bloonewb

Magic RP (Open to new players)

Just use the discord to communicate

Magic RP (Open to new players)

Busy, but fine

Magic RP (Open to new players)

Two sources elemental . . . Mardex slumped and rested a talon on his snout. Riddles were not his strength. He was a soldier, damn it all. He had not a head for flowery language or . . . whatever this was. He wracked his brain, trying to find an answer. All the time, the mage's eyes watched him, steady as an eagle and double as predatory. He began to ramble, piecing his knowledge together in a stream of barely coherent phrases.

"Two sources elemental . . . fire? Earth? Fire and earth . . . " he mused. It sounded about right. "Chore is ore, aim is flame . . . metal. The metal itself, or a metallurgist . . . so what do I hope to gain?" He readied his answer, expecting the worst. "Strength. The strength found within metal, both firm and yielding. The riddle is about a blacksmith, is it not?"

Magic RP (Open to new players)

"I understand . . . I think," Ardasa said. There was a reverence in the way the older woman conducted herself, that commanded her own respect. It was almost as if Aerta were the empress, and she a mere dignitary. "Fate will move by its own hand, we shall see about the rest."
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"Look about you, blacksmith," Mardex said. "This is your home. The beating heart of an empire blessed by gods, dragons, and fate. The future birthplace for scores of kobolds, to number as the stars. The seat of the emperor, and the emperors after, for as long as time shall stand. Here, you will find that fighting for glory, the empire's, your own, mine, it is all the same. The only question that remains is whether you will or you will not fight. Dare I speak to the emperor, and tell him of my failure in securing a strong and steady hand to wield a sword in his legion? Dare I mention your name to him, and hide my face to cover my shame?" Mardex willed his eyes up to meet the other's. The fire has become especially potent, he could see. He is playing with forces too powerful for most kobolds to even comprehend.

Magic RP (Open to new players)

I'm having difficulty writing, is all

Magic RP (Open to new players)

Ardasa fell silent, listening to the fire and brimstone warning of the dracon mother. Never trust the soothsayer, the old folk saying goes. Yet, the woman sitting before her was no mere soothsayer. She was possessed of power, easily comparable to the magic of even the greatest kobold magi. The question remains, whether she shall use her wisdom in the preservation of Xigyll, or its destruction. Perhaps there will never be a certain answer, until these future events come to pass.

"Please, tell me of the future," Ardasa said, reverence in her voice. "I want to know what must be done to protect my people, who love me as I them. I need to know of the threats to our livelihood, to our humble existence we have sought cradled in the arms of rivers and mountains. Please. If you truly are a friend to Xigyll. Advise us on our future, that we may follow and prosper."
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"Zandex," Mardex mused. "A pleasure to know your name. Forgive my priests, they are . . . zealous, in their loyalty to higher powers, be they the gods, the emperor, or myself. It is one of the traits I seek within a priest. I find religion to be a comforting influence, in a life such as mine, surrounded by war and danger. The gods, through their mortal voices on the earth, tell us of their grace, that we may reside in upon our own passing." He took a swig from his own mug and set it down with the clack of wood upon wood. "You say you are a fighter? I am surprised, my friend, that you either left the imperial legion following the treaty of Merat, or had never joined in the first place. That is a shame, for the empire finds itself still stretched of its precious army, and my own forces especially so. I believe your glory still awaits you in battle, if you would allow me to say." His eyes. They were all-seeing eyes, possessed only of kobold wielders of magic. Whether or not they could truly divine the truth from lies simply by sight, the legends do not say. However, they are unmistakable to those who would recognize it. They glow in low light such as this tavern, flickering as if a pair of fires sat behind the retina. This power Mardex must gain hold of, he is so close!

Magic RP (Open to new players)

"Certainly," Ardasa said. In her mind, however, she was less certain than ever. "Wait right here, I'll have everything brought." A passing guard caught her attention, and she quickly ran up to him. "Quickly, do we have any fruit?"

