clearer, at least.

Now that your expedition to the Shadow has returned, have you determined just what you will need to purchase? If your new mandate is secured in the new year, I can assume your need for warrior-constructs and weaponry will only grow.

Speaking of, if you’ll indulge my curiosity – your new Mandate. Do you intend to crown yourself empress and begin a new dynasty? Or have you some other form of imperium planned?

Spoiler: Clan Fuxi

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Ah, apologies for the broad phrasing. No, the bloodyhanded ones are the Hemminghock and Gudites. Assuming the blood of gods does not weight against you, I suppose.

But your proposal certainly has its appeal. If the warmongers batter each other to nothing, it would certainly pave the way for a more peaceful city. But if one claims total victory, refusing to accept it seems likely to go poorly. Do you have some plan to out-maneuver them and allow an alliance between us to claim a victory?

[neriractor]

Gudite Warcamp

Espionage defense: 17
Reputation: Martial-Spiritual-Barbarian

The fledgeling papers that documented the city's life and toil where more stumbling things that the graceful run of a young horse.

There were pamplhets all around before the Gudites came, of course, and if they left there would still be for as long as there were enough people to make word of mouth impractical. But in the eventful year these papers have blossomed, and at the heart of the ink that found its way around town was The grand library and its patrons.

Satyr’s “hunch”


Delilah had, as a consequence of her life, never really gotten a "hobby" in the traditional sense. Her precision tools always remained away from tiny bottled ships, disposed from the moment of their acquisition to a drive, to survive then, to thrive now.

Is not that she did not enjoy her work, she relished the arts and magics, the praise that'd come from without and within. Though she had never seen the day she bit enough, she had bit something sour.

Or so went the grumbling, alone or to whoever would listen, for the joy of crafts and research was slowly consumed by the endless paperwork and meetings that a sufficient purge would warrant, "sufficient" as the key word, no one knew how involved Hemminghock had gotten in her own industries but if her powder was getting a bad wrap from it she wanted them out.

Regardless, she found some free time (hoping the term encompased the entirety of her day like it used to), drinking the tropical beverages that money ensured would keep coming despite raging oceans and jotling down a crossword, a puzzle or a pun. She earned nothing, and only the apprentices involved in printing knew the name behind the name, but they spoke highly of her contributions and she had earned that hobby.

Trading tips

It had all gone great! Hernicles though, walking back to his room. He had been... decidedly aprehensive when called to meet the Gudite leadership. He had dealt enough with gudite leadership, Jahangir, Delilah and a number of local priests integrated to their fold were constant companions in the library, but the capital G was enough of a change to make him a nervous wreck for about an hour, luckily only starting after the courier delivered the summons.

Trading tips had begun self-explaining enough, with information of good prices in nearby communities, proper offerings on the road, trading ettiquete and what laws and tariffs were obsolete in which sectors. It was this last segment that had caused him the most trouble and the one that grew to encompass most of the ever larger paper.

Soon the simple list of laws and places spoke at length of the effects of those laws, of what he and the many scholars who started flocking to his dinner table thought was the obvious thing to do. The section was explicitely mentioned as a reason for the summons and he couldn't help but remember the laws and excesses he, as a member of the library, felt more personal and thus complained against more fervently.

He couldn't help but scoff at how exagerated his self of those few days had been, and all the time he had considered going on the only train and leaving forever. No execution, roughing up, or exile waited for him.

A polite (in the sense that the only fight that started came from a consenting duel) assembly of war leaders, priests, public officials, tribal leaders and a few folks as extremely nervous as him met him, the "Council of Charkrand" was to decide matters of law and principles for the Gudites and those under their banner.

The intention being that allies and then other factions would join them once the core issues were settled. After witnessing the first meeting he was convinced that was the right approach, as the body spent the longest time just figuring out how to approach the subject or what relations between the many factions to tackle first.

As he turned to the corridor his room lay in, the thought of who he was going to invite with him, as he had caused enough of an impression to be granted extra seats, dissipated and the nerves came back again, the light was lit, the door was slightly opened, and no candle kept that long.

With cat-like curiosity he crept forward, there was a few books in his hands, and he poised them to hit as a his feet pushed the door.

A mix of calm, disappointment and relief surged through him, heavily weighed to the latter, as the many enemies he conjured for himself were nowhere to be found, and the light came from the everburning lamp he had recently bought and neglected to cover.

