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A note on dates

Throughout the Empire, people follow the Divine Era system of date notation which is counted from the establishment of the Common Law by Emperor Samut Sardakan. We are now in 1657 DE. Any date before the establishment of the Common Law is counted backwards from that day with a suffix BDE (Before Divine Era).

The tribal people of Amara, on the other hand, believe in cyclical time. According to them, time repeats itself in cycles called Yug. They place the present at year 663 of the Second Yug.

A Brief History of the Empire


For an empire the size of this one, it is difficult for a historian like me to pick one day and say that was the beginning of it all. Should I consider the establishment of the Middle Kingdom as the seminal date? Or is it when the Tashi Republic unconditionally surrendered to the forces of Nakumoro Sardakan? There are many views on this matter. For me, personally, the coronation of Miaji Sardakan is perhaps the definitive beginning of the days of the Empire. This was 127 BDE.

Miaji, at the time of his coronation, was just 12. His father, the great general Nakumoro, had succumbed to the White Fever just the previous year. It is ironic that the legendary warrior who single-handedly conquered the three kingdoms finally went to the beyond in such a mundane fashion. With his death, the vassal nobles were sure that the newly founded Heavenly Kingdom would disintegrate through civil wars. But they hadn’t counted on the intervention of the mages - the Sendars as they are officially known. (See further below for a concise history of the Sendars.)

The Sendars used their considerable influence over the people to bring them in line. For reasons known only to them, the Sendars threw their lot in with the boy-king. The Mahdi - the head of the Sendars - proclaimed the young boy to be an aspect of the Creator himself. This attribution of divine prerogative to rule - this was something completely new to the people. And coming from the mouth of ones who cannot lie, the proclamation was received with religious fervor among the populace. The son of their celebrated general was none other than the Divine Father! This gave the throne a legitimacy undreamed of by previous monarchs.

Miaji embarked on a complete consolidation period. During his reign, the lands of the old three kingdoms were divided into smaller administrative prefectures. Each region was governed by a Prefect, and the prefects deferred to the provincial governors. The governors were ultimately answerable to the Emperor. By setting up an efficient bureaucratic system very early, the Empire was able to form a stable and powerful base.

Miaji’s son, Samut, succeeded his reformist father. Almost from the first year, the new Emperor exhibited the military genius and drive of his grandfather. Under his rule, the borders of the Empire expanded to include the desert lands of the fierce Tarrmen, the lush plains of the Ryanians and even the cold northern regions of the Balenians. And, unlike his grandfather, Samut was not just a conquering machine. He understood the inherent threat in any multicultural political entity. Thus, with the help of the Sendars, Samut put down the Common Law - a rigid constitution that ensured cultural and religious freedom to the people as long as they recognized the divinity of the Emperor and the primacy of the Sendars.

The establishment of the Common Law ushered in a new golden age for the Empire. The conquered people brought with them their own culture and traditions, their arts and ideas. It resulted in an explosion of literature and art. Calligraphy thrived and so did the arts of philosophy and discourse. Debate podiums were set up in many places, especially near the markets, that encouraged people of different ideas and faiths to debate in a non-violent but no less intense fashion. The court rituals became even more refined. Science and engineering flourished with the Emperor’s patronage. The Temple of the Sendars became a major center of study. Advances in farming and warfare, in economy and administration, and in governance, helped the Empire retain stability while small states rose and failed around it, only to be gobbled up by the ever expanding Empire.

Today, nearly 1700 years after the coronation of Miaji, the people of the Empire live the most comfortable lives. The Tarrmen in the desert are content because they don’t have to fight for water anymore. The Balenians are not amazed anymore that they can eat fish that was caught thousands of miles away from a distant ocean. The Ryanians have amalgamated their strong religion with the Emperor cult, making him yet another deity in their endless pantheon of gods. There is not a single prefecture within the Empire where regular prayers for the Emperor’s health are not held. The current monarch is Emperor Baishu Sardakan, who rules from the Crystal Throne in the beautiful capital city of Candorin.

A Brief History of the Sendars


Mana is a concept as old as life. Mana is the force of life that flows through every element in the universe. And throughout mankind’s history, there have been those few who are born with the ability to sense the mana. These people have been called many names - magicians, mages, wizards, witches. Every land has them. They can be seen practicing herbal healing or dispensing good advice. They were either advisors or teachers.

