[center][h1]The Nations of Sipenta[/h1][/center][center][h3]The Five Thrones[/h3][/center]
[hider=Perrence][center][h2]The Legend of the Oriflamme[/h2][/center]The Oriflamme is the legendary war banner of the Kingdom of Perrence, first flown in EZ 14 at the Battle of Hasquelle, when three thousand knights of the Red Rezaindian Order of Ste. Gerard stood firm against the Great Heathen Army of Hrothgar the Black and saved Quentendom. For eight hundred years since it has guarded and inspired every knight, mage, and soldier who has had the honour of serving his motherland in the Grande Armée of Perrence. When marching under the protection of the Oriflamme, the Grande Armée has never lost. Upon being raised, the flag is a promise that the gentlemen’s rules of warfare have been suspended: quarter will be neither given nor expected. What will follow will be a contest to the death.

While Stresian Philosophers have analyzed this ancient flag and there appears to be nothing physically remarkable about it, one would be foolish to disregard the power of symbols to move the human spirit. Prospero Malatesta himself - archrival of Perrence - is said to be wary of the effect that the famous banner has and eager to destroy its myth. To a certain degree, the legend of the Oriflamme is self-perpetuating now. Many soldiers in the Grande Armee truly believe, on some level, that they cannot lose while fighting under it and their opponents fear that they cannot win. When it comes to the battlefield, that can have a subtle but very real effect.

Of course, there's no substitution for simply having a strong military, and this is doubtless a large part of the fearsome reputation of the Oriflamme. Simply put, the Perrench can field numbers that no other nation except Belzagg can, and Perrench soldiers are generally better trained, equipped, and more professional. While they also have a strong cavalry, it's their magery that especially stands out. In particular, it's the Légion de la Flamme Sacrée (Legion of the Sacred Flame) that frightens other countries. Every mage in that unit is far more than the usual sort of undisciplined noble with a fairly high RAS seen looking for glory and moonlighting as a soldier. The Legion stands five thousand members strong. Every single one drills as a professional soldier, is paid a wage, and has a RAS of at least 7. They are feared as the continent's most devastating strike force and, truly, it is doubtful that any nation could stand against them in open combat.
[hr][center][h2]Green Perrence[/h2][/center][i]Though not officially the anthem of Perrence, this soulful folk song has been sung for hundreds of years in that country, starting among the peasantry and spreading up the social strata to be embraced by poor and rich alike. More than just a battle hymn, religious canticle, or popular song, it is patriotic in the deepest sense: expressing the people's deep love for and connection to their land, their culture, and their achievements.[/i]

"I have heard of a place - have you? - it is written, it is said,
Where every woman has her wine and every man his daily bread.

The streets are paved in stone,
The fields green, the lords are good
I would live in such place.
Yes I would. Yes I would.

Green Perrence, motherland, you have raised me up from new.
Under Oraff's watchful gaze, you have shaped me strong and true.

Your forests filled with game
Your shoppes are stocked with finest goods
I would live in such a place.
Yes I would. Yes I would.

I see your fields stained with blood, shed to keep me safe and free,
Where the poppies grow up thick, but I would give my life for thee.

My children: they will live here.
They will prosper by your hand.
Green Perrence: my home forever.
Green Perrence: motherland."

[center][h2]Rouis XI, par la grâce des Dieux, Roi de Perrence et de la frontière Crisienne[/h2] [sub][h3](Rouis the Eleventh, by the grace of the Gods, King of Perrence and the Crisian Marches)[/h3][/sub][/center]

Rouis XI is the current monarch of Perrence, having reigned for some fourteen years following the rule of his legendary grandfather, Arcel IV, called 'le Victorieux' (the victorious). In many ways, he has been found wanting following his predecessor's famous rule, but it is hardly his fault. 

He was originally supposed to have had more time to prepare for his role, as his father, also named Rouis, had been handed increasingly more of the aging Arcel's duties and was supposed to have succeeded him. The deaths of these two men within months of each other could not have come at a worse time, as Perrence was heavily embroiled in the Joruban Revolution, aiding its ally Belzagg in their support of the deposed monarchy. Rouis found himself propelled into the spotlight as the kingdom scrambled to reorganize and reconsolidate around its new leader while upholding its commitments amid heavy military spending.

Unfortunately, a mixture of unreliable allies, in the form of Belzagg and Virang, and a decisive naval defeat at the battle of Cap de Redame handed Rouis a humiliating defeat and a coronation celebrated not in the grand cathedral of Notre Dame de la Liberté, which had been damaged by a daring raid during the war, but in the smaller Ste. Defrois. His prestige never recovered and, with the Perrench momentarily laid low, the Doge of Revidia was confirmed in his rule 'fino alla morte' (until death). He immediately leveraged his popularity following the great victory to press his claim by right of Cognatic descent to the throne of neighbouring Segona, which he won.

Though he is stubborn and often bristly, Rouis is not a bad king or a bad person. He was simply handed the reins before he was ready and dealt a losing hand - a blow from which he has struggled to recover. In many respects, he has been a wary and superstitious man ever since. People whisper that he is dominated by his Crisian Queen and interested in politics only as a matter of duty. Some say that his family is cursed, but they are his greatest joy. He takes solace in his many children and what he hopes are bright futures for them.[/hider]
[hider=Revidia][center][h2]Prospero Malatesta l'Anguilla, First of His Name: Doge of Revidia, King of Segoña, Shield of Quentendom[/h2][/center]

Some people will tell you that Prospero Malatesta is a gambler. They will maintain that he has gambled more than anyone alive and that he has profited by it in often unholy ways. Ignore these people. They are either slanderers or else fools. Prospero l'Anguilla has not gambled so much as once in his life and, if he has, it has been with the outcome firmly preordained in his favour.

The man known to many as 'the Eel' was born in the year of The Arbiter Dami 50 in the port city of Civitalunga on the Isle of Salazzi to a distinctly middling family of viscounts, the younger of twins by half an hour.

Strong in the Gift but not exceptional like his sister Francesca, he attended the Ersand'Enise Academy of Thaumaturgy along with her. Many hold that Prospero's rise to power began soon after his return from Ersand'Enise, not as a mere Alta, but a Tan-Zeno, with all of the privileges and respect that the role entailed. In truth, it began at the academy, where he studied for so long as much for the social connections that he would make with other young nobles and economic opportunities as out of academic interest. Those who maintain that he studied Blood and Dark Magics there in secret are slanderers of the worst sort and their words should be roundly condemned. Binding Magic is a reputable school and one concerned, in particular, with human welfare. Dark Magic is a rumour.

If, in fact, there was any hidden motive, it was the business interest that he built up in the city. For a finder's fee, the future Doge began supplementing his appraisal business by facilitating the arrivals of students aboard traditionally non-passenger carrying vessels. Many say that Prospero should've been born a merchant, despite his occasionally contentious relations with members of that class, because he was the first to recognize that a recent law provided for all ships carrying students to berth freely for one night and avoid the renowned port's onerous fees. 

With these earnings, often taken as a percentage of the merchants' sales, Prospero was able to build up a considerable war chest. Next, he began to be more selective in his choice of partners, preferring to do business with merchantmen who dealt in niche goods that served almost exclusively the mages of Ersand'Enise. He had his agents buy up the city's stock, artificially inflating the price for a little while, so that his merchant friends could make a larger profit and his cut would ultimately amount to a larger windfall. 

After a time, the practice of selling berthing arrangements was banned, but Prospero did not fight the new law, which had been on the books for some time and intended to cripple him, but had been uncustomarily slow in making it through the city's council. By the time that it came into effect, most of his money came from market manipulation. He spent this lavishly on his friends and allies and acted as patron for the Holy Orders - in particular, the Hundrians and Rezaindians, for, by his reasoning, these two orders held a near monopoly on love and fear, which were the prime motivations for everything that humans did. Of course, he may have also paid bribes in the right places to ensure that the laws that truly mattered to him did not get changed.So go the rumours, anyhow. It was during this time that he began to be known as l'Anguilla (the Eel), for his slippery nature.

When the time came for the future Doge to graduate and return to his homeland, he was one of the wealthiest men in Revidia and certainly Ersand'Enise. His rise to political power began almost as soon as he set foot in the ancient capital of Avince and was aided and abetted by the extensive network that he had built up during his time in the City of the Bells. These people, he immediately set to work, motivating their minds with soaring rhetoric about a bold new future where the old order would give way to the new and their hearts with a continuing stream of well-earned rewards.

The political landscape of Revidia was contentious at that time, with a rising merchant class close to open insurrection against the noble leaders of the nominal republic. What Prospero did was to have his noble friends enflame the one side and his merchant partners the other. Meanwhile, though he styled himself a reformist, he was also a moderate and a peacemaker within the then-ironically-named Serene Council of the Republic. With the Merchants steadfastly unwilling to elect another aged conservative nobleman and the nobles unable to turn enough of them with promises of noble title and land in exchange for votes, Prospero had found his hour. Merchants looked upon him favourably as the best candidate among the noble group, while his fellow nobles could at least stomach his ascendance if it meant keeping the Merchants from voting on a law that would allow members of their class to stand for election as Doge.

