Year on lushland calendar: 33	
Year on timeskip calendar: 177

The summer was a pleasant one; warm air wafted gently from the north, the cold southern winds receding in defeat. The leaves of the bronzewoods rustled gently, accentuated with the chatter of migratory birds. The volcano had been especially quiet recently; there was not a spot of ash in the sky, and the ashland outposts were free of the ever-threatening ash-storms. The first of the harvests had already come in, the grain distributed among the city.

The latest expansion to the city was going well; Efts were working quickly to make space for their newest brothers. As quickly as they used up their bronzewood reserves, new logs were brought from the woods. The city was a flurry of activity, of cooperation, and of general cheer. It was the most prosperous season they had in living memory.

In the spirit of familial good-will, spurred on by the prosperity, a number of Efts and even some Newts had begun to create small shrines; tokens of appreciation for their mother and their lineage. It had not been widely adopted, yet, and remained the domain of random fits of familial love.

Mere shrines would not do, though, for their mother was the very reason they were alive, and her protection was paramount for the survival of their races. This unity of purpose would strengthen them, but only if the Newts and Efts knew the meaning of brotherhood - that the tribe’s members were family and that respect between kin was the basis of society. These acts of filial piety and familial affection reached the King of Clans, the Queen of Kin, and the Matripatrihierarch descended from Mons Divinus into the ashen wastes and verdant jungles of the Lushlands to behold this budding religion based on respect and love for the tribe and its chieftess.

At the city gate, the golden being, followed by simply dressed clergy of all races who held family dear and who were more or less accustomed to the climate, raised all eight arms in greeting and spoke: [colour=goldenrod]”Be greeted, o pious people of these volcanic lands. A hundred birds have sung of your kinship, and a thousand roots have whispered of your loyalty, so I, Chakravarti [i]vur[/i] Chakravarti, have come to see it for myself. Prithee open these gates - let me in to behold your familial love!”[/colour]

From high above in the gatehouse, the Guard Captain, a particularly large Newt, looked down upon them. He fetched a messenger bird, and tied a note to its foot; releasing it to fly deep into the city. He then shouted down, his voice carrying the authority of his office, “Chakravarti [i]vur[/i] Chakravarti, we have been abused by gods in the past; we must see to our family first. Our mother and our queen shall decide if your entry is to be permitted!”

The family god briefly oozed an air of surprise followed by a mist of annoyance, but shortly regained a polite composure and bowed. [colour=goldenrod]”Of course. It is only natural for a tribe to mistrust another tribe with whom no bonds of blood have been bound. I pray your mother is in good health and company - loyal are her children who consult her wisdom before inviting in the unknown. I applaud that.”[/colour] Four hands clapped with acknowledgement. 

The guard captain remained silent, his eyes set upon the god, until the messenger bird returned. He put up his arm, allowing it to land on his arm, whereupon he untied the message on its foot. He unrolled the letter, and read it to himself. Then, he cried, “Chakravarti [i]vur[/i] Chakravarti, you are to be permitted entrance; though you are barred from the palace and its grounds! Open the gate!”

Though there was a side gate, the guards went to work on the chains of the main gate; the wrought-iron portcullis slowly lifted with a great groan of weight. Beyond the walls; the city itself stood. Great bronzewood buildings, some fifteen stories high, densely packed between the streets. They were thinner than other cities; the Varasons no strangers to crowds and harmoniously living together in spaces that would bring fights in other species.

The crowd, though it seemed an endless sea, parted way for the god and her procession; helped along by guards. Their numbers seemed endless; stretching down every street in every direction. The golden giant entered with a triumphant aura of pride, followed by the clergy who all were bald and clean of any hair. The men were dressed in bright yellow robes and the women were dressed in matte silver robes. The youngest among them dared look around to behold the splendor of this marvel of construction; the elders kept their eyes fixed on the ground and walked in prayer.