Mahdi Rudar Sya is often considered to be the first Sendar. He lived so many years ago that any story about him is bound to be a highly warped and distorted image of the truth. It is said that he made the once lush plains of Tarr into a desert in his anger by sucking all the water from there and dumping it to create the Sea of Storms. Naturally, such stories must be taken with a heavy helping of salt.

But there are a few facts about Rudar Sya that we can all agree upon. Namely, it was he who set up the Shrine of Elements - the Nogundai - on the banks of the Geerath river that flows through Candorin. It was he who brought together the eastern mages under this roof and established the Sendar Order. The word ‘sendar’ apparently meant ‘servant’ in the Old Tongue. But today, that word stands for power and piety.

The Sendars were initially a group of reclusive monks who were content to investigate the abstract nature of life sequestered in their Nogundai. People would seek them out for knowledge, for advice, for cures. Though these monks tried to keep the world out, the world wanted their guidance.

It was under Mahdi Visan Duran that the Sendars grew to become a moral authority. They officiated weddings, mediated separations, negotiated truces and generally made themselves indispensable to the society.

People fear what they do not understand, and the Sendars were far beyond anyone’s comprehension. In 534 BDE, the Shrine of Elements was put to the torch (not for the first time) and the Sendars were forced to seek exile. It was during this period the Sendars decided to take up what is now known as the Purity Vows: to never use the power of the mana to kill unless in self-defence; to never speak a word of falsehood; and to never seek a throne or any other form of political power. The vows were a masterstroke. By making these vows public (and by making them binding with the help of the mana), the Sendars managed to assuage most of the fears. Kings and Queens sought them for their knowledge, secure in the fact that they would never seek political power. The Sendars began to reemerge, stronger than before.

By 100 BDE, the Sendars had reestablished themselves in Candorin. The Nogundai was rebuilt. This time, it was no mere shrine. It was a massive temple complex straddling the Geerath - a symbol of power and divinity. At the time of the coronation of Miaji, there were nearly ten thousand Sendars in the land. Today, they are three times that many.

While the Sendars never sought to rule, they also never missed an opportunity to pull strings. While the Sendars never lied, they never missed an opportunity to twist the truth. Over the past thousand years, the Sendars have overseen so many political maneuvers that they now have a reputation. People still respect them, still treat them just one step below the Emperor. But unlike the Emperor, the Sendars don’t enjoy unbridled adoration. They are known as scheming magicians, capable of twisting your own words to suit their needs. If you shook hands with a Sendar, a saying goes, you always counted your fingers afterwards.

A Brief Look at the Amara Tribes


The thick forests covering the newly discovered lands in the west are collectively called Tengsho Forest by the people of the Empire. The word ‘tengsho’ means ‘dark’ in the Old Tongue. The same forest is called home by the people of Amara.

The Amara are a brown-skinned people who are, on an average, shorter than the Imperials. They claim to have inhabited these forests for two thousand years. Since no written records are kept among the Amara, there is no way to validate this claim.

The tribals worship nature as a mother goddess. They call her Uru and live in the belief that when Uru wakes, their life-dream would end. Once every year, the Amara celebrate Uru by singing lullabies to her through the night amidst feasting. Over the years, this day has become their day of the new year.

The Amara live as one cohesive tribe, but they are split into clans. In all, there are 18 clans. Some of the clans live far away from each other. Each clan has a chief who is elected by the elders of that clan. Typically a chief ‘rules’ till his or her death. The chiefs of all eighteen clans form the Circle - the highest ruling body of the tribe. In the Circle, a majority is needed to pass any laws among the Tribes.

What the Imperials call mana, the Amara call saa. And unlike the Sendars, the Amara focus on the saa as a life essence rather than a life force. The distinction is very important. By identifying the saa with life, the Amara saa-men (a word that has morphed these days into ‘shaman’) are able to manipulate the dormant spirit within plants and animals, and sometimes even humans. The Sendars, on the other hand, identify the mana with animation. To them, the mana is what makes up the wind and water, the mountains and fire. And they believe that these elements make up the component of life, as opposed to life being a direct result of the saa. Because of this distinction, the Amara cannot channel the elements like the way the Sendars can, and the Sendars cannot manipulate the life essence the way the Shaman can.