In the neighbouring room, easily accesible through a concealed parting of the wall, Illus noted his arrival and took a second look at his message for a possible misreading of the code, it described a fictitious uncle's garden but for them it read (or they were sure it read): "Has some interesting ideas, no ruckus from established parties, keep watch until noted". And so they did.

Spoiler: Gardeners of the Immortal Flesh

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Glad you like it.

We expect our united mandate to be enough to keep peace here, no further bloodshed should hopefully fall upon the city, as such we seek enough to keep it*

We'll see, no group is as united as yours cousin. If an Adar is what Ardakand wants I'll give it to them, rest assured that however it is run, the new city, and the new state will have a place for you.

Gulldr's warmth,
-Daghir, The Wolf.

Spoiler: *OOC

Show

Alright, grabbing 3 P.Mor and eco price (4:1) and 3 at regular price (5:1)

Spoiler: Clan Fuxi

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Greetings Snake kin,

Your name is not clean enough to issue an apology, is not clean in any substantial way really. But there is a mask of divine intervention behind the attack, and with the knowledge that "the nameless shadow" has pacted with Hemminghock I was able to divert focus to bigger threats.

Keep to your attacks to others if you are sure further investigations will clear you and so will we.

[St. Justicar]

GARDENERS OF THE IMMORTAL FLESH

The Sempiterne had lived up to its name for uncounted generations. The eternal and unchanging house of the dead, overseen by the equally unchanging priest-dynasts of House Aranea.

Then the Carnival had swept through the city, madmen in horned masks leading angry mobs to pry open tombs and scatter hollowed bones without a thought to where they might fall.

When the fever broke and red-robed acolytes secured the desecrated tombs for the Gardeners, they were an empty vessel, hollow and waiting to be filled. And so they did.

Creeping, pallid flesh covers the grand mausoleum's halls and passageways, fine hairs and translucent strands reaching for any source of warmth and joining together in a passing imitation of House Aranea’s departed patron. What skeletons could be retrieved and reassembled lay in their alcoves, flowers blossoming from their eyes and coral-like growths entombing them more thoroughly each day.

A cool wind follows any who venture past the grand entranceway and repurposed altars, giving off a haunting tune as it whistles through the bone-coral. As they descend into the tunnels and catacombs, the music will hardly be the most worrying noise they hear – the Gardeners are merciful, almost above all else, and would hardly left the souls of the lost to fade away and starve. Especially when the resources to grow them new bodies are so close at hand.

Beneath the city, softly glowing fungus has grown into the runes and engravings whose secrets predate the first Emperor. The tunnels spread beyond the Sempiterne, a labyrinth beyond mapping – and great roots have grown reach out along every one. Hosts of rats and other pests seem to fill everywhere one might step, their eyes glowing gold and their flesh warped and strange from generations of subsisting on the meat of the root network they are now extensions of.

INHUMAN – SPIRITUAL - HEROIC

MORALE 26

Spoiler: Gudite Warcamp

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Then we shall look forward to the coronation.

[That’s 12 Eco and 15 Mor for 6 p. Mor, then?]

[GameOfChampions]

Clan Fuxi of the White Snake

Mor 19
Rep: Spiritual, Otherworldly, Ambitious

Spoiler: Gudites

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We hope your investigation at least cast doubt on the iron clad belief of our guilt in an attack on you.

We maintain dedicated to this alliance and in part ask that you allow our Great Fuxi to devour any unwanted gods in your pantheon.

[GameOfChampions]

The Epic of Fuxi

Hunger be thy name, immortal and ever growing
Fuxi the snake of white, moving through world and other alike
Tell us now of your hunts, the foes fought and consumed
To ever grow the snake, slithering through the hearts of Clan and foe

The Lady of the Clan calls to the ever hungry, begging
“Fuxi! Come to Ardakand, strife and conflict reign among the city
the gods return in force and there shall be hunting grounds like never before
let your Clan prepare for you feasts like never before as you move among us

The Clan delved deep and long, their Lady struck by malady
Their hardship met with success when they found the First for the White Snake
Eeyar, He who Flies Silent attempted to hide from the great hunter of gods
Fuxi coiled around the great moth, devouring them as they learned true silence