Chakravarti themself seemed upset, though. [colour=goldenrod]”I am thankful that I have been let into the city,”[/colour] they said as they walked, [colour=goldenrod]”but how am I to meet with the mother - their source of existence and the leader of their clan - if I cannot go to the palace? Why may I not venture there - even I, Chakravarti?”[/colour]

A nearby guard spoke up, almost irreverently, “It is for your own safety, god that you are. It is for our own safety as well. You may attempt it if you wish; we know better than to attack the gods. But, regardless, you shall not reach our mother.” He kept the crowd back with his halberd, keeping the path in front of Chakravarti clear. They could see the palace; the city was built outwards on the spokes of eight main streets, with the palace’s walls in the center.

Chakravarti sighed and nodded. [colour=goldenrod]”Then so be it. While it pains me that I will not be able to meet with the mother of all these fine people, I have nothing but the deepest respect for sons who would lay down their lives for her protection, even against impossible odds. I will thus not test you, for I know what ferocity comes to life when one protects one’s kin.”[/colour] They looked around again. [colour=goldenrod]”The seeds of the trees gossiped about certain shrines that have been built in honour of blood and kin. Take me to them, for I much desire to behold their primitive splendor.”[/colour]

The guard nodded, explaining, “There is only one public shrine I know of; Golden Square in the new expansion. We shall take you there,” they cleared the crowd through one of the side roads, bringing Chakravarti and her procession through a winding maze of footpaths between the tall buildings. The buildings became newer and newer as they went, leaving behind the weathered buildings of yesteryear for the shining new constructions of the expansion.

When they finally emerged from the side streets, the crowd no longer passerbys but instead laborers with their tools, it was in a large square surrounded by incomplete bronzewood buildings. The guard stopped one of the laborers with his halberd; he ordered them, “Explain to Chakravarti [i]vur[/i] Chakravarti the history of this square.”

The laborer sized up the god, and then responded, a slight impatience in his voice; he was carrying tools, clearly he had been on his way to a worksite. “Golden Square is named after Summer’s Second Sheafed Harvest of Golden Stalks in the Eleventh Year of the Second Matriarch and the Poet-General; he gave his life not far from here four months ago,” a hint of sadness crept into his voice, “a beam was improperly secured; it fell. He used his body to jam it so it would not fall on the fifteen workmen below him. Those workmen erected that statue,” he gestured to the bronzewood statue in the center of the square; a crude, only barely artistic block of wood hewed into the shape of an Eft. Various offerings surrounded it; foods, tools, and a few coins.

The laborer continued, “They erected it in his likeness. We’re simple workmen. Bronzewood is difficult to hew into shape. They did the best they could. He’s a little bit of a hero around here.”

The family god stepped over to the statue and caressed the woodwork ponderously. Splinters tugged at the holy skin and the curves showed clear signs of struggle with the tools. The likeness was likeness to the people who had known this Eft, but an idol needed not perfectly resemble who it represented. Still...

[colour=goldenrod]”Do the youngest and greenest labourers among you know of his example? Has his legend been carved into writing?”[/colour]

The laborer shrugged, saying, “We speak of it amongst ourselves. But we are workmen; precious little of us are literate. If it has been written down, it was by the palace. They hold stories and legends in great esteem there.” His gaze wandered down the main street; towards the walls of the palace.

Chakravarti nodded. [colour=goldenrod]”Ah, the eternal dilemma - the appropriation of written history by the learned and the reliance on memory by the unlearned. What misfortune,”[/colour] they sighed. [colour=goldenrod]”Misunderstand me not, mortal - I do not underestimate your memory nor your commitment to ensuring the dissemination of this story out into the workforce; I fear only that the memory of Summer’s Second Sheafed Harvest of Golden Stalks in the Eleventh Year of the Second Matriarch and the Poet-General will fade into obscurity and myth with time. A worthy brother such as him deserves a proper temple and a cult of historians who can tell his tale when all who witnessed him are gone.”[/colour] The family god drummed a finger thoughtfully on their chin. [colour=goldenrod]”Perhaps more like him will make themselves known, and they, too, will need the same treatment.”[/colour]

The laborer took off his hat, holding it to his chest as he responded, “We do not begrudge the palace, m’am. Stories and legends mean a great deal to our mother; she has spent her life collecting them. We would not wish to grieve her with their loss,” he paused, his face and tone lightening when he continued, “but we also cannot begrudge an offering such as this. I can speak to the others; whatever assistance you need in enshrining Golden’s memory, we would be happy to provide.”