While the word shaman indicates a masculine aspect, there are women as well as men shamans. They are identified as such very early in their lives, as young as 8. Once recognized as a potential shaman, they undergo rigorous training - physical and mental. The shamans tend to live away from the regular tribals, preferring to commune with nature more than with men. But they are an integral part of the Tribe. They identify presence of underground water for the tribe to sink a well. They scout around the forests to find out the best places for planting corn. But most importantly, they act as messengers between faraway clans. They can freely traverse the dreams of men, and can jump into the dream to deliver important messages. Strict rules regulate dream walking activity among the shamans.

Though the tribe has not really conquered more land or fought external enemies, they are not without conflict. Honor and pride are important things for a tribal. More than life itself, a tribal sets much store by his/her honor. So, frequent clashes occur among the clans as matters of honor. These clashes can be quite bloody and intense.

Among the clans’ fighters, there are few who are called Urudhars (children of Uru). The Urudhars are fighters handpicked by their respective clans and sent to the shamans. The shamans use the saa to imbibe the aspect of a particular animal within the fighter, making him more powerful. The Urudhars are clearly identified by a number of tattoos covering their bodies. With the recent war with the Empire, the number of Urudhars have increased.

For centuries, the tribes have lived an earthy life. They hunt when they have to, wear the basic garments necessary to protect one’s dignity and live in houses constructed from mud or bamboo. Among the tribes, polygamy (and polyandry) is quite common. A woman can have up to four husbands while a man can have up to three wives. Since none of the positions of power are hereditary, the tribes do not have to worry about succession crises or warring sons.

Maltahil and the Tribal Crisis


It is impossible to talk about the Amara without mentioning the extraordinary plant called maltahil. Maltahil is a sage that grows in the drier regions beyond the Amara forests. Once every six months, a harvesting party is sent from the tribal lands to procure the sage. The leaves are then cured for a fortnight and consecrated by the shamans. They are then distributed to the people who smoke it through clay pipes.

Maltahil has the power to cure virulent diseases like the red death and zeezee fever. It also prolongs a person’s life span. Among the tribals, it is not unheard of to live to 120. By regulating the use of the sage carefully, and by using various other contraceptive herbs like klapali, the tribe’s population stays at a sustainable level.

When the Empire first made contact with the tribe, a gift of the finest maltahil was presented by the oldest shaman to the Emperor. The gift was meant to be a peace offering, but it sowed the seeds of war. Within a couple of years, maltahil tea was all the rage in the Empire. It is a bitter concoction made by brewing the herb in hot water. And every noble household was drinking it.

Soon, regular trade was set up between the Empire and the Amara. The Amara were aware of the dangers in trading with an unequal partner. Thus, they imposed severe restrictions on the amount of maltahil traded. No more than 100 quintals would be traded in an entire year, and none of the exported maltahil shall be consecrated.

Naturally, the Empire had never dealt with such ‘arrogance’ before. The Empire has always had its reputation precede it. But now, a small tribe in a corner of the world was dictating terms. This was not acceptable.

On a warm morning nearly two years ago, Imperial forces stationed in Kuma (a treaty port on the coast bordering the Amara lands) seized the entire year’s consignment of maltahil and declared that the dry maltahil plains beyond the forest as Imperial property. Naturally, the tribes retaliated by raiding the port and burning down the ships. Thus began the current crisis.

It’s been two years and the conflict continues. The Imperial authorities are reluctant to directly declare war, for it would mean a direct commitment from the Emperor. Such a commitment can only be made when victory is assured. Considering the viciousness of the Urudhars and the craftiness of the shamans, considering the lukewarm support the Sendars have so far provided, such an assurance is not inherent in the campaign. General Akura Geerathan has been given command of the Imperial forces in the Amara lands. The General, a student of the Imperial Academy, is facing an enemy who knows the terrain better. The tribals’ insurgency tactics and raiding parties have been hugely successful, and the distance from home has had a demoralizing effect on the Imperial forces.

