Jeddaven

Empire of the Dead

I'm noticing that The Whisperer might be about to get his hands of something of great value to Tiedriel, too - though idk if @Cyclone and @Oraculum already have plans for that enchanted bauble

Empire of the Dead

There goes my first post! Arane's got her proverbial eyes on Faustus and Rixis.

Empire of the Dead

Somewhere in the Seas West of Leria

The scent of burning incense filled Lady Tiedriel's nostrils, forcing upon her a floral, copper-tinged stench so powerful that even her undead body could sense it. Deadened nerves were set alight, rocking her body with a painful sensation, so powerful it felt as if she had been set alight.

Kneeling quietly at the center of her quarters, Arane sucked in a deep breath through her nostrils, silently struggling to calm herself as the body of her flagship gently rocked and swayed beneath her.

Then, suddenly, the pain spiked - she felt a spear forced through her sternum. Pangs of fear at the possibility that her child would die. The realization that her existence as one of the living was about to end.

Another breath - useless and unnecessary for maintaining her bodily functions, animated as they were by foul magics, but helpful for meditation nonetheless. Truthfully, it was more a dry, unsettling sucking noise, but in this case, the effect was the same.

A touch at the back of her shoulder, as if a soul reaching through the veil. Where its fingers made contact, powerful stinging sensations built - then vanished just as abruptly as they came. Just as suddenly, the sound of her ship's travel seemed to fade from the world around her - and soon afterward, the burning scent of incense was replaced by the smell of... Ash, perhaps? The spray of the sea? She couldn't be sure. Even the grounding feeling of wood beneath her pale, smooth-skinned legs seemed to fade after a few moments more, replaced by thousands upon thousands of fine, smooth grains, each so paradoxically obvious that she swore she could feel every last one being pressed into her skin. Wind blew across her face, simultaneously sending shivers down her spine and making nonexistent sweat drip down her brow. Nothing made sense - not a bit of it, she thought to herself.

Rising to her feet, Arane wiggled her toes, feeling grains of sand pass between them. She swore she felt them scrape her skin, opening thousands of tiny wounds, blood pumping out of the many gashes - but, ignoring the sensation, Arane pressed on. She wasn't sure where, precisely - or was she? She knew where to walk, as if led by instinct - yet she scarcely understood where she was going.

The further she walked, the stronger the scent of ash and smoke became. Each step drew her closer to the flame, though she swore she could smell the salty water so strongly that she must've been aboard the deck of her ship. That worry soon passed, however, once she realized she'd been walking for far too long to have not simply waltzed off the edge. Cut after cut marred her feet, tearing into flesh like thousands of razors - and yet, the mage doggedly persisted in following a path she wasn't even entirely certain was the right one.

Then, in an instant, nearly everything changed. Gone were the sands beneath her feet in favour of the wet, mossy ground of a forest, thousands of birds chirping in her ears as other creatures howled out in agony. The scent of smouldering flame persisted, however, though it was now accompanied by the morning dew;- and still, Arane persisted, each step carrying her deeper into the woods.

...Or were they woods? No, now they were the broken cobbled streets of an abandoned city, the sounds of playing children echoing through nearby alleyways. Then she found herself in a desert, a small village - and, finally, that initial expanse of cutting sands and paradoxical winds. She felt a presence - something - staring past her, even with her eyes closed... And so, Arane opened her own.

A great, golden orb floated high in the sky above her, its surface covered by what seemed like thousands upon thousands of unblinking eyes, each belonging to a different species. A fly's compound orb gazed down at her from beneath a feline eye, next to that of a blue-eyed man... And not a single one of them blinked. This, she concluded, was the source of the smell. Here, it was stronger than ever, so undeniably invasive that it nearby drowned out all of the rest of her imaginary senses. Reaching out towards, she smiled.

It blinked. Thousands of eyes, all at once, so many that the sound was clearly audible - then abruptly began to fall toward the earth, catapulting a massive cloud of ash into the air upon impact. The cloud rushed toward Arane, engulfing her - then she was awake. Sensation rapidly rushed back to, the same sights and sounds that always accompanied her vessel filling her thoughts as she rose to her feet.