Chakravarti hummed and squatted down before the statue. A finger scratched passively at their nose and their lips pursed pensively. [colour=goldenrod]”Enshrined, he shall be, and I will leave space for others who will surely come later. Fetch me an armful of bronzewood bark, a fistful of salt and the seed of a palm. With this, a temple to Golden’s sacrifice for his kin shall be erected.”[/colour]

The laborer nodded, saying, “Of course, m’am,” as he turned around and stepped back into the crowd. The guards kept the square cleared for a few long minutes, until, suddenly, laborers stepped out of the crowd. One carried not just an armful of bark but an entire wheelbarrow of it; another arrived with two sack cloth bags carrying four pounds of salt each. Then, between them, a long pause.

The crowd parted to reveal eight Efts pulling a cart, atop of which was lashed a bronzewood seed; a six-hundred pound monstrosity coated in a protective shell as hard as steel. They careened the cart into the square, and looking to the god, one of them said, “Golden saved my life. I’ve brought above and beyond what was asked, in the hopes that his temple is only made more glorious for it.” He wringed his hands and continued, “but we do not know what a palm seed is, or where to find one; we’ve brought a bronzewood seed instead.”

The god pinched one such seed between two faintly glowing golden fingers and pursed their lips. [colour=goldenrod]”It will suffice, though I cannot say for certain if the temple will resemble what I had in mind; nevertheless, as is the case in all lands, one must make due with the resources available.”[/colour] They held forth a thumb and squinted one eye. [colour=goldenrod]”That site there - it shall be the location of his temple,”[/colour] they said and took ten paces forward. As they passed by the man with the salt, they extracted a fistful; when they passed by the wheelbarrow, two arms brought an armful along. Another hand raised a lecturing finger into the air. [colour=goldenrod]”Your enthusiasm is admirable and speaks volumes of your devotion to Golden’s memory…”[/colour] They dropped the bark into a pile at the destination, planted the seed in the pile and sprinkled it down with salt. [colour=goldenrod]”... Certain things, however, cannot be accelerated with additional resources. Some things will take time no matter what.”[/colour] They dusted off their hands with four series of claps. [colour=goldenrod]”Tomorrow at noon, a temple will have grown here in Golden’s honour. Until then, no one can disturb this pile.”[/colour]

The laborers lowered their heads in respect as the god walked past them and created the seed pile. The guards passively watched on; they did not know Golden, so it was not as personal for them. Once she had finished, the collection of Efts murmured their acknowledgement, a few staying to watch the seed as the laborers returned to their duties. A guard walked up to inspect the seed, and then said, “Is there anything else you require while you are in our city?”

The god looked out across the workspace, two out of eight hands resting on their hips. [colour=goldenrod]”I see that this city sports no females beyond these matriarchs that I am not privileged to meet. If someone would, I pray they could tell me - share with me - the brotherhoods formed amongst the many citizens in this settlement. How do your families persist without wives? Without fathers?”[/colour]

The guard looked at her oddly for a moment before explaining, “We are all sons of our one matriarch -- our mother. Her children are distributed among her sons -- us, to raise,” he paused, thinking for a moment before asking, “What are families, exactly?”