Prospero l'Anguilla won in a landslide, but his castle was built upon pillars of sand. He began by speaking conciliatory words, spending his own money strategically to earn the regard of the lower classes, and vigorously passing every new law up for discussion that was not concerned with the class controversy. He then began to tackle the great problem of the day, and he fell subtly but decisively on the nobles' side. He levied a handful of new taxes on the merchant class, perceiving that the majority were now much less concerned with being businessmen than they were with status and playing noble-in-all-but-name. In return, he established the current class regime, which mandated an equal stake in the nation's affairs for merchants, clearly enshrining in law separate spheres of influence for the two classes. There was some discontent, but the measure was a success. Still, if the ruling class of Revidia remained divided, he would have to maintain a precarious balancing act for the rest of his political career. This was not something that Prospero was about to do. He decided that a foreign foe was needed to occupy the other side of the balance: one that all Revidians could agree on.

This presented itself in the form of a civil war in Joru, where the unpopular king, Oswentu IV, had suspended parliament and levied unpopular new taxes in order to construct for himself a mausoleum to rival those of ancient Borzegeum. Prospero knew people there. He had people there. Quietly, Revidia threw its support behind the burgeoning Republican faction and its main trading rival, Belzagg, behind the monarchy.

In a land war, Revidia could not hope to stand against mighty Belzagg, and neither could Joru, but the Doge knew that Oswentu had been cozying up a little too closely to the Belzaggic Emperor, Jobanzagda III, for neighbouring Torragon's comfort. A chance to strike a blow at their Belzaggic rivals and maintain Joru as a puppet state was too sweet for the Torragonese to pass up, especially with a major ally like Revidia to control the seas for them.

The central problem came in the form of Perrence and Virang, Belzagg's powerful allies. Here, however, fortune smiled on the Doge's side. Following a tense welcome ceremony at the Academy of Ersand'Enise attended by himself, the Dauphin (crown prince) of Perrence, and the elderly Vizier of Virang, all three men fell mysteriously and profoundly ill, the last in the middle of an intense theological dispute over the Vashdal Wakening heresy. Prospero was not seen in public during this time, though correspondence continued to be issued from his country villa, away from prying eyes, in his name. The other two men died.

The effect was to make Virang - Torragon's longtime enemy and Belzagg's ally of convenience - lose its stomach for fighting. It retreated into itself in mourning and theological turmoil, though some maintain that this was merely a pretext for Sultan Osman to remove a rival and avoid an unwanted war in one stroke. The result was that the balance now tipped in Revidia's favour. In Perrence, elderly monarch Arcel IV was already in declining health and he passed on mere weeks after formally declaring war. The mighty kingdom's war effort now fell to his inexperienced grandson, Rouis XI, who the Doge viewed as an impetuous young fool. 

The enemies of Perrence pounced, Revidian forces blockading the ports and Torragonese marching into Joru to help consolidate the gains of the new Republic. As Prospero had planned, Rouis was forced to raise taxes to strengthen the navy and attempt to break the blockade. For the first time in over a century, the Marine Royale of Perrence met the Illustrious Navy of the Confederation of Revidia in open battle, supported by elements of the Imperial Fleet of Belzagg.

The Battle of Cap de Redame was a close run affair at first, as the combined Perrench and Belzaggic forces outnumbered those at the disposal of Signora Francesca Malatesta la Volpe by nearly two to one. However, Prospero's sister, known as the 'Sea Fox', was not to be outfoxed and used the greater maneuverability of the smaller Revidian galleons and galeasses to 'cross the T' of the larger force and rain hellfire upon them.

After claiming victory, Lady Francesca bared her teeth, figuratively speaking and, in a move planned to look as if ran contrary to orders (but, in reality, followed Prospero's directives), pursued the battered Perrench forces all of the way into the harbour of the Perrench capital of Relouse, firing a full fleet broadside into the Cathedral District before retreating as the capital's mighty cannon, bombards, and Mage corps returned fire to maul her fleet. What returned to Avince was a navy noticeably reduced but decisively victorious. 

The Perrench should've sued for peace at this point, but they did not. Instead, reasoning that the Confederation couldn't possibly match the Perrench Grande Armee on land, Rouis prepared to march north under the Oriflamme banner, Avince in his sights and distinctly Eskandish thoughts occupying his mind. Prospero had not been expecting an act so sudden and rash, and the danger was very real, but it left the Perrench south and the vassal kingdom of Crisia unprotected. He reached out to Queen Silke of Kerremand, who he'd attended Ersand'Enise alongside, and guaranteed her territorial gains. He further promised that Crisia would become independent following the resolution of the conflict should she enter on his side. It was likely that an independent Crisia would fall under the Kerreman sphere of influence, given the two nations' longer shared history and linguistic and cultural similarities.

The Kerremans mobilized and, encouraged by this, a popular insurrection broke out in Crisia. Meanwhile, backed by Torragonese forces, who did not have to worry about Virang to their western flank, Joru claimed ultimate victory in its battle to establish a Republic with the beheading of the former king and all senior members of the royal household. This weakened Belzagg by removing a potential ally and vassal state, as the Revidian nobility had hoped, and laid the foundations for Joru to a beacon for the reformist movement, as the merchant class had largely desired.

Now, the Doge played a different sort of card, offering very generous - near-status quo - terms to the aging Emperor. In fact, he even agreed to recognize Belzaggic dominion over a disputed island of little consequence as a gesture of good faith. Belzagg was out of the war, dignity somewhat tattered but ultimately intact. 

Out of allies and surrounded by hostile forces on all sides, young Rouis XI capitulated, petulant and stubborn to the end and maintaining that he could've marched on Avince and won. Prospero l'Anguilla, Doge of the Confederation of Revidia, was now victorious and, for the first time in centuries, Revidia stood first among the nations of Constantia. This was not his final play, however.

With the country bound together in rejoicing and his popularity - and that of his hero sister - at an all-time high, Prospero was quick to take advantage of another stroke of fortune. The Segoñese monarchy had been, of late, short on heirs and male heirs in particular. The mysterious and untimely death of its young monarch, Remendo II, left only his sickly nine-year-old daughter, Amelea, to inherit the throne. With her mother having died in childbirth, she would fall under the regency of some cousin or other due to her young age and ill health. Given Segoña's painful history with regencies, traditional enmity with Virang, and closeness with Revidian ally Torragon, Prospero was an immensely popular figure there. With the right guarantees and payments in place, he sought to leverage a rather faint claim that he had to the throne through his mother's bloodline.

The girl was swept aside and, with hardly a drop of blood shed aside from some diehard loyalists of the dynasty, Prospero l'Anguilla, Doge of Revidia, became Prospero I, King of Segoña as well. Just where his ambitions will take him in the future, it is hard to say, but he stands, in the present, as the most powerful ruler in all of Constantia and possibly the twin continents. Woe be to he or she who tangles with the Eel.[/hider]
[hider=Eskand][center][h2]A Story of the Founding, Flourishing, and Fall of Eskand[/h2][/center]
1200 years ago, by the reckoning of learned men, lived the most powerful magic user of all time: the legendary Fradje Ironshaper. We can gather from old texts and modern deduction, that he was a prodigiously powerful mooncaster, with an estimated maximum RAS of 9.70. Through force of will and arms, he unified the Eskandish tribes and sacked Avince, the capital of the Avincian Empire, bringing his people great wealth, respect, and plunder. It is said that he lay with ten thousand women (and some men, though that's strangely absent from more recent retellings) and that fully five percent of the Constantian population can claim ancestry from him, including much of the nobility. Of course, the moment he was finally called to the Visitor's table - for not even he could resist that call - there was no other figure who could hope to hold his empire together.

The Avincians rebounded, thanks to the efforts of Macian III, and their empire lasted, against all odds, for another 250 years until its final collapse. The Eskandish people retreated south of the Haskell and Zeine Rivers, which today mark the border between Crisia and Perrence, but they remained strong. They were fierce and feared and, for a time, Eskand itself and the two lesser Eskandish kingdoms of Drudgunze and Holbahnia bullied the North. The Northerners were a disaster: their kingdoms, duchies, and counties small, weak, and feuding, and they could not fight back. Soon, they did not even fight each other. They settled down and produced: works of literature and theology, fine jewellery and garments, delicious and exotic foods and spices that the Eskandish could not hope to derive from their cold and wild lands.