"Erm . . . " the guard stuttered, wracking his brains. "I don't think the fruit comes until tomorrow. We have bread . . . "

"Don't worry about it, just . . . here," Ardasa said, shaking a few coins from her pockets. "Go down to the market. Search every stall for some fruit." The soldier gave her a strange look, but shuffled off, pocketing the silver as he did. Ardasa returned to the room, splaying her hands and smiling. "I'm sure it's no trouble at all," she said. "It truly is good of you to worry about our state. I'm sure Kali would not have called you here if she didn't believe you could do good by our little empire." She nervously paced about the room, rearranging the books on the shelves, then placing them back. "If it's not too much to ask . . . you wouldn't happen to have the ear of any prominent leaders of your homeland, would you? We are always in need of friends, and if you are a friend of ours, then they ought be as well. I don't want to impose this task on you, our guest but . . . politics, I suppose."
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"Who's yeh?" a rowdy soldier shouted, as a stranger entered the Pig's Hoof tavern. He raised his tankard and took another large swill of the drink. "Get outs here, ye daff, this is a legion's bar!" He spit in the general direction of the newcomer. Mardex grabbed the soldier's arm.

"I suggest you wait outside," he growled. The soldier tried to protest, but Mardex stood up to his full height, marginally above the soldier's and he meekly ambled out with a weak salute.

"I'm sorry, stranger," Mardex said, sitting down by the newcomer. "Let's have a drink, on my tab." He tried to hide the grimace on his face, thinking about the coins he had spent today. The legionnaire was no more drunk than he. It was an act they play, every once in a while, watching the door as kobolds entered, drank, and exited. He must have bought a tankard for everyone who walked in. However, this was the investment he knew he had to pay, if he wanted to take the future at all seriously. Any one of them could be the mysterious mage, whom his spy had convinced to meet him here. "They call me Commander Mardex, of His Might's legionary order. And your name?"

Magic RP (Open to new players)

Having a lot of difficulty writing for this rp. Is it alright if I keep my posts really short and simple for the time being?

Takanis - A Dark Fantasy Nation RP

"Why did you ask me to meet here? You know you're not allowed within," said Guba, calling out to the darkness. The moonlit chamber was massive, stretching far above his head. Large enough to fit a court, which during the day, it did. At night, however, the government, like all other institutions, return to their homes to rest, and one man within is very lonely indeed. Pillars dot the great expanse, casting shadows about and shrouding all but the sections nearest to the massive window in pitch. It was before this window Guba stood, peering out at the moon and the land that basks in its light.

"Sas ney tafeca sli, Unitas idir," responded a voice, somewhere in the shadows. His voice, yet someone else's. Guba did not bother to turn.

"Too true," Guba said. He could feel in his bones that tonight was a night of fate. The future called to him through the glass, beckoning him in a way none other than the voice may ever have a chance to understand. "Come join me by the window, brother."

"I would," said the voice, followed by the tapping of sandals upon stone. The dim light exposed a face, Guba's own, and yet not. They were of a form, nearly perfectly in all ways. Two they were, and yet one, so the wise man had once said. Indeed it seemed true, but for their spirits, for the many paths of fate had seen to it that their spirits were made differently. An ironic joke of the universe, perhaps, or a mere error on the part of the cosmos, or less likely, a path intended for them to take, unexpected as it is to them now.

"Gugurta, dare you wear the sword in this hall?" Guba snapped. It made an unmistakable rattle as he walked with it. "With a single demonstration of it, you were thrown from the favor in the palace. Not even our brothers in cause would tolerate such radicalism." Gugurta let his hand travel to the fine hilt of the sword. A Varacci sword it was, light and elegant, so different from the harsh spathae of the legions.

"Do you not like it, brother? I myself find it fetching. We are, after all, of the belief that the poor orkh be lifted of his oppressions in the inner isles. Unless, of course, I had forgotten the day on which we changed causes." It was as if Guba could hear the impish smile on his face. It led him to deepen the furrow in his own brow.

"You're lucky the new king is of our sensibility. I fear the executioner's axe comes baying for our blood. Let us go into the night, brother mine, before your little joke of meeting in this hall grows weary, not only to us but to the eye of the barbaric Optimates. After all, I hear the Cohorta is performing its induction ceremony tonight." With that, Gugurta pulled the head covering tighter around his face, and the two strolled out.
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"Today, is a day of greatness!" shouted Mario. A roaring cheer followed, deep and bellowing. The roar of the Varacco. It carried over the waves, into the sky, so loud even the spirits must hear it. "Greatness for the sun, and greatness for the Sumitaga!"

"Greatness for the sun, and greatness for the Sumitaga!" shouted the young Varacci that joined him. Mario looked into their faces, and saw the conviction he and his cousins had beaten into them.