Through heart and eclipse the Clan struggled, meeting many foes
Yusamta, the Cobra in White cousin of Fuxi joining with her brethren
Events from the Otherworld and beyond attempting to slow the clans appetite
To curb the Great Snakes appetite for power, gentle Yusamta advised caution

Clan disagreed, calling on the many of Ardakand to feed their ancestor
First found was Eanhauma, the Caribou Mother feeding on flesh of her people
Embracing Fuxi the cannibal is devoured, dying by the sword she lived by
Fuxi silenced the voice of Eanhauma as their fangs sharpen and glisten, bloodied

An Old Toad rests in its eldritch mangrove, dispensing advice through ages
Fuxi comes upon the Old Toad, a snake in the grass of one of the Toads tales
Stories re-written as Snake consumes the Old Toad, making truth of the old tales
There is a Snake lurking in the grass

Through hill and dale the clan ventured through the Otherworld, searching
On the top of a great mountain they found an ancient stone, god of great mountains
Rhexbus, Watcher of Stone fought the Clan through canyon and spire a storm of stone
Yet watch no more Rhexbus shall, stone shattered by the White Snake and consumed

The Ladies of the Clan venture into the spiritual realm alone, searching
They find an ancient Imposter, the first, always changing and manipulating all
Yet the Imposter met his match among the Clan of the White Snake, cunning as snakes
The Imposter flickers through forms but all are consumed by the White Snake

Shaitans bloodlust cannot stop the White Snake as it searches for challenges
The darkness and blood seep through the Spirit World as the realm bleeds
It is there that the White Snake comes upon a figure crowned in blood and fire, Dantara
The two fight, fire and fang, yet when dawn rises the darkness is banished and Fuxi fed.

Fey trickery is nothing to the machinations of snakes, one day they shall be the hunted
The White Snakes descendants travel among the oceans of the Spirit world, struggling
They find succor at the feet of the Raunelm the Bountiful, no kind deed unpunished
The snakes bring Fuxi to the realm where she feasts upon bounty and kindness

Fey trickery and Fey might may have brought low the Clan in the mortal realm
Yet it is time for Fuxi to feast upon the flesh of the Fey, the Clan ventures to their Realm
Bringing Spirit Walkers and Hunters, always watching and following the Fey
Soon they shall bring the ever hungry White Snake to sate her hunger once more

Clear skies and moon filled nights as snakes hunt through the gardens
The Clan comes upon a feast for love, set out by the moons daughter as she demands
Yet her demands are for naught as the haughty goddess is set upon by hungry snakes
Fuxi devours feast and fear as the White Snake devours the servants of love.

Poisonous bogs and dark miasma lingers on the hunt as the ladies of Fuxi go forth
The ladies fight dark wyrms and poisonous worms as they struggle through the darkness
They find a robed seer sitting on the surface of the swamp waiting for their inevitable end
Great Fuxi grants that mercy to the unforeseen seer, devouring them them before the all seeing

Long halls and paper strewn desks await the clan of the snake, a forever office
A place of order among the chaos of the spirit realm watched over by the ever scribe
The rush for power, a snakes ever lasting hunger cannot be denied by the scholarly Negeb
Fuxi devours, leaving the place of order ever standing and ever waiting for its resident

Six ravens sit upon the branch, snakes slither below them as the clan approaches
A realm of the possible, ever changing and always in motion for the sleeping mortals
Fuxi finds the dreamer of dreams, Ashaima who brings the dream, and is unsatisfied
Hence the age of Ardakands dreams are ended, brought down by a snakes fang

The ancient opposition lurks under the waves of the spirit realm, older than the clan
The ancient wyrm, mother of serpents, master of Leviathans awaits the clan of the White Snake
Illuyanka fights the inevitable, serpent against serpent and fang vs fang, clan vs leviathan
Yet it is Fuxi that stands triumphant at the end, the mother of serpents replaced for ever more

Descendants of the White Snake desperately struggle to maintain their realm for Fuxi
Treacherous Gardeners and their bird like allies strike the Well of Dreams, fighting the true god
Corrupted vines and blood spread through Ardakand like cancer, driving the clan back
Fuxi departs filled with a glut of gods, slithering with its Clan back to the spirit realm… waiting

[St. Justicar]

THE LIVING CITY

Cancer, then, is quite literally trying to imitate a regenerating organ - or, perhaps more disturbingly, the regenerating organism. Its quest for immortality mirrors our own, a quest buried in our embryos and the renewal of our organs. Someday, if a cancer succeeds, it will produce a far more perfect being than its host - imbued with both immortality and the drive to proliferate.