With every passing day, the Empire is beginning to lose more face. High ranking nobles have already started muttering about the Emperor’s fall from divine grace. The people, though they know little about what’s happening on the other side of the world, are nevertheless aware of the resistance. A flyspeck little tribe of forest dwellers was facing the might of the Empire and not blinking. Several governors have already indicated to the Emperor the possibility of widespread dissension. Two years of maltahil consumption have left the people of the Empire wanting more of the addictive beverage. And supplies are drying up.

For the Amara people, the problems they face are more nuanced. Deep in their hearts, they know that they cannot hold the Empire at bay for too long. Already, several titan ships have left the western ports of the Empire, carrying soldiers and weapons to the tribal lands. But even if the Empire were to seek truce, peace held as much threat as war. The life of the average Amaran had changed with the arrival of the Imperials. Bales of silk and caskets of perfume were the currency with which the Empire paid for the maltahil. That and other treasures from the east. The Amaran people, who had lived an almost ascetic life, were beginning to discover the softer things. The chiefs worry that the Amaran way of life (the Way of the Leaf as they call it) is at risk. How long, they ask, can the simple joys of communing with nature withstand the luxuries of the Empire? They had lived without knowledge of the outside. But how long can they keep that world out? A few young Amarans are already questioning the policy of the chiefs. Let them have the maltahil, they say. Let them have maltahil and let us have the world, they say.

Notes on mana/saa and its usage

The magic of the Sendars and the Shamans is basically the same but for the perspective on life. Because of this distinction, the Sendars channel the elements fire, water, earth and air, while the Shamans channel the spirit of living things. But the pitfalls and mechanics of this magic is the same for either group.

Mana is an infinite energy, like the light from the sun. But the human body can only handle so much. People who are born with the ability to sense mana - they are also born with an inherent strength. Some can hold more mana than others. The quantity a person can hold can be increased by constant practice. But trying to hold more than your limit can have fatal consequences. Holding too much can fry the brain to cinders, leaving behind just the husk of a body with the consciousness of a stone.

The quantity of mana a person channels can also be increased temporarily by linking with a fellow mage. It is a complex process that requires the linkers to know each other as well as possible. By linking, the mage can vastly increase the amount of mana he or she can hold.

The Sendars have taken magically binding oaths that prohibit them from killing unless in self-defence. The Shamans have no such restriction. Because of this, the Sendars of Nogundai have been debating on changes to the first oath. This is one of the reasons why the Sendars haven’t been too enthusiastic about supporting the troops.

The Urudhars

As explained earlier, the Urudhars are elite fighters among the Amara who have been imbibed with the aspect of certain animals by the shamans. A panther warrior can move as silently as the beast and hunt as effectively. A capybara warrior can burrow effectively and stay hidden better. An eagle warrior can see for leagues and can jump higher and farther. A turtle warrior can hold his breath underwater for far longer and so on.

The actual process of imbibing requires the warrior to fast for thirteen days without even the tiniest drop of water. On the fourteenth day, the warriors are given oosquai - a strong hallucinogenic beverage made from the oosan flowers. When in the throes of their astral trip, the shaman enters their visions and invokes the mother goddess Uru. The warriors see the world through the eyes of their spirit animal and assimilate its powers. After they wake, they are tattooed and blessed by the shaman.

Such powers demand a price. The price of life. Once imbibed, the life of a Urudhar is shortened by many years. Moreover, the mind of the Urudhar becomes fragile and progressively loses distinction between human and animal. In the end, the Urudhar becomes little more than a wild man with only a vague memory of humanity. Because of this inevitability, the Urudhars are mostly picked from unattached males, preferably with some physical deformity. Women are almost never selected as it would mean wasting a potential mother.

CS rules


Submit your CS with these fields: Name, Age, Gender, Physical description (no pictures please), Background, Strengths and Weaknesses. Do not worry if you want to be a magic user but are wondering what is allowed and what is banned. Let your imagination run when it comes to what magic you want to perform and I will correct you if you exceed any limitations. Just remember that whether Imperial or Tribal, your character must start in the Tribal lands or must have a strong reason to get there.
Thanks for the interest. I am working on the OOC and will put up a link soon.

Sounds interesting. Any rules on the actual roleplay?


There will be a few rules. Hopefully not too many or too complex. The magic has strict rules and usage mechanics. I am still in the process of fleshing them out, but the idea is that you should be able to cast complex spells (elemental or tribal) by building on simple spells. The Imperials can channel Water, Fire, Earth and Wind in various combinations. The Tribals can mind and spirit related spells on living things. The more complex a living thing, the more powerful the spells have to be.