The Northerners paid their tribute, and they sent delegations with it each time: larger and more richly appointed delegations. These people had names attached to them that weren't their own names, like Somnians, Stresians, Dordians, and Hundrians. They met with Eskandish kings and spoke with them. They showered the kings with gifts. The kings forgot the Gods. They traded Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, and Visitor for Ipte, Shune, Oraff, Eshiran, and Dami. They decreed that their people should do the same. The Drudgunzeans bowed to the will of their kings - not all of them, and not all at once, but they did. In Holbahnia, the people rose, but so did the king's defenders. East and west were torn asunder: two kingdoms forever more. But in Eskand itself, the proud Jarls and Aerchons put the king's head on a pike for his blasphemy and marched North. The worshippers of the false Gods recanted or burned. It had been many years since an Eskandish horde marched north, and many things had changed, but there was nothing else that could be done that would satisfy the Gods or, truly, the people. 

Only, this time, they were not fighting the soft and decadent men of the North; they crossed swords with Eskandishmen. With difficulty, the great heathen army plowed forward, towards those green lands and their sly people with their silvery tongues and tempting wares. Yet, when they reached the waters of the Zeine, which had once been theirs to come and go from as they pleased, they were met by an army led by the Red Rezaindian knights of the Kingdom of Perrence - an army versed in the Gift, armoured by a thousand blacksmiths, and trained by their former countrymen. The Horde collapsed and fled. The oriflamme of the Perrench fluttered, bloodstained and victorious, over the battlefield and has not known defeat in the eight hundred years since.

The men of Helbahn, broken in numbers, body, and spirit, returned to their homelands and made a humiliating peace with their Holmanian neighbours, if only to preserve the border between the two nations that had not existed more than two generations before. They accepted the new Gods and the new ways, and monks and nuns came to preach in their temples and minister to their people. They replaced the old script with the letters of the Avincians, themselves long disappeared. Proud Eskand refused to surrender, however. they retreated to their keeps and into the harsh, icy winters that had always made their home unassailable during the cold months of what the Northerners referred to as Somnes and Hundri. 

In the Stresia, however, ships arrived. They were not warships. They carried tribute, as in the days of old, but the men who delivered this treasure were taller somehow, sterner now. They warned the Eskandishmen not to march North again, not to march north of the Hidsvark, which divided their kingdom from Holmania and Helbahn. This was an insult that they could not bear, for the lands to the Zeine and Haskell had always been theirs. Yet, they needed the money, to rebuild broken ships, weapons, bodies, and trade, so they accepted the terms and took it. Onto their lands they accepted the monks, who came to live among them. The Jarls and Aerchons thought the king weak and demanded an assembly to decide if he was still worthy to lead.

From this was born the elective monarchy of Eskand, as he was found wanting and replaced. His successor, too, was unsatisfactory to her subjects, and she gave way to yet another. In truth, the lands of Eskand did not go down in a blaze of glory that would please the Old Gods. Those are much mythologized now anyway, and were not nearly so romantically savage as portrayed in later texts. The Drudgunzean nations furthest north, who had reluctantly accepted the Pentad and the Avincian words and customs from the outset, were carved up by differences, wars, and political marriages. There is yet some Eskandish blood there, but less as time goes on, and the tongues that they speak would not be recognized by their forebears. The middle kingdoms of Helbahn and Holmania also turned North, though less so. The former became a land of traders and opportunists, thieves and sailors. The latter, one of greedy burghers and grasping, beady-eyed bankers.

Eskand itself began to splinter, the islands of Hargelich, which had always been only nominally under its control, being the first to break away. The Juiskarnish Isles, perceiving the inertia of the Eskandish court and its backwardness, were next, turning trader and haven for political causes. These events, occurring within the span of a single lifetime, were traumatic to the old order. They held an assembly and chose a new king. He did not satisfy them. They held another, and this man died within months by the blade of a Black Rezandian. The assembly was in crisis. The two sides - one from northern Eskand and one from the south - remained at loggerheads, a last spasm of that legendary stubbornness of their people perhaps driving them. Nobody, however, listened to the West - nobody except the Holmanians to the north, with whom they shared a dialect and did a brisk trade. So in that year of Ahn-Eshiran-41, the kingdom of Eskand split three ways. The Loh Eskandish had their king, as did the Ath Eskandish. The Barthic people split. Nobody expected it to last. There would be a civil war, of course, likely in the year cohort of Eshiran-Zept, for war was that God's blessing, and there would emerge a victor and a vanquished.

Yet, the war was barely a skirmish. The two Eskands focused on each other. The Barthics fortified their new borders and turned Northwards. The row became a schism. The schism a chasm, and no force of man nor divinity has been able to heal Eskand ever since. Today, it is a shadow of the kingdom it once was. The Old Gods live on only in folklore and increasingly fanciful retellings of the past. Northern priests, merchants, and nobles take Eskandish wives and marry into or buy Eskandish land. The youth of the Noble and Merchant classes dress in the fashions of last year's Perrench and Revidian courts and speak and write Avincian. The Grande Armee of Perrence has long since moved on from its border to the south and reoriented itself towards Revidia - on the old lands of Avince. The northerners and their great armies fight with rifles, cannon, and galleons amongst themselves now. Eskand fights within itself. Some say it fights for its soul - its reason for existing.

That is the story of the fallen kingdom of Eskand.
[center][h2]Eskand: A Profile[/h2][/center]
Eskand is a land rich in resources: fish, timber, coal, iron, silver, and gold. The waters are cold and clean and a great many whales and birds migrate there during the warm months of Stresia and Dorrad. There are fiery mountains along the spine of the Eskandish peninsula, and hot springs for people to bathe in. There is oil and uranium in the ground as well, as yet untapped until human industry is ready for it. 

The people are hardy, stubborn, and not a bit resentful of northerners. They live on an ancient cycle, growing hardy crops in the thin soil and fishing by the coast. Many still hunt to supplement their winter food supply. They have a natural warmth and curiosity about them, but only if you get to know them and they sense that they can trust you. Once, they were travelers and explorers, but that has mostly changed in their culture. They can be religious and superstitious, often mixing Quentic belief with pagan practice. They treat the act of gift-giving with the utmost respect and solemnity and are believers in reciprocity and the sharing of resources between people. To a degree, they follow the creed of "from each according to his ability to each according to his need," but this is not absolute. If one is consistently found to be derelict in his duties, especially through lack of effort, that person is declared Aerdragnir and ostracized by the community. 

Despite common depictions of them as backwards, simple, and unwashed barbarians, Eskandishmen hold personal hygiene in the highest regard, bathing at least once per week, and taking pride in the grooming of their hair and beards. For women, it is considered a right to receive three days' rest - except for essential duties- when menstruating. Clothing is mostly designed for warmth and comfort and wool is the most common material due to the great herds of sheep raised in the northern part of the country. In the far south, seal leather is more common, and is traded with the north for wool. 

Most Eskandish housing is built into the landscape itself, and either takes advantage of natural windbreaks like fjords or hunkers close together in shapes designed to deflect the harsh gusts. Fortified towns and villages are common, with wooden palisades backed by earthen ramparts. The most common materials are sod and stone, supplemented by wood, increasingly the further north one goes. Bronze, bone, and gold are used in decoration, and the second sometimes in aspects of construction. Most houses are also built around a central hearth and with a stone chimney.

Most cities in this country are small, with the exception of Hegelo, Vigholm, and the capital: Meldheim. All are located on the coast, for the bounty of the sea is needed to sustain larger populations. In these cities, great wealth and sophistication exists alongside squalor and crime. They are dangerous places at night and yet more prosperous than the oft-backward countryside. Though the Eskandish tongue dominates, one can increasingly hear languages from as far afield as Virang, Belzagg, and even distant ReTan.

[center][h2]Religious Ceremony in Eskand[/h2][/center]
In current religious practice, Eskandish mix the old pagan practices, circa Oriflamme era, with the Pentad. In the eyes of some, they're 'imperfectly converted'. More conservative elements within the Quentic church consider them not even to be truly Quentic. They accuse the Eskandish of being crypto-pagans and/or using religion as an excuse to maintain secret forest societies which is protected on grounds of being sacred.

In general, Eskandish avoid what they see as 'idolatry'. They believe that you are closest to the gods when in their creation instead of human creation, and particularly when you're close to their associated traditional element. As a result, large, elaborate churches with great multitudes of statues, marble, gold leaf, and frescoes are viewed as wasteful and pointless. They prefer stave churches, which can also be quite beautiful with their woodwork, backing onto a sacred grove.

By and large, celebrations are less religiously sober and more of a party, particularly Ipte's and Eshiran's.

[list][*]A mass dedicated to Ipte might end in a frolic in the woods, dancing, art, and performance, or even an orgy, though the last of these has become rather rare.

[*]One dedicated to Shune might end in a workshop or seminar on an interesting or worthwhile skill or subject.

[*] For Oraff, people will perhaps engage in planting trees, feeding the needy or animals, wildlife spotting, or good works.

[*] Celebrations of Eshiran often involve a large bonfire. Half are sober reflections on death and memorialization of the departed. The other half consist of aggressive music, pscyhoactive drugs, and fistfights. Kastang or boxing tournaments are common.