-The Emperor of All Maladies, by Siddhartha Mukherjee

She drowns in cloying, honey-heavy light. The cold touches her new skin but does not burn; her lungs lack air, but she does not need to breath. Far away and too, too near shines a sun that is an eye with a great hourglass pupil like a goat's, sweeping space for weaknesses to improve, exploit. All the stars are eyes here, always seeking. Here, in Garden's domain, all the vast worlds care.

This Is How You Lose The Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Rejoice! A new world is born, and Ardakand is its beating heart.

Behold its workshops and foundries! Marvellous masterworks of intermingled blood and iron. See how they are built into the bones of the city, how their halls and towers extend down to bedrock and up to the firmament. Walk through them and see the many-angled doors and reflectionless mirrors, the boilers and assembly-lines built out into what were once the borderlands between empty spirit and lifeless mud! Feel the flesh and organs of the great Leviathan that encompasses all and is all, whose bones are the scaffolding upon which we have built paradise.

Join the City’s teeming masses, the Living bodies who thought themselves separate and unique, each a different dream of the Infinite. Once they were transient and passing, doomed to grow old and die. Once they suffered ten thousand miseries, of privation and want and injury and grief. Once their bodies failed them, their excellence limited by the crude clay of their creation.

Once, they were mortal.

No one dies in the new Ardakand. No one suffers. There is food for the taking, medicines and grafts to cure every fraility. Anger and sadness vanish like the morning fog, serenity and euphoria are the passions of the age. Artwork covers ever wall, parades and festivals fill the city with laughter and joy on every moon. The air is sweet and the waters calm.

The Leviathan was butchered at the creation of the world. It has not yet been born. Every Life is its dream, and now at last they have ceased to be nightmares.

The people of Ardakand labour for the joy and the passion and the beauty of it. Their factories are the future of industry, a perfected crucible transforming endless rivers of raw material into medicine, weapons and all the tools one could wish for to shape the world in their wielder’s image. Treasures to make the winged magnates and middlemen who peddle them to the world richer than any emperor.

Of course, the City’s appetite for stone and ore and a thousand more exotic reagents has long since outstripped its hinterland. Beyond its endless sprawl, everything within reach has been mined and quaried into a truly lifeless moonscape, or else annexed as impossibly fecund farmland and plantations of hardy, meaty crops. And so it reaches ever further.

Hundred-Handed Nuska remains ensconced within the city’s heart, his avatar a fountain of the living, breathing gold which defines the city’s walls and thoroughfares. From his forges come the city’s grasping arms – gleaming golden railways, each and every one a bespoke masterwork. They reach out in every direction, towards ore rich mountains and god-touched jungles and the towns and cities peopled by those who have not yet begun to Live. They are extensions of the City, doubly and triply blessed, able to withstand earthquake and artillery barrage alike. Once the railways have arrived, they do not leave.

And as parts of Ardakand, they bring the touch of the city with them – the spread of Life into the borderlands between worlds. Stations and supply depots grow of their own accord, bubbling and bursting forth from barren earth, or growing in the reflections and blind alleys of villages and towns, twisted knots in the skein of reality. Once a station has grown, soon it will have trains to service – great behemoths of living gold, voracious in their appetites and faster than any galloping steed. They bring red-robed ascetics, offering charity and solace to all who need it, and richly dressed merchants – agents of the Company offering the heart’s desire of anyone with something to trade for it. Mines and quarries dig deep, forests are levelled and fields overgrown – and first a trickle, then a flood of the dispossessed and impoverished board a City-bound train, and a life of endless labor and eternal joy.