For instance, the presence of fire already in the location will augment all Fire spells. Conversely, fire spells can be difficult to pull off when surrounded by water. Similarly, a Tribal shaman can command a creeper or a vine to strangle someone relatively easily. But for the shaman to control the mind of an animal like a panther, it would require a lot more mana.
For a thousand years, the Eternal Empire has expanded across the land like day breaking across the world. There were two simple reasons for the Empire's expansion and stability. First, they embraced all cultures and religions. There were no second-class citizens in the Empire. Everyone existed under the care of the Divine Emperor. Secondly, the Empire had the support of the Mages. When you have the support of men and women who can control the very elements and make them do their bidding, there is not much that can stand in your way.

Along the way, there were numerous challenges. But the Empire never once faltered. The Mages' power over the elements gave birth to great advancements in engineering. Terrible war machines were constructed that simply brooked no argument. Dissent was crushed swiftly.

Today, the Empire stretches from its birthplace near the Teryth Ocean in the east to the Sea of Storms in the west. It rules over millions of people of different ethnicities and culture. But even in its most rebellious province, there are thousands that will die for the Emperor without hesitation. Such is the power of divinity.

But for the first time in its history, the Empire faces an enemy that it cannot quite understand. When the Empire discovered lands beyond the Sea of Storms, parties were sent out to ascertain the nature of the locals. At first, the entire land seemed uninhabited by humans. Thick forests covered the land. New beasts were discovered, strange of appearance and stranger ways of killing. The Imperials encountered poisons they had no antidotes for. There seemed nothing worthwhile in these new lands.

All that changed with the first sighting of the Tribals. They were a small community deep inside the jungle. No more than ten thousand. They welcomed the newcomers guardedly. The Tribals were initially curious about the Imperials - these tall men and women from across the Dawn Sea (that's what they called the Sea of Storms). The Imperials, for their part, were shocked by the discovery. The Tribals were small in numbers, but they were by no means primitive. They had their shamans and witch mothers who worked a lot like the Mages in the Empire. But rather than elemental magic, these shamans used the very life powers of nature. They could control animals, they could coax trees to bend to their will, they could imbibe the aspect of an animal in a warrior, and worst of all, they knew how to fight.

The fighting began when the citizens of the Empire discovered the joys of smoking maltahil. Maltahil is kind of sage that grows in the drier lands beyond the Tribes' forests. Apart from curing most of the virulent diseases, the herb also prolonged life. The Tribals had no qualms about trading the leaves, but they controlled the trade on their terms. This was not acceptable to an Empire that has always had things its way. The Empire vastly and disastrously underestimated the power of the Tribals and tried to conquer them.

It was as if the very forests had decided to fight the Empire. From the annoying zeezee fly to the fearsome panther, from the deadly cobras to the carnivorous plants - every creature of the Forest turned against the imperials. The Mages, with all their understanding of the elements, had met their match in the mysterious shamans and witch mothers of the Tribe.

It is now two years since fighting began, and there seems to be no respite. There have been heroes for both sides, victories and defeats for either side. Morale is dipping within the Empire, the people unable to comprehend how a mighty Empire can be held at bay by a flyspeck little tribe. Will this finally lead to a more widespread loss of faith in the Emperor?

Among the Tribals, there are many who feel that they can't hold out for long. The outside world was trying to get in, with its luxury products and temptations. For centuries they had led a simple, sustainable life in harmony with nature. All that was being threatened by the Empire. Threatened not just by war, but also by peace. Can the Way of the Leaf survive against the love for silk and perfumes?

The RP will be largely set in the Tribal lands. The Empire has secured a beachhead and has also established a couple of command posts in the forest interior. But the Tribes are far further inland and have unrestricted movement through the forest thanks to their superior knowledge. You can choose to play a tribal or an imperial, shaman or mage. The OOC will contain details about the magic and technology.

This RP will be largely politicking with action thrown here and there. Let me know if this sounds interesting and I will start on the OOC.

The Citadel (waterprint) by Orham Geiger, commissioned by Mayor Gavius II

You stink, you scream, you smell all sorts of crazy.
You fight, you bite, but you are still my lady.


from the song City of Screams by Dead Babies


Avalon. City of Dreams. The last and first resort.