[*] A mass of Dami would end in a group advice and therapy session in which one could seek guidance and advice without judgement.[/list]

For these practices, Eskandish often face ridicule and accusation from other Quentic societies, though Vossoriyan religious belief is broadly similar and there is mutual respect and regard. The spirit of these practices is also held in high esteem by many yasoi, with the exception of Tar'ithan. Finally, many peoples of Callanast are more amenable to proselytization in this form than more mainline Quentiic belief. Hence, the Optimate or Verrano continues to tolerate its flourishing in sourthern lands.

[center][h2]Kejser Horik Vinderborg of Oleften[/h2][/center]
Among the rulers of Constantia, Kejser Horik of Eskand is something of an enigma. Standing a massive, bulky seven feet tall, he cuts an imposing and instantly recognizable figure. Hailing from the far southern Duchy of Oleften, he was considered a longshot to win the throne. Yet, for reasons then unknown, at the eleventh hour in the voting process of Eskand's elective monarchy, nearly two dozen electors who had pledged to vote for Haddenvaerle Fradje switched their votes.

As a monarch, Horik has elevated the profile of Eskand through his endless travels: he attends every political event of any importance. His colossal figure, replete with great braided beard and runic tattoos, harkens back to those popular images of yore of Eskandish raiders. Indeed, he is notable for his personal charm and  respect for the old ways. While many agree that Horik is succeeding in his goal to cultivate an aura of mystery, power, and menace abroad, some in his homeland scoff behind his back.

An absentee king, his subjects see little of him except on their coinage and know only his neglect. Other nobles scoff that he must've bought the throne, as Oleften is rich in silver mines. Finally, there are those who snicker at his size and girth. "Horik the Lean" they call him ironically, or "Horik-too-fat-to-sit-a-horse". Another common target of their derision is his unnoteworthy RAS: a mere 6.32 for the monarch of a nation that considers itself a major power.

Yet, his remote upbringing and people's tendency to focus on his more obvious characteristics has been to the Kejser's benefit as well. Horik remains, in his fiftieth year, an enigmatic figure. His wealth seems limitless and precious little is known about his use of the Gift. Some whisper that he is not so mundane as he would appear. Indeed, there have been stories of an immense unidentified berserker in battle, dual-wielding greatswords and slaying all before him without mercy or quarter.[hr]
[center][h2]The Eskandish Neskal[/h2][/center]
The Eskandish Neskal is the most unique of currencies within the Twin Continents as, during each year cycle, they are minted from different materials, each of which is associated with a particular deity. Garnet Neskals with Ipte, Lapis Lazuli for Shune, Gold for Oraff, Ivory for Eshiran, and Onyx for Dami. There is a system of hidden meanings associated with this currency based on contextual factors and type of neskal used. 

Dowries are often paid in Garnet Neskals, as are wedding gifts. Their secondary use to to denote beauty. If an artist does a fine job, they are paid in Garnet Neskals. If not paid this way, it is a subtle hint that their work did not meet expectations. 

It is considered polite to pay a Zeno for any salary or service rendered in Lapis Lazuli. The same goes for tutors. Students headed away or abroad to study receive this type of neskal in addition to some gold ones. Any information bought or sold should be paid for with Lapis Lazuli if valuable enough.

Gold Neskals are the default and most common type, but they still hold certain meanings and are a symbol of good fortune. Soldiers often receive their final pay before going off to war in Gold Neskals, as an exhortation for Oraff to protect them. Funds for starting a venture are also often paid in gold neskals and possibly some Onyx ones.

Ivory Neskals are given to soldiers returning from a successful campaign. They are also used to pay for funerary services and offer condolences. If a noble house pays another for something nondescript or for something that would generally require another type of Neskal, then paying with Ivory is a sign of ill feeling and can be construed as a threat. However, this is a complex matter and there are a number of potential other confounding uses, so the payer often has plausible deniability.

Onyx Neskals are often given in professional and business matters as an exhortation to deal fairly. Often, when given in other transactions, they symbolize the belief that the payee has exercised sound judgement. In legal cases, where settlements are monetary, they are paid out in Onyx Neskals. 
[/hider]
[hider=Belzagg][center][h2]The Patchwork Colossus[/h2][/center]

There has long been a region known as 'Belzagg': vast and populous, picturesque and fertile. Home to a plethora of proud and jealous dark-skinned peoples, it has been an overwhelmingly feudal land for most of its history. While its hundred-twelve nations have usually found themselves bound by similar languages, cultures, religious beliefs, and histories, the Avincian Empire, which held sway over much of the southern and eastern regions served as a differentiator. The four imperial provinces of Belsagia Orientalis, Maritimae, Saltus, and Superior became thoroughly Avincianized while their neighbours did not.

Yet, the Avincians left behind a lasting legacy in the region, from imperial titles and styles, to alphabet and linguistic influcences, to bbuilding preferences and a greater interconnectedness with the other peoples of the Ensollian region. The Serene Belzaggic Empire, which emerged in the years following the collapse of its Avincian predecessor and considered itself the natural successor to that legacy, failed to devvelop into a strong and centralized state, however. Morphing into an elective monarchy before long, the title of Emperor became gradually weakened until petty kings, lords, and chieftains excerised near-complete effective sovereignty over their lands. Their desire to hold onto these powers prevented a more formal unity and, hence, no single entity was either strong or inspiring enough to bring it to fruition. This dynamic found an eager upholder in the form of neighbouring Joru: an ancient monarchy to the west that had grown rich and prosperous off of its partial control over the Jaranga Isthmus and the Straits of Malem. Fearing the potential power of a unified Belzagg, its rulers worked tirelessly to keep the Belzaggic peoples jealous, impoverished, and divided.

This began to unravel during the Late Medieval period as investiture disputes with the Optimate of the Avincian Quentic Church provided an excuse for duchies and lesser kingdoms to break free of the 'Empire'. By the end of the period, the it had disappeared from the map entirely, and new 'emperors' ceased to be elected except in the kingdom of Zangyewo. 

[hider=Tacky's Notes]- Originally an agressive collonial empire (Maybe by CoS maybe not)
- Elective monarchy
- 112 small states under pervious Emperor Hazwumi IV 'the Wise'
- Contatly harrassed by Joru
- Unified 100 years ago
- 4 provinced during Avincian empire
- A federation, molded into a singular country
- Still struggling to find a cohessive identity
- Advanced civil services
- Different dialects throughout the kingdom, but most can understand eachother
- Nobility is a mess of titles and possitions under the Emperor
- Titles are often mis-matched, a duke in a populous city will likely have more power than a king of a remote place
- Male heirs perferred
- Reluctant to have regency, have not had one since unification
- Current Emperor family traced back 1342 years, from last Avincian Emperor
- Consider themselves the last Avincian Emperors
- Economic opportunities to the East
- Weggos refused to join unification, Belzagg still wants them along with the other small southern kingdoms
- Largest population in the twin contents
- Smaller GDP for population. Similar to that of Revidia. 
- Starting to through their size around politically


Society:
- Way too many nobles
- Loyalty to the corwn comes first
- Warry of having too strong of a civil service, in fear of having nobles overthrown as in Joru
- Courtly and chivaric manners are exteremely important
- House iconography/heraldry is important
- Noble houses of Belzagg all trying to become the most powerful while emperor does best to keep them all on an even feild
- The crown lands are the peninculal reching border of Zenagul, largest lands in Belzagg
- Bankrupt nobles by having the Emperor visit/host parties so they are constalty indbted to him
- Keeps some 'hostages' in capital at all times, though they're usually called and treated as honoured guests[/hider]
[/hider]
[hider=Torragon][center][h2]An Emerging Empire: Torragòn[/h2][/center]Torraggònese are somewhat similar to Eskandish in the sense that they are integrated into the systems of their southern neighbours but also something of a people apart. While they are part of the political sphere of Constantia, they're Severan, and the only Quentic nation in West Severa. 

Fundamentally, the Torragònense are conquerors. They're horsemen of the savannah, steppe, and desert: a hard people not much for decadence, as evidenced by their stewardship of the Iron Throne among the five. From their beginnings as a seminomadic tribe cast out of Constantia after the fall of the Esquelune Dynasty of Perrence, they took the land that they now call home from the people who lived there.

Their speech, diet, and traditions changed to suit it, their architecture is a fusion of Constantian and Severan. They guard their borders ferociously and raise great herds of cattle near the Arapora river and Lake Albadòn, engaging in months-long cattle drives through the arid canyons, grassy steppes, and rusty red buttes of the inner plateau to the shining port metropolis of Varrahasta.
 
As time has passed, Torragòn has gone from a place of rough, dusty horse people, skilled in combat and animal husbandry but uncouth in all other ways, to a flourishing empire, with bustling ports, fine shops and marketplaces with jewelers, banks, and spice traders. Educated young nobles and merchants look to further their studies of the Gift, politics, business, and the natural sciences across the Ensollian Sea and marry into the great houses of Constantia. Workshops, factories, and universities, with their terracotta roofs and stucco walls hunker under the sullen stone keeps and proud steeples and minarets that came before them. 