The god shrugged softly. [colour=goldenrod]”A family can be so much, for there are many mortals in this world who define families differently. The core family, however, is the parent and its child - the mother and her son, in your case. Other races incorporate the father to aid the mother in procreation, and families become something more than a mere relationship between creator and creation: They become partnerships between adults - projects to consolidate power and influence and ensure that their children grow up in a better world than they did.”[/colour] They paused. [colour=goldenrod]”Beyond the core family, the parents are themselves children of their own parents, and their siblings are the childrens’ relatives. This becomes the clan, which may be seen as separate from the family - a broader group who might share blood, but not the intimacy of the core family. This is not a given, of course, but a rough generalisation. To some, the family extends to the clan, incorporating all who swear loyalty to the family, be they distant relatives or entirely unrelated by blood. Others value the core family above the clan, and rather prefer the clan to orbit the core and rule through a strict hierarchy of inheritance.”[/colour] They knelt down and held up a palm in front of the guard’s face. A small cut blistered open on their skin and small droplets of liquid gold trickled forth. One droplet landed on the ground and a lotus flower sprouted at the spot. [colour=goldenrod]”Common among it all, though, is blood. Friends may be call each other brothers, but only those who have sworn to brotherhood by oath of blood and soil can call themselves family. Since you all share the same blood, mortal, that makes you, too, family.”[/colour]

“I see,” the guard responded, “Then we are all family. Our children are a communal effort. We work together to raise them; I suppose that makes us all each other’s parents.”

[colour=goldenrod]”In a way,”[/colour] agreed the god and sewed up the wound with a flick of a finger. [colour=goldenrod]”Brother can raise brother; sister can raise sister. In some families, the parent or parents do not have the capacity, skill nor will to raise their own. In such cases, the responsibility falls on the eldest children. You are brothers, but you take on the role of parent to not compromise your mother’s safety.”[/colour] The god nodded. [colour=goldenrod]”I see I still have much to study when it comes to the clan structures of this world.”[/colour]

The guard simply watched her muse to herself. He let her finish before he asked, “Perhaps; but we cannot stand in Golden Square forever. Where else would you like to go?”

The god peered passively at the nails of three of their hands. [colour=goldenrod]”Take me to your finest quarters, if you would. I wish to rest for the day. Tomorrow, your temple to Golden will have grown out of the soil and you can commence the enshrining.”[/colour]

“Very well; the guesthouse on the palace grounds shall do,” the guard instructed, half to the god and half to the other guards; they cleared a route through the crowd down the main street, walking for a few miles before finally reaching the palace walls. Upon each of the eight main streets sat a gate into the palace grounds, the entire complex surrounded by high walls, covered in cannonade and newt palace guards. The guard shouted up, “We bring our visiting god! She has requested a guesthouse!”

The newts on the walls conferred with each other briefly, before the gate rumbled. The portcullis slowly began to lift up as the two inner doors were pulled open by a team of two newts. A team of newt palace guards that emerged to take over the escort revealed just how great the difference between them and the efts -- the newts were twice as tall, with increased musculature to match. The city guards silently stepped away as the palace guards beckoned the god in.

Inside the palace grounds, the crowds thinned. Instead of thousands of efts packed together, there were some five-hundred newts scattered across the brick walkways and the well-managed gardens. Some wore armor and carried force of arms, while others wore the clothes of officials both major and minor. Fewer, still, wore the doublets of important organizations, the upper aristocracy of the march.

Chakravarti held their chin high and did not regard those they passed. They did not radiate a disrespecting aura, necessarily, but their every move clearly had a goal of distancing themself from mortal composure as possible. Their feet walked light as though their soles walked on air; four of their arms flexed outwards to strengthen their silhouette with outward beams of muscle; and their eyes were closed, though this did not seem to impede their sense of navigation. [colour=goldenrod]”Look upon me,”[/colour] they said to the bypassers. [colour=goldenrod]”Gaze upon me and know peace and safety, for Chakravarti holds in high regard the sons who defend their mother.”[/colour] They repeated this line about each time they entered a new area. The clergy in their pursuit remained as silent as they had before and followed faithfully.

The palace guards she passed only gave her steely stares, while the officials passed by her without regard; too lost in their own workloads to care. The aristocrats, however, did seem to take note; watching her carefully, and whispering to each other about her when she walked by. The palace guards took her and her procession to one of the main paths of the palace; attached to which was the guesthouse. It was a 5-story building, made of polished marble and bronzewood smoothed and waxed to a shine, with fiery orange clay tiles making up its roof.