"When you raised your swords, and swore yourself Cohorti for the first time in your lives, you were but boys and girls." Boos, hisses, and low growls punctuated the words. "Now, as I have seen your tusks grow long, your brave vigor strengthen, I may no longer find these children. I find men, and I find women. Cousins to further the greatness of the Cohorta!"

"Greatness for the Cohorta, greatness for the sun, and greatness for the Sumitaga!"

"I swear to you, my cousins today, and in battle my brothers and sisters, that I, Mario di Aggiapo, shall in my life guide you on the Cohorta warpath, to serve with honor the sun-king's crown, to defend our land, a land of imperator's pride and doge's reverence!"

"Greatness for Mario di Aggiapo, greatness for the Cohorta, greatness for the sun, and greatness for the Sumitaga!"

"Watch the moon rise! Watch as the spirits descend from the sky, and inhabit us, for but a few moments! The moon! The moooon! Agh . . . agh! AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Mario tensed up as he felt the familiar sensation wash over him. That moment, when his spirit falls away and a foreign one rushes in to fill the void left behind. The war-shamans called it "il vegliare somo", the waking sleep. Sleep, however, was the least accurate term for what happens next. The wave of fury washed over the young Varacci, and they too were wracked with the great pains and pleasures of being filled with excessive spiritual power. One young male drew his sword, and with a deafening scream snapped it in two, throwing the shattered remains into the sea. A female beat her fists together, not stopping even as they gushed with blood.

"AWWOOOOOOO! AWWOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Together, they howled at the moon, demonstrating the fury of the Varacci, the fury of the sea and the sky itself.

From a distance, Guba and Gugurta watched, as they had year after year, for many years, beginning when they were children. They knew that hidden in the shadows, many Imasicians enjoyed watching the brief lunacy, some with disgust, others with wonder. They were a magnificent spectacle, these induction rituals. When the shreds of civilization were wrenched away while the flesh remained. Guba, in his heart, longed to be as wild as they in those moments. "Imagine," he whispered. "They serve the king more closely than we."
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"My lord Lucca," said the servant. "A message for you."

"Throw it in the fire," Lucca responded. In his hand was a bottle of rum, once full, but now half empty. "Do not give me that ridiculous look. I know, as well as you, that it was sent from Lady Amara. I wish not to hear from her."

"As you command, my lord," she said. The crackle of the fires intensified for a moment as it was fed fresh parchments. "I take my leave now, if it please you- oh!" she winced, and clutched at her arm.

"What is it?" Lucca asked, standing up. He swayed a bit under his weight, but his eyes remained resolute. He stumbled over to the servant, leaning on the wall for balance. She shook her head, but an intense glare from the near-legendary doge led her to meekly pull up her sleeve, revealing a distinctly spatha-shaped cut wrapped sloppily in cloth. The blood was still wet, by the looks of it. "Where did you get this?"

"I was not careful, my lord. I was visiting the blacksmith's. I asked about your spad-"

"Where? Do you think me stupid?" Lucca was too far gone to contain his usual composure. Lucca the Wise, they called him, despite him being one of the youngest Varacci to ever serve as Serene Doge. They think he does not know, but he realizes that in the far islands, they call him Lucca Augustus, for which they would be killed if the human authorities ever heard.

". . . Il taverna, my lord."

"Who was the dog that would dare lay a hand on my employ? I would castrate him with his own sword!" His nostrils flared, so large they could perhaps swallow a grape.

"A . . . a leggionare, my lord." She shrunk away at the answer.

"Leggionare? On Sendimenti? They would not dare. Why did you not fight, as is your right on this island?" Lucca's face fell from anger to shock. He could not feel them, but he could hear his teeth grinding like stones together.

"I could not! I was afraid. He said . . . if I did not stand still . . . he would tell the Leggiato, who would tell the Senatores, who would break our peace with the Imazzicci." Lucca huffed, and he turned to leave. "Wait, my lord!" the servant cried, descending to her knees. "Do not write to the Imazzicci! I am a woman of the peace, I do not wish to attract the ire of the human signori." Lucca sighed, and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"I will investigate the matter thoroughly," he said, trying to return to his regular, calm tone. "Let it be known that you need not fear any false hands from now on. I shall rest, and think of the matter again in the morning." He stumbled up the stairs to his bedchambers, clutching his head. As he did so, another servant descended the stairs, stopping to bow absentmindedly as the doge passed him. Lucca did not seem to take any notice whatsoever. When the servant reached the bottom of the stairs, he tiptoed over to the other.