With these changes, the Nation of Eshiran now finds itself in a struggle for its identity. Should it embrace the ways of the south, where its ruling classes and much of its people came from long ago, and look outward, or should it continue to chart its own course? Increasingly, the sea and its promise beckons to the warriors, priests, and traders of Torragòn. There are lands and peoples there ripe for conquest, and conquest runs thick in Torragònese blood.[/hider]
[center][h3]Other Nations[/h3][/center]
[hider=ReTan]...[/hider]
[hider=Virang][center][h2][u]The Silverstar Sultanate[/u][/h2][/center]
If Inipor is the spiritual and cultural heart of the Darhannic nations, then Virang is the economic, political, pop-cultural, and military leader. It began along the river system about eight hundred years ago and expanded gradually, Expanding four centuries ago to nearly its present day size with the conquest of the barbaric tribes of the Jangari Peninsula under Sultan Jahan III, known as the Silverstar for a prophetic dream that he had the night before the Battle of Zar-il-Sham. His successors, in trying to emulate his great deeds, would claim for themselves the few remaining holdouts and a toehold in Constantia with the conquest of Paggon. However, hemmed in by superpower Torragon soon after, as well as friendly neighbours and hostile yasoi willing to fight guerilla campaigns, expansion became much harder and a series of ill-advised campaigns led to the heavy taxation of the Paggonian colony and its eventual rebellion and separation two hundred years ago.

Since then, Virangish conquest has ceased and the country has consolidated itself militarily, socially,  politically, and economically. In the final case, the expansion of trade with the Far West has enriched Virangish and now-allied Paggon's treasuries and the former has come to be regarded as a great power by all who know and understand politics. Regardless of this status, it has been consistently frozen out of the Council of the Five Thrones due to its status as a Darhannic nation. Some Virangish care and others care little. It has still been able to form successful alliances, particularly with mighty Belzagg and Perrence, and the wealth of the old urban areas of this country along the Miharapori is rivaled only by that of the new metropolises along the Jangari peninsula, including the sprawling capital of Gandakar, with its platinum-domed Idasque of the Silverstar, lush hanging gardens, and the imposing palace of Sultan Osman the Prudent, who recently celebrated his Golden Jubilee as leader.

For those who have the money, status, and ambition, Virang is a place of great opportunity, authoritarian absolute monarchy aside, occasionally. However, there is another side to this prosperous nation: a darker one.

Far away from the shimmering cities, perched majestically on the banks of the mighty Miharapori, the countryside is dotted with numerous small towns and rural villages. Life in these places is hard and short, with disease and malnutrition rampant. Competition for good land is fierce, and the jungle is unforgiving. When cleared, it fights back with poor soil, parasites, displaced wild animals, and fiercely territorial semi-contacted tribes. Yet, the wheels of progress and profit churn ever forward and, year upon year, there is ever less virgin forest remaining and more given over to the production of sugar, coffee, rubber, and other cash crops that benefit the wealthy nobles and merchants of the great cities.

Yet, poverty and desperation are not confined to the forgotten rural environs. In the very shadow of the Silverstar Idasque there hunker the urban poor: peddlers, pickpockets, prostitutes, and invalids. Justice is brutal and draconian: limbs amputated, eyes put out, public flogging and stoning, or - perhaps worse - slavery. From atop their great arched palaces complete with libraries, observatories, frescoes, and reflecting pools, the grand families of Virang preside over armies of hopeless thralls, who live and die to do their bidding. This is the cost of 'prosperity'.[/hider]
[hider=Malabash][center][h2][u]The Humble Neighbour[/u][/h2][/center]
At the risk of creating a false binary, it may not be much of an exaggeration to say that, in national character, Malabash is the consistent antithesis of its prosperous and brutal southern neighbour: Virang. A younger state but older nation, it has long been a wild, independent place, staunchly resisting attempts to 'civilize' it for hundreds of years. The country as we know it has only truly come together over the past three centuries, as a series of marriage alliances, small wars, and the growing threat of Virangish and Torragonese conquest galvanized its disparate but related peoples into both seeing themselves as and forming a common nation. 

Yet, it was not the native Malabashi who led the charge, but rather the exiled leadership of the displaced Zaqhory peoples of what is now Torragon. Under their hardened guidance, the rugged peasant peoples of the Malabashi highlands forged themselves into flexible, effective, and tenacious guerilla fighters, using their homeland's unforgiving terrain to their advantage. Within less than two decades a country had been forged where once a land of petty chieftains, Emirs, and lordlings had been. 

Today's Malabash is a place that remembers its roots. Indeed, there are imposing public buildings, but beautification for its own sake - grand statues and fountains - is seen as wasteful, for the soil is mediocre in two thirds of the country and there is little in the way of valuable resources. Instead, the Sultans of this land have been clever to cultivate a different sort of wealth, in the form of a rivalry between their nobles for the love and attention of the commonfolk. They compete to outdo each other in the realm of public works, and public works - in particular - with actual use. Malabashi engineering has created stunning aqueducts, sewer systems, roads, and theatres. If its libraries aren't nearly as grand as those of Virang, they are packed with practical knowledge and far more accessible to the people.

These people are simple, unsophisticated, and hardworking in character. Many laugh at them behind their backs, for they are almost unbearably provincial at times, far more able to speak with you about how to breed a strong mule than the positions of the eleven planets or the latest politics of Perrence. The character of Malabash is overwhelmingly rural with the exception of a handful of coastal cities, including the rapidly-expanding trade metropolis of Mahanzir, which has recently displaced the ancient capital of Ashidanbar as the country's largest population center. Urban or rural, the people are almost universally devout, almost to a fault: Malabashi keep the gods, praying three times each day (each time to two gods), facing in the direction of their most beloved thing in the world, as good Darhannists should do. 

There are merchants in the cities, of course, and their trade is increasingly lucrative as a result of Malabash's geographic proximity to ReTan, Nikan, and the wealth of the West.  The buyers and sellers of this nation are known for being resourceful, bullish, and stingy, but they believe in the creed of Vashdal and are eager to see the head deity awaken to a world in balance as opposed to a nightmare. The merchants are tough, but honest. Revidians, Virangish, Perrench, and Paggonians scoff at them. 

This is something that the young Sultana, Amara III, has been looking to change. It is a careful balancing act. In contrast to the insatiable appetites of Virang, Malabashi prefer their movement to come in increments at best. As she attempts to leverage the infrastructure left her to turn her nation of farmers, fawning nobles, and Gods-fearing peasants into a great power and a net exporter of not only ideas and labour, but valued goods, she must be careful to stay true to tradition and continuity. Not doing so could leave the door open to rivals both internal and external, or the collapse of a country which has always thrived on continuity.[/hider]
[hider=Inipor]...[/hider]
[hider=Kerremand][center][h2]Kerremand: A Profile[/h2][/center]

Kerremand, known as Cirrimania in Avincian, occupies the southern coast of The Gods' Eye: a massive brackish lake or small sea formed from the remnants of an ancient crater. Through this it enjoys tenuous access to the Ensollian Sea through the narrows to either side of the Isle de Mirabeau. While its economy, managed by thrifty burghers and trade guilds is strong, Kerremand is hard-pressed to defend itself against multiple aggressive neighbours. Its rivalry with Huulendam (known as Holmania to the Avincians) is centuries old, dating back to the collapse of the original Eskandish kingdoms. The two constantly joust for territory, trade, and influence, though Huulendam has no desire to absorb the Kerreman state or cause it to collapse, since it provides a buffer with the increasingly unfriendly yasoi states of Mycormi and Hypari to the northeast. Crisia, straining under the yoke of Perrench vassalization, occasionally makes halfhearted attempts to gain territory across the river Saleste. Even tiny Feska remains a stubbornly independent little county, acting as a tax haven. 

The Kerreman language is very much like English in that its roots are Eskandish but much of its vocabulary is Avincian-based. Most Kerreman nobles and merchants speak passable Avincian and Perrench and, for the most part are a diligent, business-minded people. They regularly fight small wars with longtime enemies and minor states, but will generally avoid large ones, preferring to maintain neutrality so as not to damage relationships and to profit off of them. Kerremand is known for producing large amounts of paper from its forests, mechanical clocks, and quality beers. In general, Kerremans are noted for their competitive nature and steadfast determination. Though one rarely gets the sense of a fiery temper or anything personal about their rivalries, they simply never give up. Most hold that they like to win because winning puts them in a better position. Who doesn't want to be in a better position?

Kerremans also have the reputation of being less-than-generous, for the most part. They believe that your station in life is where the Gods placed you and that, if you are meant to better it, you will work hard and do so. If not, they prefer to look after their own except in cases of enlightened self-interest.