There is no need for war – every trade is positive sum, every deal leaving all those who made it better off on all the terms they valued. The Living City approaches the world with outstretched arms and bared hearts. A more perfect version of all that came before, seeking to embrace and accept and encompass all it encounters. But some, parochial and blinded by superstition and disgust, might still resist it. Might seize the Gardeners giving alms in foreign lands and throw them upon the pyre until the sickly sweet scent from the incense and writhing tumours beneath their robes rests heavy in the air. Might set upon and butcher the aurum-eyed workers laying down the newest railways tracks, their resilient and hardy flesh bursting forth with strangling kudzu and razor-toothed rats as they fall. Might assail the trains themselves, blocking tracks or derailing them over chasms or robbing them for the riches they carry, depute the well-drilled Company guards within, or the tendrils and claws and toothy maws hidden within the locomotives golden carapace that can lash out when under threat.

For that, their are the Wolves. Outriders conquering in the name of their divine empire, of which Ardakand is the vital centre and crowning glory, supplied with all they could ask for and given any enhancement to body or mind they might desire when they return to the City or its outlying reaches, charged with the holy duty of ensuring its reach never ceases to grow. Despite the dangers of battle and the hardships of a nomadic life, their ranks grow endlessly – often by the recruitment of former enemies, those seeking amnesty and assurances that they may live as Lifelessly as they could desire and win whatever glory they might under a conqueror’s banner.

The Garden has taken root, its stalks shooting up to the stars, it trees heavy with fruit and its flowers unfurling in their sublime glory.

There is a life which is dead and not yet born, and it sees through ten thousand eyes.

[Writtensanity]

--- Now

Pennat was an honest man who had been doing honest work since his father had taught him to hold a rake. He had never lied, he had never cheated, he never took more than he gave.

Pennat and his children were starving, they had been for months.

Another night of half-dinner ensured that Pennat's stomach was gaunt and yearning in the morning. His youngest, a sweet boy in most ways, wasn't old enough to understand their situation. His oldest was unfortunate enough to understand it too well. Together they'd given their food away to ensure that the younger members of the family could eat.

Dawn broke when Pennat was still in bed. In previous years he'd been up with the sun, working the field to ensure that everything could be harvested by the end of the season, but there wasn't a point in getting up anymore. The meagre crop would only take a few minutes to harvest, and they needed the food too desperately at home to bother bringing it to market. When habit woke up up at sunrise, there was nothing to Pennat to do but wait in the shadow under his window, and carry the weight of a dying family.

His oldest slammed open the door to Pennat's room, waking their siblings in their small corner bed. "Father, come quick."

"Jie I-"

"Father now," Jie didn't linger, instead heading back out into the living room and then into the yard, leaving doors open behind him.

It took Pennat longer than he'd like to admit to get up, age and hunger were heavy burdens, but he eventually lashed a robe and followed Jie. He paused before going outside. Was that laughter?

It had been a long time since Pennat had heard Jie laugh, and longer since he'd seen so much green.

The barren fields of village farms were gone, replaced with a wonderland of root and vine, with fruits in odd, almost explainable shapes hanging from spiral, untamable trees that erupted between fence poles and out of the dry well. A dense cushion of moss carpeted the previous dust of failure.

Jie saw that his father had finally joined him outside and ran over to him, offering him a fruit the size of his head. "Isn't this incredible?"

Pennat cried. It really was.

---- Before

It had almost been enough.

Leigh cursed her luck as she counted the bullets left in her secret stash. There had almost been enough of everything to keep the Gudites out of the train station. Almost enough fire power, almost enough people, almost enough time.

Hemminghock had a glut of both horseshoes and hand grenades, but the saying still applied to them.

Leigh, for her part, had been awake for the better part of three days, fighting, shooting and running around the ancient remodelled courthouses to ensure that she wasn't the next bloody body thrown out into the streets. For the first day she'd been sitting pretty on the rooftops, taking shots and Gudite shield walls and hammering the supply lines from the sky, but those bastards just wouldn't give up. No matter how many holes Hemminghock guns put through Gudite shield-bearers, there would be another one downright eager to take their place. For each battering ram blown off a bridge, they'd scrap together another one and try the crossing again.

It may have not been clear to the Gudites trying to break in, but Hemminghock was running on a skeleton crew, from what she could tell, Leigh almost had seniority on the front lines, which was a terrifying thought to her and anyone around her who understood it. Most of the Hemminghock army were out on the offensive, so it had been the dregs trying to hold the Gudites back.

The Gudites were much stronger than dregs and dregs needed to sleep.