"Did you sway him?" he asked.

"Perhaps I did, perhaps I did not," she responded.

"Perhaps," he mused, looking up at the stairs. "You have done a great thing for the Varacci. In time, we shall find ourselves free again, led on by mighty Lucca. Until then, we may only hide and wait. Rest easy tonight. It took much courage to suffer as you did." He pulled an Imasician spatha from his pants as he did so, cracking a wry smile.

"No courage at all, knowing the risk," she responded. The two of them began to chuckle, as old friends do, but immediately stopped, remembering not to awaken the sleeping.

"Good evening, then. Greatness for Amara di Molobenini."

"Greatness for Amara di Molobenini."
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Masinissa leaned over the railings, and vomited into the sea. "Will we see land soon?" he asked.

"Soon, boss," shouted a sailor. The deck roiled and rolled, and Masinissa felt the influence of another mouthful of acid threaten to pass through his lips. He hated this, and he suspected many of his men did as well. But what choice did he have? It was his solemn duty to win the necessary glory for his king and rightful ruler. If that meant traveling near a thousand leagues by ship, then so be it.

"I will not have soon. I will have sooner. Tell your rowers to make double time for this final stretch. I will- hulph!" He could not hear quite clearly, but he thought he heard the Drakon mercenary laugh. He grimaced, wiping the yellow bile from his face. He hated those Drakonese as well. One could never tell, by their seemingly honest faces, what they were thinking. "Courage, man," he told himself. "Courage, for a few leagues more. Surabhumi is on the distance now, I need but reach out and take it for my own."

Takanis - A Dark Fantasy Nation RP

Regnum of Imasicia

Name of Nation: Imasicia
Capital: Mirgamas
Population: 30m (18m human, 12m orc)
Species: Human and Varacci (Orkh)

Notable Individuals
Rex - Sumtagus Bogudus
Leggiato di Cohorta Varacca - Mario di Aggiapo
Serene Doge di Confoderatto di Varacci - Lucca di Sendimenti
Serene Doge di Nazziono di Varacci - Amara di Molobenini
Duces Factionis Unitalis - Inumedigus Guba and Gugurta
Dux Factionis Optimates - Tingitus Gauda
Archmagus Collegii Magici - Arbatus Sifax

Culture and Religion

The human culture revolves largely around the family. Everyone, even the commoner, kept a long list of ancestors and relatives, and apply to their own names a name denoting familiarity. The oldest male of the family is considered the arbiter to all matters within the family, and women suffer marginalization, such as restrictions from the army, higher positions in government, and the collegium of magic. A woman's collegium has been established, but has yet to be subsidized by the government. Beyond the family, the humans look to the city. The cities are considered glamorous and desirable, and many rural commoners would pay regular visits from their quaint homes to the bustle of urban life, almost as if a pilgrimage to imperial society. Cities are built around the forum, from which news is distributed and tribute collected. It is common for two cities to be rivals with one another, and this competition is in some parts encouraged by social and cultural norms. Furthermore, orcs flock to the cities, mostly from the inner isles, where they wish to escape the harsh persecution on behalf of the human-dominated higher society, or in the hopes of joining the legendary Cohorta Varacca.

Orcish society, meanwhile, does not for the most part respect family. The common orc treats their villages like family, and would commonly refer to elders as "uncle" or "aunt", youngsters as "nephew" and "niece", and their peers as "cousin". Visitors from other villages, however, do not receive this warm treatment, and are addressed by the more formal "signor". Strangely, both human and orcish societies are rather strictly monogamous. Orcs find it more difficult to distinguish between male and female, and thus don't place the same restrictions humans do on gender roles. Outside of their villages, the orcs find identity within their islands. Most islands, instead of housing a single sprawling city, keep many small orcish villages. Each island is ruled by a "doge", and the doges are assembled into the "Confoderatto di Varacci", whose leader is chosen by the vote of the doges to represent all the orcs in the human capital at Mirgamas.

Lately, whispers of discontent have been circulating the outer islands, as well as in the rural arid portions of the mainland. Both of these factions would have the separation of humans and orcs, but keep themselves under wraps. The vast majority of the army, as well as the current majority of the higher governmental positions, fostered by the watchful eye of the king, support unity. However, if the rumors are true, sentiments are changing, and the kingdom may find a rebellion on their hands.