Families tend to be mid-sized and tight-knit socially if not fiscally. It is a patriarchal society, but one which prides itself on a degree of chivalry and treating women with respect. Increasingly, though, it is embracing the new humanism and greater opportunities for Kerreman women are on the horizon. Politically, Kerremand is a constitutional monarchy with absolute primogeniture. Each city of over 5000 inhabitants is headed by a Bürgermeister, and the council of ten Bürgermeisters meets yearly each Somnes in the capital to parley with the monarch and advise him or her on policy.[/hider]
[hider=Mycormi]...[/hider]
[hider=Joru] [center][h2]A Shining Beacon on a Hill[/h2][/center]While it is best known today for the revolution that saw it topple its millennium-old monarchy as well as its monarch's head from his shoulders, sparking the most significant military conflict of the past century, Joru has a much longer and more tangled history than many might know. Before the unification of most Belzaggic peoples under Hazwumi the Wise, Joru had long been the most powerful nation of East Severa. This new balance of power was not something that either the people or monarchs of the country could easily accept, and the newly-formed super-state to their East certainly made many exploratory offers and threats for the proud Jorubans to join their coalition of Belzaggic peoples... under Hazwumi, of course.

At first, the people and their monarchs marched in lockstep, proudly resisting their new rival but, in time, as the futility of trying to play against a nation far out of their league became clearer and the economic hardships brought on by a trade war became more acute, something happened within Joru. 

Some called it a great intellectual or philosophical awakening and, certainly, it was led by philosophers of the famed Stresian Order of Joru. Their treatises were not rooted strictly in the rhetoric of divine generosity, judgement, and agency. Rather, they stressed the role of choice and [i]human[/i] agency as provided by Dami and the benefits of reason as provided by Shune. These philosophers, known as the Karoists (after their first leader, Yobind Karo) believed that the Gods of the Pentad had intentionally not provided humans with all of the answers so that they could use these two gifts and the gift of magic to learn for themselves. Thus, they applied the principles of rigorous, rational research, based on observable evidence, repeatability, and mathematical data in their approach to fields as disparate as natural sciences, politics, economics, agriculture, magic, warfare, and the study of the human psyche. In this golden age of intellectualism, it seemed that not a day passed when some new theory or treatise was not published. Newsletters, bulletins, and speeches filled the minds and hearts of the Joruban people, and soon, even their practical-minded neighbours, the Torragonians and Azjulish. The ideas of the Karoists spread rapidly through the upper crust of society, but were gobbled up with particular voraciousness by the Merchant and Artisan classes. Applied in these fields, the new Karoist method soon paid dividends. Joru rose from the ashes of its economic hardship like a phoenix and, for the remainder of his reign, King Oswentu III was quite content with what his people were doing. Certainly, it had allowed him to claim that he had led the nation in a recovery from his predecessor's disastrous trade policies.

And yet, as with all good things, it was not to last, for there was one key feature which was in complete tension with his rule. Increasingly, prominent Karoists held that, if man - and woman, for they believed both sexes equally endowed by Shune and Dami - had been equipped to make rational choices, then why was it that they had no choice in their leader? As the king lay on his deathbed, whispers of this notion rose into murmurs and the murmurs grew ever louder. He left with Ahn-Eshiran, much mourned, but perhaps not as much as he'd hoped, and it was spoken of in many village squares that his rather indulgent state funeral had drawn fewer crowds than that of Yobind Karo, who had passed only two weeks earlier.  

Hence, with no true solution and the path already much-traveled, the issue was left at the doorstep of his son and successor: Oswentu IV. Indeed, if many had found the former king's funeral and many statues a bit wasteful, they found the new king's colossal mortuary complex that had begun construction in Abu Singo distasteful and indulgent in the extreme: the idolatry of a despot. Quietly, this verbal rebellion was suppressed by Old Somnians, with the clandestine assistance of Rezaindian blades and donations from his majesty. Couched in pseudo-Karoist terms, the necessity of national unity against the threat of Belzagg and its allies was given much exposure. Yet, the discontent only grew. People knew when they were being manipulated. Unlike his father, this new Oswentu had been educated in Belzagg. His education had been conservative and his embrace of what was increasingly becoming the nation's guiding philosophy lukewarm at best.

Karoists, now under the leadership of Semeni Kidosi, Amon Uzagg, and Atundo Yibozo, began to openly challenge his noble prerogative and divinely-appointed right to rule. The young monarch quickly came to view them as an existential threat. Yet, their teachings had already spread to every corner of society. Karoist brothers and sisters (monks and nuns) preached across the countryside, in dry season and rainy, in the little jungle villages, the proud, sprawling savannah towns with their lion-proofed fences and dusty compounds, and the great port cities with their spires and minarets that soared into the baking sun. 

When the Karoists were declared heretics by the king, it was far too late to un-turn the page. Their libraries were raided and their books burned. Monks were crucified in the streets. Nuns hung from trees. Yet, their writings survived in cellars and attics. Their preachers were sheltered in homes both humble and grand. The agents of the monarch were met with blank expressions and an unusually forgetful citizenry when they went out searching for these enemies of the crown.

So what did Oswentu do? He responded in the only way that his education had taught him: with brutality. Soldiers broke into homes. Those harbouring Karoists and all of their extended families were put to the sword. Villages were razed. Lady Kidosi and Zeno Uzagg burnt at the stake and Major Yibozo was forced into hiding. Under the iron fist of Oswentu the Terrible, Joru bled. 

It might've ended there. The country retreated inwards in shockwaves of fear and panic. The king had asserted his authority in the face of heresy, but people would not forget. In smaller, less obvious ways they fought back. Merchant ships, many of which had once borne some reference to the royal house in their names, were quietly retitled. Families with strong associations to the monarchy were subtly ostracized. The popular rural game of Zigguratal Spitting saw its highest-point post - gold - renamed the 'royal post' and often painted with the image of his majesty. Ostensibly, this was an honour, but it also gave the people an excuse to spit at their ruler without consequence. Oswentu, ever sensitive and repressive, banned the popular pastime upon pain of public flogging for a first offense, amputation for a second, and death for a third. 

Atundo Yibozo saw his opportunity and seized it, rallying a small, loyal cadre of troops as he came out of hiding. In a contest attended by crowds so thick that they blocked the crown's forces, he made a point of hitting the royal post again and again. By the rules of the game, it was a poor performance, to say the least, due to his lack of bounces along the way, but victory in a single game had not been the goal. When soldiers tried to seize him, Major Yibozo gave a speech. While there are many versions of it that have been provided since, and the now-President of Joru has allowed the legend to propagate itself, the most famous and oft-quoted line remains, "I go to my death with my head held high, for I die with full knowledge of the causes and consequences of my actions. I die with a clear understanding of the truth, and that is the truest mark of freedom that one can achieve." 

Five hundred of the king's soldiers turned that day rather than fight their former comrades under the future president's command. Rebellion spread through much of the army. Statues were toppled, flags torn down, and barricades built in the streets of Yabusa, Korminan, and Zangarr. Oswentu IV, despite his public show of might, had always been a weak man, with only braggart's shallow strength. Desperate to maintain his image in the face of a popular uprising, he did little to court those who would have yet settled for a return of the Karoist order or offered him the more limited crown of constitutional monarch. Instead, he turned to Belzagg and became an undying enemy of his people. His name shall live in infamy.

The great armies of that great nation certainly could've come and crushed the brave revolutionaries of Joru, and they would've were it not for two key events. The first was the blockading of the eastern border, which led to the king escaping by ship into the deserts of Torragon. There, he and his small retinue would not remain free for long, being captured within days by elements of that nation's famed Red Riders. Faced with a diplomatic crisis, king Sancho of Torragon reached out to his newly-elected Revidian counterpart, Doge Prospero Malatesta, called l'Anguilla (the eel) and the two countries decided upon a plan. They agreed to release King Oswentu should he agree to guarantee the right of the Joruban people to solve their internal disputes amongst themselves without foreign interference. With no intention of keeping his word on the matter, the deposed monarch eagerly signed the declaration. In fact, both Sancho and Prospero fully expected the decree to be violated by Belzaggic forces, and it was, along with the neutrality of other smaller nations that their soldiers marched through along the way. 

The conflict that followed was the defining military and political event of the tenth century AA. Much has been written about it in other places but, the result was that the king lost his life - justified by Karoist philosophy on the practical grounds that the nation could not move forward while he remained alive and a lightning rod for intrigue. The new Republic of Joru was declared, the class system abolished, the separation of church and state confirmed, and the Constitution on the Rights and Responsibilities of the Rational Citizenry propagated. That the Jorubans looked upon their Revidian, Torragonese, and Kerreman allies with gratitude was a certainty. However, it was also an open secret that each of these three powerful nations had wished for something quite a bit less radical to have coalesced. 