The year is- Well, I am not entirely sure what year it is. If you go by the original Gavian calendar, this is the year 1780 counting from the raising of Mayor Gavius. But we are supposed to be using the new Cyclic calendar, which puts today in the 23rd year of the First Cycle. According to the Foundation calendar, this would be year 2056 FE - more than two thousand years since the founding of the City. Some cultists will tell you that it is actually the year 3500, counting from the supposed destruction of Earth. You can see how the whole year thing can become quickly complicated.

But we are here today. That is more than most can say in this dustball of a planet. To step out of the City is to die. Any child will tell you that the air Outside is so saturated with microscopic dust that a single breath can rip out your lungs. Even if you did manage to survive with the help of breathers and filters, even if you did strap water reclaimers on, you will certainly continue your inevitable march towards death Outside thanks to the searing heat, the freezing cold, the sulphur blasts, the sand dogs, the starvation, the sandstorms and any number of other nasty things.

The City is my home. Me and a few million others. This city, with its towering apartments and squalid slums, with its perfumed quarters and stinking garbage piles, with its powerful technology and powerless people, with its wide boulevards and narrow minds - this is the only home we've known. We'll take it, warts and all. The alternative is a quick and painful life.

The official name of the city is Avalon - a name dredged up from some forgotten legend. But we all call it the City. A band of brave survivors in our wandering years laid the first foundation more than 2000 years ago. They were simply marking a relatively safe spot for them to die as the world churned around them. But they soon realized that their tomb could also be their salvation - for it housed the last of the great nuclear reactors of lore. The reactor was built in a massive complex that stood like a mountain, and around this massive source of power, civilization began to take root.

We are children of the Core. With the power from the Core, we terraformed our immediate neighborhood. The Core enabled us to develop stack farming techniques. With our microfarms, we are now able to support a larger population. The Core is the only source of power in the City. He who controls the Core controls the City. So it is a good thing we have the priests.

The priests were once called physicists. They were the elite few who knew the inner workings of the Core. And they knew better than to let that kind of knowledge become public. They closely guarded their secret, teaching only a very few, passing it down from priest to priest. What was once science became religion. What was once technology became magic.

The priests quickly set up a working democracy in the City. Councilmen and even the Mayor were elected by the people. The Avalon Constitution was laid down during this time - a set of rules and guidelines governing all systems in the City. We evolved out of a need to persist. Survival was, and still is, the Prime Directive.

But governments are only as good as the people that make them. We exist for the State, and the State exists for us. But there comes a time when the State takes precedence over the people. Mayor Salvor Gavius, later Gavius I, was one of the many who saw democracy as a legacy system that had outlived its usefulness. It may have made sense in a world of plenty, but ours is a world of scarcity. The State had to take absolute control of the resources. The State had to assume total control of the populace if it desired to thrive. So the State did. Mayor Gavius I ushered in a new era when he added the Genetic Directive to the Constitution. Genes, and not popular opinion, will determine who rules and who serves. Advances in the field of biologics enabled such a change. Ballot boxes were replaced by sequencers that predicted life choices based on protein strands. Every individual was assessed for his or her value to the State. Every thread of life was analyzed for 'compatibility with the system'.

This was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, we had a far more efficient society - one where the individual cogs knew exactly what was expected. On the other, we had an entrenched governing elite - one that would practice a careful process of breeding to ensure its supremacy. But the real winner of this system was undoubtedly the priests - the ones that came up with the algorithm in the first place. None but the priests knew the intricacies of the sequencer. People accepted it as Divine Word. The sequencer says I am worthless to the City, so I must be. That's the way we think.

That's the way we have thought for nearly two thousand years now. We owe a lot to the priests - longer lifespan, healthier life, food, water, order, peace. This City was built by the priests and no matter what the current Mayor Gavius II thinks, it is still controlled by the priests. If the priests want to sequence individuals, the individuals will be sequenced.