Leigh had been taking one of her scarce hours off when the Gudites had broken the station gates open and poured onto the floor. From a fortified position it had almost been a close fight, but when it was melee range Hemminghock wouldn't have beat the Gudites on a good day, and it certainly wasn't a good day.

The slaughter had been less absolute than it could have been, mostly by merit of the Gudite portal sending them right into the heart of Hemminghock territory. The defenders had places to run when the walls fell, but they'd been told to turn around. If they couldn't keep the Gudites from getting into the station, they were going to fight and die to keep them from tearing up too many of the tracks.

Leigh was all about fighting, she'd been less keen on dying for her pay-cheque, thus the running and rafters. Even then there wasn't much fight left in her; tiredness and morale aside, she'd counted twenty three bullets.

"Well, that's 23 dead Gudites," she whispered from her hiding spot before being realistic about her shot, "or sixteen," the armor, "twelve," and the fact that she didn't really have time to aim, "two ta three." She started loading her secret pile of bullets out of her nest and into her pockets. "Two an' three, twenty three. Practically the same number." Then, as she finished her work. "Girl you need to stop talkin' to yerself once you're outta here, people're gonna think yer nuts."

Better nuts than dead at least.

Leigh squeezed herself back out of the attic space of an old Hemminghock office and back into the rafters. She just needed to make her way back down to the factory floor, then she'd wait for someone to take a shot and get her licks in when the Gudites weren't paying attention.

----- Now

Chug thump chug thump

Pennat was overfull from the day before when the shadow came over the horizon, following the sickening sound that Pennat'd swore was his imagination. A billowing cloud of smoke rolled over the landscape as a monstrosity of industry and life made its way to Pennat's home. He didn't know the words to describe it, but to anyone who did still would have never seen a train like this.

The amalgamation of flesh and iron pulled itself across the ground, riding along a massive vine it laid out in front of itself with undulating sinew arms wrapped around steel supports. Acrid smoke billowed out of the thing, releasing a mixture of burnt flesh and coal across the countryside. Long feeler fines shot out the sides, running along the ground and pulling small stones toward one of the dozens of trailing cars of the train.

Pennant didn’t know whether he was supposed to scream, so he ended up watching slack jawed as the thing made its way to the edge of his farm before sputtering to a stop with the sound of dying lungs.

The vines of the train stayed clear of the fence line, wrapping around the freshly grown fruit outside of the property line and adding them to the ever growing bounty building in the back carts. Pennant watched the process with befuddled curiosity, and missed the shadows above him.

A voice came from the train.

“Rejoice friend and new members of the family,” the voice rang out clear, somehow uninhibited by the pouring smoke, “for you have found the reach of endless life! A place which knows no want, a place which has no needs, a place from which death and hunger flee!”

A heavy cloaked figured stepped out of the second car of the train, deep mossy greens embroidered with gold thread and closely wrapped to cover strange bulges. The sun seemed to avoid going inside the hood leaving the man it concealed in comfortable shadow.

“Rejoice,” the voice continued, somehow coming from both the man and the train itself, “for you have been found by the reach of Ardakand, the Hungerless City.”

Pennant watched the man approach, with each cloak covered footstep, the newly lush grass seemed to redouble its growth, responding and reaching out to the acolyte. He continued to watch, but he didn’t respond, even once the man had crossed the fence line. Pennant only stepped forward once it was clear that the man intended to approach the house, where the children will still sleeping off the stupor of their first feast in years.

“We come not to harm you Pennat, we simply offer the embrace of life that has eluded your homestead for so long. Was our welcoming gift not everything you imagined your life could be?”

Pennant didn’t know what to say, there was something about this man, something about the way he moved through the bounty of Pennat’s farm. He’d heard rumors about Ardakand, how they had abandoned most of the Gods and turned the city to gold. He’d also heard that barbarians and ruled the streets and blood spirits had conquered most of the districts, so perhaps his uncle wasn’t the best source of news.

“Father, what’s going on?” Jie asked from the doorway, the boy had grabbed the family sword, something Pennat’s father had used in the previous wars for the emperor. The boy stepped forward, “Who is that man?”

“There is nothing to feat child, you have been chosen to join the embrace of the ever-living city. You must simply join our prayers and-” the Acolyte stopped and waited as Jie started toward him holding up the sword.