"A good omen, then." She smiled, holding out her arm as a tiny, crimson shape landed upon it. Taloned feet gripped tightly at her skin, though they dared not cut her flesh, instead opting to cackle quietly from beneath amber eyes. Its face, slightly soft and feminine in appearance, canted to one side, staring unblinkingly into Arane's eyes. Arane only smirked in response, pushing open the door from her quarters that led out onto the ship's deck where dozens upon dozens of ghouls mindlessly toiled away. Most earned little but an incredibly brief, pitiful glance from their mistress, but one, possessed of the same pointed ears as she, caught her eyes. Much like Arane, her body was one that was relatively well-maintained, still beautiful as elven women often were; if not for the ragged, charred wounds that left her face a brutally damaged ruin exposed bone, charred black by flame along her jawline and cheeks, her head utterly bald. Her plate armour, on the other hand, fared much better, glistening like the day it was first forged, decorated in the same reds and golds as Arane's dress. At her hip lay a sharp, wickedly curved sword - but the very moment she noticed Arane, she turned, rushing to the Revenant Major's side.

"Captain!" Arane barked, a smirk marring her features. "There has been a change of plans. We sail for Leria at once. Any amongst the crew who manage to express dissent are to be slain immediately; I will make use of the corpses in my rituals."

For a moment, the Captain simply stared back at Arane, only to quickly bring her fist to her chest in salute, hand over her heart. "As you command, milady Tiedriel! It will be done."

Questions yet remained, of course. There were few among the risen dead who had what Arane needed, and even fewer who could be trusted. Two, however, stood out as being of use - one was a coward, and the other a criminal.

Empire of the Dead

Name: Lady Arane Tiedriel

Rank: Revenant Major

Description

Compared to the average ghoul, Lady Tiedriel is mostly intact - due in no small part to her expansive knowledge of magecraft. One might even call her beautiful, in the same manner as an ancient vampiress - though her skin is smooth and unblemished, it is deathly pale, utterly unmistakeable for that of a living elf. Her face, though sculpted to near-perfection, is marred by apparently empty sockets lit by dark, purplish-black flame. Her skin, much like her hair, is snow-white, the colour of death - though it remains somewhat luscious thanks to extensive efforts by the noblewoman herself. By and large, she is a strange parody of the picture of Elven beauty - slender yet healthily voluptuous, though her beauty does little for her these days.

Nonetheless, Lady Tiedriel goes to immense lengths to dress herself as she was in life. Most often, she wears robes coloured with the red-gold tones of the Noble House she was formerly heiress too, refusing to clad her body in anything but the most expensive, intricately designed robes she can find. That is not to say that she goes out of her way to put form over function, however - they are weighed equally, and, as such, she is often seen clad in robes of practical design with absurdly expensive embellishments and fresh dyes.

Not all of her equipment is so easily maintained, however. Her staff of office, once used as a training implement as she trained in the arcane arts, has been permanently marked by the foul magic that animates her body. Once bright, shining diamonds now have the colour of curdled blood, seeming to ooze foul energies, and while the silvery platinum haft is mostly free of damage, it is permanently ice-cold to the touch.

Background

Once the heir to a great collection of Elven holdings, Tiedriel's promising future was ruined by the sudden rise of Eagoth. Her parents, friends to many of the Kings of Leria, pledged their assistance against his undead legions - and Tiedriel, having only just recently begun her training in the arcane arts, sought to use the conflict as a way to prove herself. During this conflict, she grew close to another Elven Prince involved in the war - and the two grew close, much to the pleasure of their parents.

Nonetheless, young love or not, Tiedriel was anything but lazy - though inexperienced, her magical potency proved impressive enough to turn handfuls of battles in the favour of the living, even saving her love's life on a few equations. The two were eventually wed closer to the end of Eagoth's conquests, and Tiedriel was with child.

Unfortunately, her happiness was not to last. Slain alongside her husband in one of the final sieges, her parents slaughtered, Tiedriel cast a spell of enchantment on her unborn child in a desperate attempt to save it, knowing the likely fate that awaited her. Valued as a mage, Tiedriel was eventually resurrected, made a Revenant Minor in Eagoth's armies. She eventually began to prove more independent than expected, however, and was raised to the rank of Revenant Major, her unliving child shielded from Eagoth's eyes by power illusion magic.