The religion in Imasicia has two major roots. The first comes from the pre-imperial faith of the Imasicians, an animistic faith which kept and appeased many spirits of the natural world. They believed that spirits lived within great bodies of "untouched land", including forests, deserts, lakes, oceans, and plains. When a living creature dares step foot within these lands without the permission of the spirits, they are cursed. Thus, it is said that the worshippers must declare contracts with the spirits, most commonly in the forms of ritual sacrifice. In exchange for these sacrifices, the worshippers may take the resources given by the spirits, such as wood, water, and land. Because little effort was given by the Imperium to convert its far-flung populace, the imperial faith did not take hold in the Imasician populace.

The other source comes from the traditional faith of the orcs. Unlike the humans, the orcs looked to the sky for their spirits, believing them to reside within the stars, the clouds, and the sun. Indeed, the early orcs were much more eager to exploit the land than their human counterparts. The sun was especially important to orc worship, and orcish scholars have suggested that at one time the sun was regarded as less a spirit and more a god. The orcs also keep heavy faith in prophecies and blessed bloodlines, and believe that a time will come when a great leader shall be descended from the sun to unify the people. Orcish faith syncretized incredibly well with the human faith during the pre-conquest and early conquest, and both cultures would pay similar dues to spirits of both earth and sky. However, differences in the practice are beginning to arise due to the racial tensions.

The Cohorta Varacca keep strange cultural practices, suspicious to both human and orc. The Cohorta is an orcish society, living in cultural enclaves within large cities across the mainland. They have also been granted tracts of land by the king, and thus could be argued are the largest and most powerful village of all orc-kind. They are a cross between a village and a military order, and the two methods of entry are to be born into it, or to join. Every single orc, regardless of how they entered, are trained to a razor-sharp discipline to fight and die for the king. Any dissent or weakness is brutally put down at the point of a sword.

What makes the Cohorta so strange is their odd interpretation of religion. The Cohorta believe that the Sumtagus family is the saoshyant figure of the prophecies, and therefore revere him alongside the sun. Thus, they engage in selective breeding practices, choosing for straight backs, height, and hairlessness, in the efforts of inheriting human-like characteristics, in the hopes of emulating the Sumtagus king. A Cohorta orc, unlike a native orc, is nearly the height of a human, just about straight-backed, and only grows hair where it would be common for a human to. Therefore, they are regarded with revulsion by their native cousins.

The Imasician humans keep two names, a family name followed by a personal name. The imperial citizens were said to have kept three names, but Imasician culture dropped the first name even before the empire fell. However, it is customary for scholars and magi to style themselves with a "G." preceding their names, as an homage to the traditional style. Orcs, meanwhile, are more nuanced about their naming conventions. Common orcs are raised by the community, and care little about parentage or family. Thus, they keep two names, both of which are given. Orcish nobility, on the other hand, do keep to families, and keep two names, a given name followed by a family name, denoting the island over which their families hold power. Orcs raised to a scion of a noble family often abandon their second given name in favor of their doge's family name.

History

6,000 years ago:
The earliest form of Imasician civilization organizes into tribes and petty kingdoms, war with each other is common. The early civilization is beneath the notice of human powers.

5,000 years ago:
Powerful family, possibly mythical, whose name is lost to history, unites the tribes into a single confederation, declares himself king, and establishes contact with its more established neighbors. Quickly replaced by a second ruling family.

4,700-4,500:
Contact is established between the distant yet rising Imperium Hominum and the nascent Kingdom of Imasicia, centralization practices of the Imperium are adopted by the kingdom. Serious trade is established between the Imperium and Imasicia.

4,500-4,000:
A series of subjugation wars occur between the Imperium and Imasicia. In most cases, the Imperium doesn't directly step in, but rather encourages rebellions in discontent nobles and commoners, who rise up against their masters and pledge themselves to the Imperium.

4,000-3,700:
A series of unstable successions, in no small part supported by the Imperium, lead to weak central power, and as the kingdom begins to collapse, the king swears his allegiance to the Imperium in order to preserve his control. Imasicia becomes a client state.

3,700-3,300:
Imasicia becomes aware of the Old Empire to its southwest. The first forum is built in the capital village of Comorriga. Imperial culture rushes into Imasicia.