That's not to say the priests are without opposition. Even in a perfect police state, there are rebel elements. The White Army is perhaps the strongest of such elements. Formed originally by supporters of the last democratically elected Mayor Duncan White, the organization has since then become a rallying point for opposition against the government, the priests, the police, the sequencing and any other discontent. Naturally, members of the organization are hunted down mercilessly whenever they are found. The White Army soldiers are equally ruthless in their campaigns of terror against the government. The infamous bombing of the Council Hall comes readily to mind, when the White Army managed to catch the entire police high command under one roof during the Annual Passing Out Party. Even after a decade, the police force is still recovering from that attack.

But even the possibility of a democratic government or a transparent system is only a pale dream. Next to the huge chasm of isolation, these are childish hopes. Everything outside the City, we call it Outside, like it's another realm from another planet. It very well could be. The death penalty in the City is a simple process of stripping you naked and sending you Outside. The Action Entertainment Network made its first million accepting bets for the number of steps an inmate would take Outside before dying. The current record is 73.

Not just inmates. The Outside is also the place for Undesirables - people who have been judged useless by the sequencer. The only consideration shown to them is that they are given a water reclaimer and a breather and they are not stripped naked. That's not to say we are ignorant of what is out there. We built powerful sand vehicles to explore Outside. We have explored as far as either pole. We know how the planet looks though we may not have satellites. We know that we are the last enclave of humans. There is NOTHING out there but dust and death.

So, I guess a welcome is in order. Welcome to the City. May you find your worth in your sequence. May you find what you seek. But then again, may you first know what you seek.

Notes on Technology

In the City, all the technological advancements come from the Temple. The Temple of the Core is the headquarters of the priests and is home to the Patriarch (or Matriarch, as the case may be) of the Temple - head of the order of the priests. The Temple predates the City by at least a thousand years and very little has been added by successive generations. Apart from housing the last of the great nuclear reactors, the Temple also boasts an extensive library, numerous laboratories, testing stations, assembly lines and vast banks of sequencers.

Nearly everything in the City needs power. And every last joule of power comes from the Core. It must be a matter of technological marvel that a few tons of mythical matter can produce power for three millenia without a break - but to the people of the City, it is just another religious miracle that they constantly expect from the priests.

Despite all their power and authority, the priests are a secretive lot. They do not interfere with the workings of the civil government - at least not overtly. They do not concern themselves with crime and punishment. They spend their days studying and researching, testing and developing. They are also constantly fine-tuning the sequencer algorithm, determined to create the perfect society.

Notes on Government

The highest political power in the City is the Mayor. Since the time of Gavius I, the position has become hereditary thanks to the genetic breeding program carried out by the royals. The current mayor is Mayor Gavius II, simultaneously the grandson and great-grandson of Gavius I. His father-brother Calinan II was the longest serving mayor in the City's history, dying at the ripe age of 120.

Technically, the Mayor is answerable to the Council. The councillors are all products of such breeding programs too, and constantly try to outbreed the reigning Mayor. The council divides the civic responsibilities among the council members. But ultimately, all of them are answerable to the Mayor. Only in the time of a civil emergency, however, does the Mayor exert absolute control.
Love this idea. I am in. I assume you don't need me to put up a CS, so I will wait for the IC to introduce my first doomed character. :)
The story is set in the distant future, past a bleak apocalyptic event that no one quite remembers. Some say it was nuclear war. Some say it was an asteroid. But the facts of the destruction of Earth are buried in the dim reaches of time. Now, there is only Avalon.

Avalon is the only city in the entire world - home to the last, surviving nuclear reactor. Coal and oil are things of legend, spoken about as if they were mythical substances. Surviving beyond the borders of Avalon is a lesson in futility. But what separates the City from the barbaric wastelands of the world is its nuclear reactor - a thing of magic.

Not many understand atomics - considering it too abstract and esoteric. Thus, only a select few are allowed inside the Temple of the Core. These high priests are the only ones capable of understanding the reactor and its workings. They help the Core provide power to the people of the City, and they are revered as deities.

The City is ruled by the Mayor. A deceivingly simple title for a powerful position. The title of Mayor is hereditary, and it brings with it all the trappings of a royal life - from indulgent harems to plotting senators. The Mayor constantly struggles to keep the balance of power in his/her favor and has to contend with the Patriarch of the Temple at all times. The Patriarch is a powerful symbol to the people of the City - the man who personally attends to the Core. The Mayor cannot be raised without the consent and presence of the Patriarch.