However, Tiedriel's independent streak - and magical skill - eventually proved too great of a risk to leave on the continent. Given command of a moderately sized fleet, Tiedriel was sent on a suicide mission to break the blockade of Leria. Tiedriel was a woman of ego, however, often defiant and abrasive - and rather than obey, she hid her fleet under a cloak of storms, setting sail back for Leria in hopes of exacting her rightful vengeance - and saving her child.

Now, she seeks allies - and just as important, objects of magical import with which to conjure into being an army of her own - one that Eagoth cannot turn to his own use. Her options for both are limited, however - and may come to involve forces she can scarcely control, whether otherworldly in nature or simply untrustworthy.

Wards: None. Tiedriel's lands on Leria were stripped from her after her disappearance on the High Seas.

Posting in the OOC as requested! Apologies for the excessive length - I had trouble cutting it down.

Precipice Of War: The Reboot of a Reboot

Aite, the actual meat of the app's done, so I'm posting it now
Aaaand we're done!

Nation: People's Republic of United Workers/Republika Ludowy Zjednoczonych Robotników (RLZR)

Map:

History

The Poland of the end of the Great War was a nation divided, ravaged by both conflict fought by foreign powers over its land and the recent struggles of revolutionaries seeking independence. In an attempt to further turn the war in their favour, the Central powers of Austria-Hungary and Germany formed a regency council in the ailing territory desperate for independence, hoping to institute a friendly Polish monarchy.

The Regency Council, however, was easily seen through by the vast majority of people, sparking sporadic incidences of revolutionary fervour in the country throughout 1919, culminating in the abrupt dissolution of the Regency Council in early 1920. Defying demands made by the stretched-thin Central Powers, the Sejm transformed itself into a more traditional parliament, naming renowned socialist Ignacy Ewaryst Daszyński as its head of government. Already a popular figure on the left that maintained de-facto control over much of Galicia, Ignacy's appointment was seen as a great victory by leftists, though he was thoroughly reviled by the right. Gabriel Narutowicz, renowned expert on hydroelectric engineering and brother of former Lithuanian parliamentarian Stanisław, was promptly made the nation's Minister of Public Works. Even early on, Poland saw mass immigration of Russian socialists, seeking refuge with the relatively left-leaning government.

Ignacy only maintained a short tenure until 1922, however, when socialist Artur Śliwiński replaced him as head of government. Rosa Luxemburg and Leo Jogiches, having fled Germany two years prior, were both elected to the Sejm in the same year, and began campaigning fervently for socialist causes in the upcoming presidential elections.

Rosa proved too extreme to win the Presidency, however, in a country that was largely still in the process of deciding where its political allegiances lied. Narutowicz, more moderate and well-liked by both the Centre and the Left, won the presidency in a landslide. A landslide, however, did not mean a peaceful presidency - soon after his election, Narutowicz was being frequently threatened by far-right groups, and was thus assigned a security detail on the advice of his cabinet. A mere few days after his election, in fact, Eligiusz Niewiadomski attempted to assassinate the freshly nominated President while he was visiting an art gallery, only to be slain by his recently formed, ragtag security detail. Though wounded, Narutowicz was able to recover - but Eligiusz was quickly martyred by numerous far-right groups in the country, seen as a man who attempted to save them from the secular Narutowicz, already loved by many of Poland's minorities. Dissent, however, remained largely underground. In Lithuania, meanwhile, the Lithuanian Popular Peasants' Union, a socialist party formed by merger, won a majority of seats in the parliament, securing control of the government. Poland and Lithuania both saw large influxes of immigrants from the east in the aftermath, largely made up of oppressed minorities and socialists fleeing the Imperial Russian authorities.