3,300-3,100:
War breaks out between the Imperium and the Old Empire. Imasicia raises its banners in support of the Imperium. Imasician patois comes into common use, and imperial writing is adopted.

3,100-2,900:
Old Empire temporarily subjugates the kingdom of Imasicia. Imasicia rebels. The imperial legio style of warfare is harmonized with the existing method. Imasicia proves itself incredibly capable in combat, and throws off Old Empire rule. New family rises up to declare themselves king.

2,700-2500:
Imasicia once again officially kneels to imperial rule, after an interregnum period of unstable succession and a power struggle. New family rises up to declare themselves king. First collegium of magic is opened in Comorriga. It accepts both sexes, but later restricts women.

2,500-2100:
Mad King Bacchus rises to power. He declares autonomy from the Imperium, and raises the Imasician army to invade the Old Empire. He manages to capture a few border towns, but without the support of the Imperium, his army is shattered in an attempt to invade the heartlands. Comorriga is burned to the ground, as well as other cities. Imasician society regresses to warring tribes, nominally in service to the Imperium.

2043-1701:
The Imperium Hominum declines and collapses. Warring tribes migrate eastwards, eventually unified by the Sumtaga family. Finally lands along the eastern coasts.

1701-1605:
New city is built, Mirgamas, in the style of the Imperium. The collegium is reopened after a long period of cultural regression. Imasicia reestablishes itself as a centralized state. Imasicia begins trade contact with the local populations, the Varacci.

1605-1493 (1605-1562) (1556-1498)
A series of wars waged between the Kingdom of Imasicia and the orcish doges brings the islands under the control of Imasicia. The inner islands fall first, they having organized raids against the mainland, as was common between the orcish islands. Imasicia retaliates, subjugating the inner islands. The remaining orcish doges assemble into the First Confoderatto di Varacci.

The Confoderatto attempts an invasion to retake the inner islands. They are successful at first, but they quickly fall to infighting. Imasicia returns, and defeats the Confoderatto at the Battle of Sendimenti. Guido di Sendimenti, realizing his island would be destroyed should he fight for the Confoderatto, swears loyalty to Imasicia. The First Confoderatto is destroyed.

The Second Confoderatto assembles swiftly, in response to hostile actions by Imasicia for portions of the outer islands. The Second Confoderatto is far more unified and organized, and repels the Imasician attacks for a while. Imasicia adopts orcish tactics, and assembles the Cohorta Varacca and the Marino system. Both are successful in countering orcish efforts. The outer islands are subjugated.

Economy

In the age of the old kingdom, Imasicia primarily bartered in wheat. Only the upper class even saw gold, which was most often traded for land by the nobility in bullion form. The Imperium's dominion, however, changed the function of Imasicia's feeble economic system forever. They introduced the coin, which was adapted into the Imasician solidus, as well as the trade guild. The king continues to emulate the fallen Imperium's model of economy, with a centralized tax plan and an emergency bread dole reserve.

Military

Army:
The army of Imasicia is, like much of its culture, a rich blend of pre-imperial and imperial policies, to form one of the most formidable armies on the continent. It is often said in folk rumors that the human side of the kingdom is descended entirely from imperial warriors, having retreated too far from the borders after a defeat. This rumor is both a source of pride and of determination in its human participants, and while largely debunked by historians, continues to serve as a powerful motivator for the land forces.

The core of the foot army consists of heavily armored legionarii, dressed in much the same armor as they would have during the imperial age. Segmented bands of metal, along with massive shields and spathae, make them already impressive, but it is the iron discipline within its ranks that truly sets it apart from any enemy it faces. Only veterans may don the armor, and the weak are not taken lightly. Supporting the legiones are the new recruits, relegated to skirmishing until they have had the honor of serving in battle. These forces are used to scout and harass the enemy force before being met with the legio proper, and are thus less well equipped. They are protected with a more modern development, the chain mail, and given a small round shield to defend themselves with, as well as a shorter sword. However, their primary purpose is slung around their backs, a quiver of javelins to throw into enemy lines.