The City faces numerous troubles. Power is a luxury, handed out to a select few. While traditional computing and engineering technology has deteriorated, huge advances have been made in biologics. Faced with the challenge of meagre sources of food, the priests of the temple have developed microfarms to feed the populace. Every child, at the age of 11, goes through a genetic test. Based on the results of the test, the government assigns a value to the child's life. The higher the value, the more the City benefits from that individuals. 'Undesirable' valued children are either euthanized or cast out. The really high value children are either adopted by senator families or sent to study with the priests.

Life exists outside the City too. But little is known of it. Some of the lookouts have observed bands of men and women trekking through the harsh, bleak wilderness. They call them the Outsiders. What these bands call themselves, no one knows. Nor of how they survive.

The story begins when the City is at a crucial point in its history. It is about to discover that the Core is not inexhaustible - that the End Times may be near. It is also about to discover how vastly it has underestimated these 'outsiders', and how grossly they miscalculated the 'value' of the ones they cast out. Even the hallowed senators and the Mayor, living in their opulent apartments towering over the rest - even they are going to feel the shockwaves of change that will sweep through their lives.

[Naturally, I have drawn my inspiration from great works like Dune and Foundation. If enough people are interested, I can flesh out the setting a lot more, especially everyday life of the City, the nature of the Outsiders, and the technology and 'magic' at use.]
Hahahahaha SononJET

You made my day. And also gave me a nice conversation piece at the next party!!
Tamara Sendai in Elband - Morning

Tamara had supped with the high and mighty. In her many assignments, she had had to talk down to queens and kings without showing her fear. The years negotiating with the rulers of the land had given her an ability to mask her true feelings when she spoke.

All those years of experience failed her that moment as she stood face to face with the daughter-heir of Menaria.

Even before she laid her eyes on the girl, even before she heard her footsteps behind her, she had sensed her approaching. Sendai can sense when others of the cloth are nearby. The Spark can always be sensed by one who has it. Tamara knew the girl wouldn't be able to sense it clearly. The awareness came with practice. It came with using the Spark regularly. But Tamara could feel her power. It pulsed like a star in that garden. The Mother was not flapping with her tongue when she talked about the girl's potential. Tamara felt her tongue go dry. When this one was trained properly, she would eclipse them all.

Tamara inclined her head and bent her knees slightly in a less-than-formal curtsy. Once the girl was in the White Island, she would have to defer to Tamara. But here, she was still the princess and Tamara was just another diplomat. Even so, Sendai aren't ordinary people.

"Grace favor you, princess," she said, finally looking at her face. It was like looking at Queen Tarmalene through a frosted glass made of time. That same pointed nose, that same golden hair that caught the light and glimmered, that same haughty stare that demanded obedience. She was still a child though, and she was trying to mimic her mother, Tamara saw. This one would grow into a great ruler.

"I am Tamara Roihan of the Vyanandir," she said, not wanting to hide either her allegiance in the White Island, or her Balenian name. vyanandir, the House of the Wind, was her chosen house in the White Island. And she secretly hoped the girl would choose her House. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, princess. The Mother has been talking about you and we are all looking forward to seeing you in the Island."

Tamara smiled in a sisterly way. She did not want to be too formal here, and she had a feeling the girl would respond better without the rituals and trappings of royalty. The young always did.

"Apart from getting a chance to see you, I was also hoping I could talk to you. I am sure you have a lot of questions about the White Island, and I confess I have a few of my own about you."
Racial features:

Menarians and Balenians: Tall. Fair skinned. (Very European)
Turmens: Average height. Brown/bronze skinned. Dark haired. (Very Mediterranean)
Gurgans: Large, big-boned. Stocky. (Very Russian)
Gors: Very tall. Long legged. Deeply tanned to dark skinned. Leathery skin. (Very Native Central American)

They are all humans.

AmazinglyVivid - I will have a post for you in a few hours.

Catharyn - That's a pity to hear. I hope we get to RP again another time.

So that leaves poor SonofJET stranded. Don't worry. I will come to the rescue once I finish with the princess.
Great posts, Halvtand and Vivid. And Vivid, don't apologize about late posts. As long as we can expect one, I won't insist on immediate responses.

Now, to get in touch with Catharyn, our rebel. She hasn't been seen around these parts lately.
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