By 1927, Narutowicz was ousted in a second round of elections, replaced by the increasingly popular Rosa Luxemburg. Rosa's presidency, however, was immediately met with far more violence that Narutowicz's, quickly erupting into civil war. By this point, however, most of Poland's officer corps was made up of socialists - including Marshal Edward Rydz-Śmigły and Minister of Military Affairs Władysław Sikorski - with Piłudski still held in Magdeburg prison, most of the Polish military, therefore, sided with the socialist government, alongside socialist militias and veterans from Russia. The civil war was thus not bloodless - however, the conflict lasted no more than half a year, with sporadic low-level insurgency continuing until 1928. What the civil war did mean for Poland, however, was the end of organized opposition to an increasingly socialist government - which paved the way for sweeping changes headed by Luxemburg. In particular, seeking to avoid the pitfalls of reliance upon capitalist economies that she feared, Luxemburg sought to make Poland more economically independent from the rest of the world. Nonetheless, she appointed Narutowicz as Foreign Minister, seeking a closer relationship with the smaller Lithuania, already friendly to the current socialist government.

Luxemburg's diplomatic initiative bore fruit not long afterward in late 1928 as the Lithuanian military attempted to overthrow the socialist government. Though by no means the most modern armed force at the time, Poland's military was much larger and better equipped than its Lithuanian counterpart, including a small air force made up of older aircraft headed by General Ludomił Rayski and a small, experimental armored force under Colonel Stanisław Maczek

The Poles were able to achieve victory by mid-1929, incorporating an extremely friendly Lithuania into a new, socialist state.

By 1930, however, the Republic's army saw its first real baptism by fire, intervening in the German Civil War. Maczek's armored force and Rayski's air force, though armed with mostly old, upgraded equipment, proved highly effective in the conflict, leading Sikorski to place modernization of the Republic's military (including an expanded air force and a general push for wider mechanization) as a top priority, largely made possible thanks to continued industrialization inspired by Narutowicz's policy history and industrial assistance from a now-friendly Germany.

The next decade saw extensive industrialization of the country and a push for energy independence, an already socialist nation having seen relatively few ill effects from the worldwide economic crisis. New farms increasingly dotted the countryside, both to feed its rapidly growing population and to supply an increased need for vegetable oils and ethanol, seen as a necessity to avoid depending on capitalists for fuel. Large spaces of land were also being given over to experimental wind farms, parts of the landscape reshaped by Narutowicz's hydroelectric dams. The largest example of Poland's industrialization, however, was easily the Central Industrial Region, a project to transform Warsaw and the region around it into an industrial powerhouse.

Though only part of his career was under Luxemburg, Gabriel Narutowicz remained one of the most popular Polish politicians for decades to come, even after leaving office in 1938 with the end of the Luxemburg presidency, which saw the increased democratization of the country.

Nonetheless, the trend of increased economic independence and industrialization started by the two continued well into the 1940s, bolstered by a robust, freely available education system.

Serving a second term as president until 1943, Narutowicz was followed by Władysław Sikorski, further expanding and modernizing the Republic's armed forces, including expanding Lithuanian ports. Sikorski's most notable action, however, was easily his leading a military intervention in Belarus against an already divided Russian Empire, again on the behalf of friendly socialists. Though the Republic's army wasn't as large as its Russian counterpart at nearly two million men and women strong, its highly mechanized nature made it able to take care of an increasingly divided Russia and force the country into a peace settlement that surrendered Belarus.

Sikorski's presidency was followed by another former military officer, Brigadier General Katarzyna Balchunas, a fervent socialist who saw combat in the German civil war and commanded an armored division in the war against Russia. Even more extreme than most of her predecessors, Balchunas has adopted an unofficial policy of interfering in the favour of socialist and communist revolts across the world, supplying arms and intelligence through her country's increasingly extensive intelligence agencies, whether in the nearby Ukraine or the distant Pacific. Her strategy, however profitable it may prove to be, comes with great risk - though populous and well-equipped to fight a long war, the Republic's navy, though advanced, is small, lacking the ability to project power at great distance and effectively combat what Starosta privately views as the greatest enemy of socialism today - the United States of America.

Nonetheless, Balchunas knows what she must do - she will not rest until every last enemy of the working people rots in their graves, whether at the tip of Polish rockets or by the hands of their own, even if that means she must spend every moment of her life with a pistol and a knife by her side.