“You get off our farm, whatever you got there behind you isn’t natural and-”

BANG

Pennant’s father’s sword flew from Jie’s hands, landing in a twisted melon in front of him, the rotten metal cracked from a bullet. The men spun to see a pair of harpies on the rooftop, the one with a smoking gun tipped her hat.

“Father, they brought beasts.”

“Now, that ain’t nice. We’re just here to ensure y’all have a constructive conversation.”

“Father, they talk.”

“I can shoot too. Why don’t you listen to the man instead of making me prove my aim?”

Pennant looked back to the hooded figure that had been speaking to them, he didn’t need to see his eyes to understand that he was glaring at the Harpy on the roof. Pennant held up his hands, “forgive my son, he’s a strong boy-”

“Father.”

“And eager to prove himself when he should know not to.”

“You have nothing to worry about Pennat, your days of worries are over.” In the time that Pennat had been speaking to the Harpies the Acolyte had approached and was now almost speaking in whispers. “The bounty of the garden can be yours, all you need to do is accept our employ.”

Pennant met Jie’s eyes just long enough to see the boy shake his head. Pennant swallowed spit and tried to ignore the years of starvation telling him to take anything they offered for food. There was enough on the farm now. “You can go, we’ve lived here for years and don’t plan on leavin’ home for… your kind offer sir.”

There was a pregnant pause in the air, only broken up by the overpowering heartbeat of the idle train.

“Very well Pennat, we do not force anyone to join us, but Ardakand does not offer its bounty to those without faith.”

The vines from the train surged forward and began pulling plants from the ground. Trees and vines that had sprung up the day before were torn from the cracking soil, their deep interconnecting roots erupting out of the earth as the train collected its bounty. Food and future were taken at an accelerating place. Jie stepped forward, Pennant stopped him before a bullet did.

In a moment the dream from a day before was over, and the farm was as it always had been, empty.

“Ardakand’s embrace is never far away, should you choose to join it,” the Acolyte added in their soft whispering voice before taking their first steps back to the train.

The harsh wind out the outlands carried hunger with it, blowing the billowing smoke from the train.

“Wait!” Pennant stepped forward, “I don’t want my boys to starve.”

The acolyte turned around and pulled back their hood, showing grafted flesh covering wounds from their months fighting as a member of the Heron’s company. “Then they never will.”

Another family was added to the writhing city.

–

Before

Everything had gone to **** real fast.

Leigh’d planned everything she could to keep away from the Gudites but after hour upon hour of getting harassed by the Hemminghock harriers as they flew over the Station and hid in its rafters, they’d been ready to turn around and fight back even if it meant some of the Gudites had died.

A lot of the other Hemminghock soldiers had gotten away once the fighting had broken out, spreading through the sky to regroup and come back once they thought it was safe to take a shot, but Leigh hadn’t been so lucky. She was kneeling on the floor of the half-broken Grand Ardakand Station with her bullets in a bag on a far table, and a Gudite bullet in her wing.

Of all the damned places to take a shot.

Not that she could have flown away if the Gudites had hit her anywhere else, soon as she hit the floor they’d covered her in nets and now they’d lashed her wings to her back. Hemminghock had thrown aerial supremacy around Ardakand for the better part of the year and it was clear that the Gudites respected it and had learned to counter it how they could. You got in range of the harpies, your first job was to ensure it couldn’t fly away again.

It was honestly surprising that nobody’d learned that lesson before them, but Leigh’d seen it play out in the West, nobody respected the highest ground until it was too late.

For what it was worth, the Gudites hadn’t killed her, or any of the other sisters that they’d captured since they’d pushed their way into the Station. They’d been clear about their intent, they needed to get rid of the constant import of Hemminghock reinforcements but they weren’t pushing for a war of attrition against the combiend forces of Hemminghock and the Gardeners.

Not that it felt like much of a combined force to Leigh right now, as far as she could tell, the Gardeners had led an offensive across the city and told Hemminghock to deal on their own.

That wasn’t quite true, some of the booze they’d been handing out for morale was from the Gardeners, so they weren’t completely useless.

A runner burst in through the broken grand entrance -it had been so lovely- and ran to find the nearest captain. It was lucky for Leigh that they happened to be near her so that she could hear the news.

“Fuxi has retreated to the spirit realm. They’re-”

Something had come in behind the runner, a twisted creation of metal and sinew that had scuttled along the wall, finding a vantage from which to deliver its payload. The rest of the conversation was shattered by cannonfire.