The Joru of today both benefits from and struggles with its legacy and its status as a beacon of reform. Its alliances are strong on paper but uneasy in practice. Should Torragon and Belzagg go to war again (as is looking thankfully less likely at the moment), the battlegrounds would almost certainly be on republic soil. There are radicals here too: those who call for the complete abolition of property, government, and religion. Officially, they are condemned by President Yibozo's administration, which has ruled for fifteen years under increasing accusations of corruption and nepotism. For his part, the president denies any involvement and has been seen to come down hard on those caught red-handed. And yet, for each of these troubles, Joru on the whole stands as a shining example to the rest of the world of what a free, informed, and determined citizenry can achieve and for what the society of the future might look like.
[center][h2]The Legend of Bwan Somiji[/h2][/center]
Bwan Somiji goes by a number of related names but, in all cases, is a monster from  East Severan folk tradition. He is depicted as a tall, gangling man with sharp teeth, a huge mouth, and pale greyish-white skin. He was once a banker, big and fat, with healthy-coloured skin, but his greed led him to call in his loans early and he snatched the new year's feast right off the plate of a Rezaindian Nun. She begged Ahn-Eshiran to curse him, but there was no response. Five times in total, this happened, to five different acolytes of Eshiran, while he himself was often wasteful of food. Thus, the god was finally moved to act, placing a blood magic spell on him that would destroy any food that Bwan Somiji ate after it had only lasted five seconds in his stomach. She also gave him eternal life by declining to ever bless him with the release of death, so that his suffering might serve as an example to others. He wanders the countryside now, attacking and eating children who refuse to eat good food in a fit of jealousy.[/hider]
[hider=Feska][center][h2]The Oligarchy[/h2][/center]Among the many nations of the twin continents, Feska stands out as something of an oddity: a small duchy that never got absorbed into the Kingdom of Kerremand as it was coalescing, it occupies the deepest part of the swampy area where the Lorentz River meets the inland sea of the Gods' Eye. Much of the area is naturally mangroves and floodplains, but the Feskans are most famous for being the only people able to cultivate a very rare and valuable crop: the spratzpepper. No true pepper at all, but rather a berry which only grows in semi-submerged paddies, it produces a sweet, almost powdery liquid when squeezed that is similar to sugar but much easier on the teeth and fuller and richer in flavour. The plant is notoriously temperamental and knowledge of its cultivation is passed down between generations. Every acre of this small country that isn't untraversable swamp is covered in vast spratzpepper plantations, all of which are owned or pay tribute to the five great families who ruthlessly ensure their country's monopoly. 

The ducal prerogative rotates between these five houses and the country is unusual in that the nobility makes up roughly fifty percent of its official population (which is very small). About two fifths of that is the five houses while most of the remainder are Spratzfreiherrs (Spratzbarons). These are, in effect, long lineages of yeoman farmers who have perfected their craft and carry the secrets of spratzpepper cultivation with them. They care for the crops and patrol the borders, presiding over a transient population of non-citizens made up largely of itinerant or indentured labourers and slaves. 

As land is at a premium and agriculture is the lifeblood of this small nation, most settlements are built entirely on the water, with great floating bazaars, shops, inns, churches, and gambling houses chained to each other and the river or lakebed. The last of these, in particular, have become increasingly lucrative as of late. The five Markgraf families maintain dry land holdings but, in practice, occupy stilted palaces on the bayou that make up the five points of the Sign of the Pentad. They often travel lazily about the river and shallows on enormous, flat-bottomed riverboats with flowing sails and rumbling clockwork paddlewheels. 

Most Spratzfreiherrs have smaller riverboats of their own, but these are ofen workmanlike craft as opposed to palaces of leisure. For practicality's sake, these lower nobles generally live on the land that they preside over, in tall, narrow homes stacked floor over floor, with spiraling staircases and covered bridges used as livable space themselves. In some cases, famlies make the most of otherwise-unusable land by arcing their constructions over rivers or utilizing thick mangrove trunks as pilings. 

Aside from the slaves, who occupy the prisonlike Schlammstadt (mud town) on the floodplain, the labourers who do the duchy's dirty work are almost exclusively confined to the neidrige boote (low boats). These are large, sluggish barges packed full of bunks, which ply the river, picking up and dropping off their charges at the various plantations and taking them back in the evenings. In practice, these are flithy, claustrophobic places, full of rotten planks, rats, and inhuman stench. While some cater to members of both sexes, many accept only women or (more commonly) only men in order to prevent the 'hassle' of sexual assaults and violence. 

Most importantly, they look to prevent births on Feskan soil, for birth on the actual land of this place is a guarantee of citizenship. In practice, most unwanted claims are easily denied by the nobles in charge of the courts, but it is a hassle nonetheless. The privilege of birthing on the land is reserved for those whose forebears were born there. Indeed, most higher-ranking families maintain 'maternity houses' on dry land, where heavily pregnant women will go to give birth and nurse their newborns out of infancy. It is, after all, considered ill-fortune for a child of privilege to be born offshore.[/hider]
[hider=Tan Keoul][center][h2]Cheol Sang-Nam: Emperor of Tan Keoul[/h2][/center][hr]
The current emperor of Tan Keoul, the despotic Cheol Sang-nam is generrally regarded as a fearsome and cruel man. His grip on power seems so absolute that it is hard to imagine a scenario where he did not come to rule. However, during his early years, he was considered a longshot at best. Sang-nam was actually the eldest son of the emperor's second concubine and sixth in line for the throne. 

His older half-brother Sang-un, was the first son of the empress and was kind and good and tried to listen to the people. Tan Keoul had had a few neglectful and incompetent rulers in a row and the peasantry was furious as a famine took hold. The thing is, it had actually been partially caused by their father, Sang-il. The emperor was a very academic man, with his nose always buried in books and only trusting the word of the most eminent philosophers, theorists, and priests. Unable to deal with the mess left by the last two emperors, he insulated himself from the world as a coping mechanism and, while well intended, was horribly out of touch. Around him, the court was a pit of vipers and it was here that Sang-name was raised, with his mother being the most ambitious and scheming of all. He both loved and hated her.

When he was twenty-one and the official heir, Sang-un went in person to try to quell a peasant riot to demonstrate how his leadership would be different from his father's, and Sang-nam, then thirteen, went with him.  Things went well at first, but the leaders of the peasantry soon became aware that there was no real action on the part of the government, just the crown prince personally helping their one small group.  When they demanded that he overthrow his father and he strongly refused, things got out of control and a riot erupted. Sang-un was killed. Young Sang-nam, who was already taking a darker path than his brother and who had developed doubts about Sang-un's approach, nonetheless aspired to be like him. Instead, he watched his brother killed by the people he'd tried to embrace. The teenager held nothing back and slaughtered dozens of the scum who'd harmed his brother using the Gift. He learned that you could not reason with people who were incapable of seeing even their own best interests. The peasantry were stupid, violent subhumans to be kept in line by force, provided for as necessary, and used as a resource when needed.

Over the next few years, he dedicated himself fully to his mother's ruthless approach as she groomed him for the throne. He became seen as a strong and decisive young man, much in contrast to his pacifistic, academic, and dithering father and his overidealistic half-brothers. Sang-nam was able to supplant the heirs of the 'weaker bloodlines' and rise to the top, bullying his father using the military's loyalty and the opinion of the noble houses who favoured a strong approach. 

Yet, even as he consolidated his position as heir, his mother would not allow him to kill off his two much younger brothers. Sang-nam began to suspect (not without some merit) that she was scheming to have one supplant him. They were much more malleable people: weak-willed and easier for her to control. That also meant that they were easier for [i]him [/i]to control, and he secretly won over the younger and stupider of the two, who looked up to him in the same way he had once looked up to Sang-un. Fearing that his mother would soon use her influence over elements of the palace guard and members of the civil service to move against him and install his second brother, he could wait no longer to inherit.

Sang-nam had his father poisoned and made it look as if he had been framed for the deed by his ambitious and scheming mother, with whom he'd engineered a recent public falling-out. When the planted evidence against her came to light, it was his youngest brother, Sang-won, who revealed it, and her rage against him for his betrayal made her seem all the less sympathetic in the public eye. Sang-nam nonetheless remained locked up within his palace rooms, under guard, as his mother tried to have his second brother, Sang-wu, crowned emperor. Yet, outside, the true crown prince's noble and military supporters were outraged. Eight out of the ten great houses declined to attend the coronation or participate in the traditional show of fealty. Instead, they demanded that the now-chief concubine be investigated and her role in the emperor's death discovered. 

Sang-nam, from behind bars, made a public show of counseling calm and understanding, but he had agents of his secret urban intelligence service, the Lotus Sentry, brought into the capitol area under the guise of peasants campaigning for his release. Paradoxically, there were many among the poor - particularly in cities - who respected and favoured his harsh approach as crown prince over the benign neglect of previous rulers. When the chemist who had prepared the poison was found and interrogated, it was actually a member of the Sentry who had been in deep cover for years. She attested to the buyer being a known agent of the second son, Sang-wu. His mother quickly claimed complete ignorance and innocence of the deed and, at that point, their alliance fell apart, with Sang-wu also claiming to have no knowledge of the ghastly scheme. In the eyes of the public, this looked like nothing so much as a conspiracy unraveling, both main parties seeking to shove the other under to prove their dubious innocence. 