Unlike the foot soldiers, which may be levied from all ranks of society, cavalry is restricted to those either of high birth or have served within the government. It is customary for lowborn government officials to be granted a horse by the king, which they would use in battle. The horsemen fielded by Imasicia are not heavy, but are no less tough. Even the young nobles are quickly informed of the importance of discipline, as harshly as is necessary. The horsemen are armored in gambeson and armed with both arrows and spathae, and thus serve diverse roles as harassment, flanking, and pursuit. The pride of the Imasician cavalry, however, are the king's personal guard, elite archers on elephants chosen from the best marksmen in the kingdom. The elephants themselves are trained to charge into closed ranks, crushing them and allowing for the legiones to enter the gap.

Orcs are common in the army, though rarely serve as legionarii. Most often, orcs fight in their traditional manner, as shock troops and surprise units. Orcish armor is not provided by the state, but often given by their local villages, and consists often of a traditional orcish spada da lato, thick gambeson cloth, and a parma shield. The orcs of the Cohorta Varacca are said to fly into a fierce rage in battle, taking extreme delight in the blood spilled and cleaving with reckless abandon through an opposing force. Indeed, many orcs are taken in, so much that the discrimination so prevalent in many circles of human culture are just about nonexistent in the army.

Navy:
The navy of Imasicia is not quite as impressive as its army. The Imasician navy is largely reserve, with few standing military staff consisting mostly of scouts and patrols. The vast majority of the navy is drawn from the orcish populations of the islands, oftentimes hardy sailors and fishers who may quickly put down their regular duties and take to the sea in service to the crown. The backbone of their forces call themselves "marini", and orcs tend to take pride in their service. Humans do participate in the navy as well, but usually as coastal guard for the mainland provinces. Unlike the army, the navy is very strongly steeped in prejudice, and it is common for ships of one race to forbid the fielding of the other on their deck. The ships fielded by the navy tend to be repurposed fishers and transport barges, and thus are unable to travel far outside the Varacci archipelago.

Traits

Imperial Heritage: Alongside many human cultures of the continent, the Imasician humans are descended from a great empire of antiquity, once having had the ambition to unite the entire human peoples under its banner. While the empire, along with its name, has been lost to the passage of time, its spirit lives on very strongly within its people. The humans still speak a patois of the imperial language and the pre-imperial language, and its subjects are still expected to speak both fluently. Imperial ideas of organization, warfare, culture present themselves as aspects of modern Imasician life. Finally, the throne of Imasicia still keeps a secret ambition towards its neighbors, in the dream of one day bringing those banners from the dead and once again spreading across all humankind.

Two Worlds: The society of Imasicia is divided sharply down the line between land and sea, between human and orc. Once one leaves the temperate coasts of the Imasicia mainland and travels to the island, one might as well have entered an entirely new world. Gone are the mighty and imposing cities of boxy sandstone, away are the sweeping deserts and grasslands, dotted with trees. In its place are inviting near-tropical islands, with swaying palms, nestled around red-roofed villas and palazzi. The change is so drastic that anecdotes from natives claim to feel a change within themselves as they pass an invisible line dividing the mainland from the islands. It is commonly held by the mainlanders that the humans who live on the islands act more orcish than human, and the reverse opinion is held by the orcs of their mainlanders.

Culture of Vengeance: While the humans and the orc cultures differ on many matters, there is one on which both agree. Vengeance is both tangible and exchangeable. It is widely thought by historians that the idea of vengeance being such a tangible force comes from the age of the early kings in Imasicia, going back before the imperial annexation. The pre-imperial religious practices of both cultures placed heavy emphasis on like returning to like, and encouraged for its adherents to make it so. Thus, both human and orcish peoples are perfectly capable of carrying grudges their entire lives, as well as inheriting and passing on their own from ancestors to descendants. In fact, centuries after the Imasician conquest of the orcish islands, many still do harbor resentment against the modern-day king within the far islands.

Relations

Surabhumi: Sworn enemies
Sanghara: Sworn enemies
Arcana: Friendly but wary
Drakon: Brotherly and protective
Allemagne: Sworn enemies
Imperator Iulianus: Brotherly, with disagreements
Kipchak: Circumstantial allies by treaty
Akumori: Circumstantial allies by treaty

Rolls

Land Area: 12
Land Fertility: 10
Development: 15 (-2)
Land Power: 20
Naval Power: 9 (-8)
Economy: 8 (+4)
Magical Reserves: 10 (+5)
Magical Sophistication: 20 (+6)

Trees

Army

Navy

Development

Economy

Magic