Leigh’s ears were ringing as the Gudite captain pulled himself off the ground and barked some orders, disciplined soldiers fell into formation despite having just been blown off their feet. Admirable.

“Let’s give ‘em hell! Yee Haw!”

Harpies clouded the sky as Hemminghock hires in Ardakand set up firing lines outside the station. Portals from the spirit realm tore open around the station and thick vines of flesh, sung to life by the Acolytes of the Gardeners grabbed Gudite war machines and ammunition, tearing it away just as they needed it most.

The last battle for Ardakand’s soul had always been a duel of pairs, one could not withstand two; as the Fuxi took the spirit realm to protect their way of life and their insatiable patron God, they had doomed the Gudites, who would bend the knee or die.

Hemminghock had lost their last battle, but they’d won the war.

—

Now

Hemminghock was used to ever-changing management, Harpy lifespans were short and, when she’d insisted on being sent on a second expedition, Cecelia had understood that she would likely never see home again.

It almost broke Gabby’s heart. Then again, from what she’d heard Ardakand was sending out more profit and resources than anywhere else in the company and were well on their way to importing resources from the other side of the old empire.

It was the perfect place for Gabby to take over, trained for the job as she was.

There had been a slight delay on the way. Her carriage had been stopped by some barbarians on the highway calling themselves ‘Gudites’ but they’d let her go once they’d seen that she was part of the family. It was sloppy to leave such people roaming the countryside, Gabby would correct that once she got to Ardakand, even if they’d explained that they had a deal to spread the word of Hemminghock out into the continent.

No, it wouldn’t do to have anyone like that. There would only be the-

Gabby’s train of thought stopped as she approached the river crossing before Ardakand. She’d known to expect something strange and magnificent this far into the Emprie, but she could have never imagined anything like this.

Ardakand was a shining beacon in the middle of the plains, a series of golden towers surrounded by sprawling factories, connected by vines thick as streets and sheltered by trees that sprouted from metal and earth alike. Steam and fire poured into the air above the city, whisked away by the wind and letting the sun pour down on the glittering city, a monument to avarice and alchemy.

It wasn’t a city of the Gods, it was a city that Gods would beg to live in.

Gabby exited her carriage on the walk up to Ardakand, stepping onto the golden cobblestones that replaced the dirt roads over a mile from the gate. Small, verdant vines ran between each cobble, filling the gaps with brilliant green as opposed to the dull tones of the earth. On either side of the pathway exotic, impossible flowers bloomed and swayed in the constant breeze that pushed the smoke of industry away from the city.

As a Hemminghock, Gabby had spent her life around wealth, but she looked up at the marriage of riches and nature and, for the first time in her life, she felt awe.

Gabby never reached the gates of Ardakand, instead, she’d found herself stopped by several workers from the city, who’d told her to wait outside, in the shadow of this monument to mortal power, for a meeting.

It was strange, but she was happy to bask in Ardakand’s glow. It would all be hers soon.

“Gabby,” the silk voice of Cecelia, greeted just before the eldest sister of the family landed behind the newcomer. She must have been decrepit now, it had been over three years since she’d left for Ardakand and she’d been on her last legs then.

But no, Gabby turned to see Cecelia, almost younger than when she left.

“What the-”

“Nice to see you sister,” Cecelia folded her wings neatly behind her back, some of the pure white feathers she’d had since birth had been replaced with moss green.

“Cecelia ho-” it took Gabby a moment to compose herself, to say that she’d been expectant and hopeful for her sister’s death was horrible, but true. “How?”

“This?” Cecelia motioned to Ardakand, “I’ll show you around, we’re stronger than ever here, we’ve made some wonderful partners.”

“No- I,” Gabby wasn’t sure how to word it.

“Ah, right. Yer askin’ how I’m still kickin’ and lookin’ this good.”

“Yes.”

Cecelia looked up to Ardakand, a city she’d spent so long looking down on. The glittering gold of the city reflected the sun, shining it off the pouring pollen of springtime. “It’s simple Gabby,” Cecelia answered, even though it really wasn’t, “welcome to the deathless city.”

“Cecelia.”

“To Hemmingho- Ardakand’s immortal future.”