Against mounting evidence and public disfavour, th second concubine then changed her approach. She directly accused her eldest son, Sang-nam, of having framed her, but he was nearly immune her slander. Why, he asked, would he have made himself look so guilty at first had he framed her? Truly, someone capable of such scheming cruelty would not have been so clumsy. Besides, as everyone knew, he was a military man, and not much for such palace intrigue. Still, the courts, controlled by elements of the civil service strongly in her debt, would not budge.

On the thirty-ninth day of the crisis, elements of the Lotus Sentry, embedded within the urban peasantry, whipped up a riot and stormed the prison within the palace compound. They freed the heroic, sympathetic Sang-nam and murdered the disloyal palace guard. He was crowned emperor of Tan Keoul to celebrations in the city streets and wary watchfulness in country villages. To much fanfare, he purged the courts of 'corrupt elements', streamlined the 'bureaucracy' of the civil service, and eliminated the palace guard, replacing them with a brand new institution: the Lotus Sentry, whose memebers were taken not fromt he elites, but from among the common people. 

Meanwhile, the would-be-king, Sang-wu, was fond guilty of patricide and the attempt to have his innocent brother framed for the murder. He was executed. The new emperor's younger brother, Sang-won, was also swept up in the investigation. His earlier reveal of his mother's and Sang-wu's guilt had been motivated by his own guilty conscience. Sang-nam punlicly counseled leniency for his brother, but stacked the proceedings against him. He, too, was executed. The courts went so far as to press for a similar punishment for his mother, but here Sang-nam vetoed them. With so much of his dear family dead, he could not bear the thought of killing his own mother. That would be the deed of a monster. Howevr, he acknowledged that he could not trust her. He could not truly even look at her after what she had done. She was sent to live out her remainig years in seclusion in a drafty tower at the infamous Yodok prison on a remote island. Three years later, she was dead, of suicide, it was said. 

Over the next decade, Sang-nam consolidated his grip on the country, mostly to the cheers of its populace. That he is a harsh king is well-known, and opprtunities within the civil service have dried up during his tenure. The courts and lawmaking bodies have grown opaque. The rural peasantry have been dealt with harshly when they're raised their voices in petition or dissent. Taxes, too, have risen and Tan Keoul's military has grown. Many of his subjects have begun to sour on his rule. A handful even whisper that perhaps his mother and brother were right. However, there is no longer anything that they can do. Given the way that he was raised, was there ever really a chance that Cheol Sang-nam would not become a tyrant? [/hider]
[hider=Djamant][center][h2]Djamant: a Profile[/h2][/center]
[b]Capital City:[/b] Torrigriż

[b]Leadership:[/b] Duke Carlo III Lantisca (de jure), Sir Bastjan Vella (de facto)

[b]Notable:[/b] A country Djamant's size should be little more than a footnote. Yet, this small island nation is blessed with being the only sinificant landmass in its area of the Ensollian Sea, sitting astride or just off of a number of major trade routes. Populated since antiquity and formerly a part of the Avincian Empire, it is home to one of the twin continents' most ancient civilizations, with some ruins dating back over five thousand years and fossil evidence of a number of non-human sentient peoples having lived there. Off the coast lie the ruins of the 'Golden City of Cervan', held to be possessed by foul spirits and haunted by Eeaiko bandits and with many of its treasures supposedly still unclaimed. Legend goes that the immense and advanced civilization there collapsed into the sea as part of a series of large earthquakes seven thousand years ago. Many stories blame the people's wanton misuse of their knowlede and a challenge to the Pentad as a cause, though there is no definitivve evidence one way or another.

Whatever their distant ancestors might have been like, the modern people of Djamant are hardy, friendly, boisterous, and not a bit unscrupulous when need be. They are devoutly Quentic, but rarely outright dogmatic. A 'work hard, play hard' mentality tends to prevail here. Cuisine takes advantage of a semiarid tropical climate, with ample pastoral land and some decent farmland. Pygmy versions of many species common elsewhere can be found on Djamant due to island dwarfism with verdant and aromatic wildflowers abounding in a great many varieties. Honey production is a staple industry, along with farming, fishing, glassmaking, and the single diamond mine that gives the island its name in the local language. This, in fact, is a hybrid of Virangish and Revidian, with Torragonese, Balbrish, and Perrench influences thrown in.

The one other 'industry' that Djamant has become well-known for is privateering and, in particularly lean times, outright piracy. Letters of marque are regularly issued to the Sovereign Order of the Knights of Sant Iermu to hunt down pirates and smugglers, and prey upon the shipping of enemies of the church: most often that of Darhannic nations and yasoi. In practice, many of these same pirates and smuglers use Djamant's harbours as a home base, paying the local authorities to turn a blind eye and fattening the local economy with their stolen gold.

[center][h2]The Festa[/h2][/center]Though Djamantese sometimes appear rabidly Quentic and, in truth, tend to be quite devout as the only ethnically West Severan people of this faith, they are also notable for using their religion as an excuse to party. Every village on the island has its own patron saint and each has a designated feast day. These are conveniently spaced throughout the year so that one can simply travel from one village to the next every couple of weeks to attend one of these 'Festas'. Proceedings begin with an hour of solemn prayer and giving thanks the evening before, followed by a candlelight vigil and a morning parade. Then, the bands start playing during the parade and, as the statue of the saint is brought to the church and blessed, the music gets louder and raunchier. The alcohol starts to flow and everyone is dancing before long, covered in feathered boas, big goofy hats, and ridiculous pointy shoes. 

At some point, someone always throws a tomato and everyone else pulls out the food they've been hiding, just waiting for this moment. The food fights begin and spread very quickly, and then the bridge and cactus tag games. The streets are turned into a giant open air drinking garden and, as the sun sets, people start lighting fireworks, running around like maniacs in weird costumes, and doing cannonballs into the water. It is nothing short of pure debauchery. Then, as the sun rises, the members of that village put all of their fun things away until a couple of months later, when they 'lend' them to a neighbouring village so that they can be 'guests' in their 'solemn' celebration. 
[/hider]
[hider=Miatto][center][h2]Miatto: A Profile[/h2][/center]
[b]Capital City:[/b] Irachos

[b]Leadership:[/b] Queen Diana III (absolute monarch)

[b]Notable:[/b] Proud Miattans exist. In fact, many in this midsized, geographically fragmented nation are quietly quite patriotic. As an offshoot of the neighbouring Thalak culture, Miatto is, in fact, one of the cradles of Ensollian civilization. While it has never been a true great power, it has certainly fallen from what was once a degree of political, military, and economic influence. This was long ago, however, and the much-reduced state of Miatto is, today, just as often associated with its status as a longstanding rope in the endless tug-of-war between Perrence and Revidia. This political struggle has turned particularly aggressive over the past century following the annexation of the Duchy of Hepatia by the Perrench under Benedict the Blessed. This move, along with dynastic connections, has turned Miatto into little more than a satellite of its mighty neighbour. With the recent power shifts, however, and Revidian encouragement of arts, culture, and trade funding, their have been stirrings of rebellion, some even from the Queen herself.

[b]Culture:[/b] Miattans are a simple people, religiously devout, fond of meats, cheeses, seafood dishes, and other savoury foods, much for idle relaxation following bouts of hard work. They are, in most respects, similar in culture to their brethern in Thalakos, and far removed from their grand past. The majority are fishermen or farmers, using the vast rolling fields of their homeland as pasture. They have a reputation for being warm, friendly, and informal with everybody, but subtly grasping and extortionist with those less familiar to them. Paradoxically, they're noted for their generosity, so who can say which, precisely is true, or perhaps even both are. Miattans [i]are [/i]known for their ability to spin stories, after all.[/hider]
[hider=Xochiyeiteteo][h2]Xochiyeiteteo: Empire of the Sun[/h2]
[b]Name:[/b] Xochiyeiteteo (land of three gods)
[b]Capital:[/b] Calicoatl (home of serpents) & Altepecehualli (shadow city)
[b]Population:[/b] 28 million
[b]Government:[/b] Tricameral Elective Monarchy - Secular, Ecclesiastical, Shadow
[b]Religion:[/b] Yeiteteo Piloa (search for the three gods)
[b]Overview:[/b] One of the three great empires of Callanast, along with Sawand and Vossoriya, Xochiyeiteteo (known to some in the twin continents as Xolectoxo) is a vast country with a varied landscape and a very large population. Religiously, economically, and militarily aggressive, it is the regional great power of Western Callanast and often extracts tribute from its lesser neighbours in the form of trade goods and human captives. Three of these are selected for sacrifice each month to land, sea, and sky, the portals through which it is believed that the gods enter the realm of mortals in the form of three great serpents. Like almost anything of import, this takes place in Calicoatl, the sprawling capital of Xochiyeiteteo. A metropolis of some 500,000 people, it is built on a vast drained floodplain and famed for its lush gardens, scenic canals, and monumental architecture, with gold-capped temples, palaces, and ziggurats soaring into the burning tropical sun.[/hider]