Down one end of the main path was one of the entrances to the main flower garden, covered in resplendently colorful blooms, rare plants from all over the continent. Down the other side of the main path laid the palace itself, the path terminating in a massive flight of steps up into the central hall. The palace was entirely marble; its roof tiles exhibiting a lustre and quality far beyond those of the guesthouse. Chakravarti was clearly impressed.

[colour=goldenrod]”What splendor of architecture; what sagely use of materials; what exceptional palettes.”[/colour] Six hands applauded. [colour=goldenrod]”How long has this project taken your kind to build?”[/colour]

The newt’s voice was gruff, nowhere near as friendly as the efts that had previously escorted them, “The palace has been worked on since we first arrived here, long before even the first building in the city had its foundations laid. It is the only protection our mother has.”

Chakravarti nodded. [colour=goldenrod]”What protects her beyond these walls? Have you charms and spells to keep out the assassins that no doubt threaten her daily?”[/colour]

The palace guard sized up Chakravarti before responding, “We exist for the mundane threats. For assassins, armies -- the stock and trade of mortal force, the entire city exists as protection,” he paused, looking over at the main palace building briefly as he continued, “for your kind, guards and armies are meaningless. All I may reveal is you would regret attempting to enter the palace.”

Chakravarti frowned. [colour=goldenrod]”You will use a different tone when addressing me from now on, guardsman, lest you will regret your underhanded threats to my person.”[/colour] They shook their head. [colour=goldenrod]”Well, move along then. I wish to be alone for the afternoon and the night. Again - do -not- disturb that pile.”[/colour]

The palace guard responded, his tone flat and unimpressed, “None of that was a threat. We warn you of the palace’s defenses in the interest of ensuring you remain unharmed,” he sniffed, “if we had wanted you hurt, we would have invited you in for a visit with our mother. Remember that you are our guest; our mother decided to trust you, and that is a high honor. You are the first not of our lineage that trust has been bestowed to.”

He didn’t wait for a response, and immediately turned to leave as the rest of the palace guards silently moved to follow him.

Chakravarti scrunched their nose and went inside with an angry huff. It was clear that the locals did not know who they were hosting, and Chakravarti would be sure to leave a very poor review behind after their stay. The night passed quickly and the pile remained undisturbed. In the morning, the labourers flocked to marvel at the structure that had sprouted from the bronzewood seed: [url=https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/584331928761794580/851753623103995914/george-johnstone-pagodafinal.png]The pile had become a great tower, one where every roof sported a small ceiling like the barbs on a cactus; the salt had given a white colour to the walls and a jade fungus that had lived in the bark had given the roof tiles an emerald sheen.[/url] Within, there was plenty of room for statues and shrines, and a separate room inside, though small, allowed for a full-time cleric to maintain the statues full-time. Inside, bronzewood pillars with carvings depicting the Efts and Newts in their tireless labour held up the many floors, and the levels continued upwards and could be accessed by a spiral of ladders going all the way to the top.

When the guards came to see Chakravarti, however, they found that they had left in the night, leaving only the used bed sheets of themself and their followers and empty breakfast plates. No one had seen them leave and no one could say why they had left before telling anyone.

The palace guards did a search of the palace grounds to make sure; meanwhile, the laborers selected one of their own to maintain the shrine. Once the palace grounds had been secured, the alert was dropped. Though the city would slowly come to worship Chakravarti, the palace itself remained unconvinced, a bastion of irreligion surrounded by a city of the religious.

[hider=Zoomery]
Newts and efts have made a shrine to a dead comrade. Chak comes by to teach them proppa comrade worship. They accept and Chak plants them a new temple. They then ask if Chak wanna some summin else, but since they don’t get to see the mommy of the city, they just learn about the brotherhood of the Efts and Newts. They then go to sleep and leave in the night because they feel they got disrespected.
[/hider]