Empire of the Dead

Name: Lady Arane Tiedriel

Rank: Revenant Major

Description

Compared to the average ghoul, Lady Tiedriel is mostly intact - due in no small part to her expansive knowledge of magecraft. One might even call her beautiful, in the same manner as an ancient vampiress - though her skin is smooth and unblemished, it is deathly pale, utterly unmistakeable for that of a living elf. Her face, though sculpted to near-perfection, is marred by apparently empty sockets lit by dark, purplish-black flame. Her skin, much like her hair, is snow-white, the colour of death - though it remains somewhat luscious thanks to extensive efforts by the noblewoman herself. By and large, she is a strange parody of the picture of Elven beauty - slender yet healthily voluptuous, though her beauty does little for her these days.

Nonetheless, Lady Tiedriel goes to immense lengths to dress herself as she was in life. Most often, she wears robes coloured with the red-gold tones of the Noble House she was formerly heiress too, refusing to clad her body in anything but the most expensive, intricately designed robes she can find. That is not to say that she goes out of her way to put form over function, however - they are weighed equally, and, as such, she is often seen clad in robes of practical design with absurdly expensive embellishments and fresh dyes.

Not all of her equipment is so easily maintained, however. Her staff of office, once used as a training implement as she trained in the arcane arts, has been permanently marked by the foul magic that animates her body. Once bright, shining diamonds now have the colour of curdled blood, seeming to ooze foul energies, and while the silvery platinum haft is mostly free of damage, it is permanently ice-cold to the touch.

Background

Once the heir to a great collection of Elven holdings, Tiedriel's promising future was ruined by the sudden rise of Eagoth. Her parents, friends to many of the Kings of Leria, pledged their assistance against his undead legions - and Tiedriel, having only just recently begun her training in the arcane arts, sought to use the conflict as a way to prove herself. During this conflict, she grew close to another Elven Prince involved in the war - and the two grew close, much to the pleasure of their parents.

Nonetheless, young love or not, Tiedriel was anything but lazy - though inexperienced, her magical potency proved impressive enough to turn handfuls of battles in the favour of the living, even saving her love's life on a few equations. The two were eventually wed closer to the end of Eagoth's conquests, and Tiedriel was with child.

Unfortunately, her happiness was not to last. Slain alongside her husband in one of the final sieges, her parents slaughtered, Tiedriel cast a spell of enchantment on her unborn child in a desperate attempt to save it, knowing the likely fate that awaited her. Valued as a mage, Tiedriel was eventually resurrected, made a Revenant Minor in Eagoth's armies. She eventually began to prove more independent than expected, however, and was raised to the rank of Revenant Major, her unliving child shielded from Eagoth's eyes by power illusion magic.

However, Tiedriel's independent streak - and magical skill - eventually proved too great of a risk to leave on the continent. Given command of a moderately sized fleet, Tiedriel was sent on a suicide mission to break the blockade of Leria. Tiedriel was a woman of ego, however, often defiant and abrasive - and rather than obey, she hid her fleet under a cloak of storms, setting sail back for Leria in hopes of exacting her rightful vengeance - and saving her child.

Now, she seeks allies - and just as important, objects of magical import with which to conjure into being an army of her own - one that Eagoth cannot turn to his own use. Her options for both are limited, however - and may come to involve forces she can scarcely control, whether otherworldly in nature or simply untrustworthy.

Wards: None. Tiedriel's lands on Leria were stripped from her after her disappearance on the High Seas.

Posting in the OOC as requested! Apologies for the excessive length - I had trouble cutting it down.

The Shadowed Throne

Elun'uiga, Widu Tu'vat Guardian of the Ancient Woods

Among the peoples of Geryon and the lands beyond, many distinct cultures with their own, varying traditions exist, reaching varying levels of incomprehensibility to their increasingly distant cousins. Among the most strange and culturally distant from the rest, perhaps, are the Widu Tu'vat dwelling in the densely forested valleys and montane forests unclaimed by, so untouched by the ravages of civilization that one might think they were habited by nothing greater than simple, animal life. By many, these Widu Tu'vat were considered a strange, inscrutable, and oftentimes dangerous folk, if only because they were so poorly understood.

Edmund Ædelræd, the enterprising adventurer that he was, knew better than most common folk. Where there was mystery, there was surely fame to be found, perhaps even riches - or so he thought, mere days ago.

Now, sprinting through the forest, twigs crunching beneath the hooves of his steed, he wished he'd stayed home. Cuthbert - his squire - was only a short distance behind him, fear ever-present in the teenage boy's eyes.

"Keep your head down, lad - and don't you dare stop!" Edmund snapped, quietly as he could manage. Perhaps whatever had been following them had lost them, he hoped. He hadn't been so lucky as to catch a glimpse of their pursuer, but whatever it was, its intent was made clear by the flurry of arrows that speared his bodyguards through while in the middle of donning their armor. He'd been quick enough to mount his steed and run, squire in tow - but only narrowly.

Worse, he could *hear* the creature following them, leaping from bough to bough, the only signs of its passage being the rustling of leaves and the sickening delighted, sadistic giggles that seemed to echo from all around him. Whether the source was male or female, he couldn't tell - he was too busy listening to the thump of his heart against his rib-cage; the sound of his own ragged breaths.

Just a bit further, he reassured himself. Ahead was an old, wooden bridge, crossing over a raging river - perhaps, were he quick enough, he could use battle-magic to collapse the thing, preventing his pursuers from following? Just a little bit further, and...

Suddenly, his steed froze, whinnying, adamantly refusing to move even an inch further. "Move, stupid beast! Come on!" He barked in frustration, kicking the horse's sides. It remained unmoving.

Casting a glance at Cuthbert, he noticed his squire was undergoing the very same struggle, both animals stopped dead as if arrested by some foul magic. A flash of dark, grey fur crossed his field of vision - and he suddenly found himself, without warning, groaning in pain, his body slamming to the ground with a loud thud. Still, his steeds did nothing.

He began to push himself up, only to find a powerful force slamming him back against the ground.

An enormous wolf, nearly large as a horse, its expression contorted into one of abject rage.

The giggling. In the commotion, he hadn't even noticed the absence of the source of the laughter - but now, it was back, and closer than ever. Behind him. Rolling him eyes upward, he tried to get a better look - but all he could find was the very top half of a ghostly-pale face, eyes black as the darkest nights, pointed ears poking out from beneath a forest-green hood. It tilted its head down at him in curiosity.

"Defiler." It hissed, voice now bereft of joy, dripping with only the most foul of venoms. And yet, it had a strange, almost beautiful quality to it - both entrancing and terrifying at once.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to be silenced by a growl from the beast pinning him against the dirt.

"You've come here seeking treasure, yes? Riches? Fame? Do not answer - I already know." The voice hissed, bending over to stare directly into his eyes. "I can smell it on you, knight. The scent of what you have stolen."

"I'll give it back! Don't kill me, I-"

A crow landed on a branch, nearby, then another, and another... Soon, the boughs the creature had been bounding along were crowded with black-feathered crows and ravens, squawking and cawing, as if mocking him.

"It is too late for that, little thief. His mind so small, his thoughts so selfish... The many lives you have ended to feed your lavish habits, the lives you have cut down so brazenly to fuel your forges, to build your estate... It is too late for mercy, pathetic little man." Again, the creature laughed, the sound sending a shiver down Edmund's spine.

One hand shot out, reaching for his blade while the other weaves arcane runes in the and, and-

Vomiting blood, searing pain shot through his chest - a pair of arrows, their bone-forged heads, speared into his lungs, filling them with blood. He only now just noticed the creature's bow drawn, life fading from his eyes.

Elun sighed, quietly shaking her head. A hand rested on the snarling wolf's head, a pleased sigh rumbling out from between its teeth.

"This is not your punishment to share, young, little man." She said, not even bothering to give the squire a glance. "You will take these horses, and you will run, never to return."

Awestruck with fear, the boy could muster the wherewithal to do little but nod.

The Shadowed Throne

Threw the post in the wrong spot. Wups.

Empire of the Dead

Oh, I assumed as much - I was joking!

I have some ideas of my own, but I wanted to clarify a few things before I got ahead of myself.

Empire of the Dead

Was it something I said?