Legion02

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

Feels like it's time for some real fire...

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

So I still need to write a post for my Worshippers and the follow up on the dragons. Sadly the upcoming week will be crushing me and I'll barely have to the time to finish my post. So this is me letting you all know I probably won't be able to post between now and next week Sunday but I will be able to read (hopefully).

The Fading Light of V'landriel (Closed for Soft Reboot)

Republic of Aurelia

Nation name: Republic of Aurelia
Type of Government: Military Republic
Heads of Government:

President-General Solomon Luther
Admiral of the Fleet Charon Sunderson
Spymaster Tharlon of Turtle Latoa
Minister of Research Sarah Thule
Minister of Civil Affairs Jean Jacob

Economy: Recent industrialization efforts are paying off as more and more factories pop up along the coastline. While coal and iron can be imported from deeper within the country, Aurelia has a need for more so will mostly import both coal and iron. Further up north there are also large farms producing wheat, vegetables, and cattle. Enough food is produced for export. Finally, in a bid to improve it’s standing on the international magical field, Aurelia both imports foreign magical objects and resources and exports magical trinkets.
Primary species: Humans
Population: 45 million
Culture: With now a peasantry freed from the oppression from nobility and royalty and took up responsibility for themselves. The obligatory two-year draft has instilled a deep sense of respect for the military forces. While many state-sponsored artworks are now instilling a pride for being Aurelian in the hearts of the people.
Religious and Other Beliefs: For long Aurelia had believed in a one true God and his angels. The Church of Ionius held influence everywhere. Now, however, it has fallen out of favor. Young people reject its teachings. Religiousness, in general, is in decline across the country as miracles are explained through precise magical theory and technology.
Locations: Bordeaux red
Climate: Temperate
Military: At this moment there are three official branches. The Aurelian Navy, the Aurelian Army and the significantly smaller Aurelian Arcana branch.

The Aurelian Navy is but a shadow of what it once was. With only 15 cruisers and not allowed to build many more, it prefers to keep its larger ships near the coast. The fifteen cruisers are quite well maintained however. Most of the Aurelian Navy currently depends on lightweight, wooden destroyer ships to cut through the waves beyond its own coast. These destroyers are build to be fast and heavy hitting but lack any defenses. The marine corps in the navy is nearly non-existent. As for now, despite the constant insistence of Admiral Sunderson, the President-General has not given much attention to the navy.

The army on the other hand, has been given quite a bit of love. While it is heavily observed by dark elves, it has grown in the recent decade from an incompetent militia to an actual standing military. During General Solomon’s military reformation he made sure to organize constant marksmanship competitions and drills. Ensuring that his troops wouldn’t loose their edge. For now the army could be seen on par with most other armies on the Old World continent. Capable of defending their own home yet too small to invade anything. Aurelia lacks any and all equestrian forces. As horse riding was, until recently, a luxury only for the nobility. With their demise, the cavalry vanished as well. Instead of rebuilding it, General Solomon began to expand the artillery divisions.

The third branch is unarguably the one gaining the most attention. With the establishment of the Free Academy for Magic, mages could be pulled from the general population. Furthermore, a great many advantages were offered the join the military. The pay off was quickly seen with the establishment of General Solomon’s Brimstone Mages. Plasma mages with a high affinity for fire and combustion. While it would seem that the whole country has a greater affinity for plasma magic, the other forms were not neglected. With the establishment of the Magitects, newly improved fortresses could be built faster and cheaper. Sadly not everything is going as fantastic. Those with an affinity for liquid and gas are extremely rare. Too rare to form effective divisions for them. These days the Arcana branch also offers massive grants for both in-house and independent (but educated) mages for military research. In essence, it would be insane for any mage living within Aurelia to not have some affiliation with the Arcana branch.

The fourth branch is an unofficial and highly secretive branch. It exists of hired pirates, mercenaries, thieves, smugglers mixed with extremely loyal army officers. The fourth branch is highly active overseas in other countries. Establishing themselves in the underworlds of foreign cities. Its influences vary from nation to nation. Some nations, often those with problems towards humanity or trade, are totally sealed off. Others, especially nations that trade a lot, will be infiltrated to some degree. The fourth branch does its best to stay out of any official business within the host country. Generally, their agents are found in shady taverns or running gambling dens. If they reside within loyalist nations, they will attempt to disrupt any official and military business through terrorism and even guerrilla warfare. If they reside within separatist nations, said host nation can request support from the underworld. Within neutral nations, the fourth branch generally remains neutral as well.
History: The kingdom of Aurelia once considered itself the pinnacle of civilization. Valiant knights stood against dragons, golden paladins vanquished evil witches and priests blessed the fields of the peasantry. The nobility, royalty, and clergy held themselves to the noble duties and protected the innocent. While the peasantry’s duty was to provide for the three former castes in life so they may be protected. Aurelian historians look back and call those the simpler days. When everything just worked. Where your word was your bond and the divine watched over you.

But it couldn’t last. A combination of greedy kings and insubordinate nobility had plunged Aurelia in several civil wars for the passed 300 years. Then, when king Bran the Unifier brought the once-shattered land back together, people had hope once more. Hope that kings like Bran would lead them to wealth. King William, son of Bran, promised exactly that. Wealth and greatness through conquest and heavy expansion. He pushed through reforms and triggered an industrial revolution. King William, according to many, was a fair man with a good heart. He made sure his subjects would have enough. Hopefully forever. This delayed the plans of expansion again and again. The nobility grew restless. Young knights felt a greed for glory. The Clergy was getting anxious as well. Especially when William was pushing for education.

His downfall was, maybe luckily, not the clergy or the nobility. It was an external threat. Right when he was going to order his troops to march into his neighbors, Yllendyr attacked. Pushing through Aurelia they met strong resistance. A well-prepared army and a population utterly unwilling to bend the knee. Thousands were slaughtered. It took half a decade for the Yllendyr forces to reach the capital. Once at its gates, king William was still completely unwilling to surrender. Rather suddenly though, he fell ill. A week in the siege of Aura, he died. The clergy were quick to crown his very young child as the new king and install one of their own as bishop. Mere hours after the coronation Aurelia surrendered. The only conditions were for the clergy, royalty and nobility to maintain their status and ability to govern Aurelia under the rulership of Yllendyr. In essence, they sold out the land to protect themselves.

The middle class suffered greatly under this surrender. They were the ones raised in levies, while the nobility could pretend to fight with bandits as leaders of the militia. They were the ones being double taxed now, both by Yllendyr and their own state. A deep sense of resentment and bitterness boiled over many times. Each rebellion was quickly squashed by the nobility though. Who didn’t want to attract even more ire from their overlords.

Sadly the economy began to falter as of recently. The heavy taxations and general hopelessness of the population is crushing efficiency. This lasted until Solomon Luther entered the realm of politics. As an accomplished soldier from the Yllendyr levies, he was quick to raise his own militia. Which appeared easily more capable than the nobility’s own militias. He was also elected as mayor of his hometown and managed to make it one of the few places in Aurelia where people appear to actually like living. King William II raised Solomon up and made him a royal advisor. As the years carried on, Solomon worked hard and long on rebuilding Aurelia. Even though the nobility tried to block him at every step, it began to get hard to argue with results.

However, Solomon realized that he was but remedying the symptoms of a much larger issue. Yllendyr occupation and the willingness of the royalty, nobility and clergy to obey their overlords. Solomon knew that someday he’d have his chance. So he prepared. Shades and shadows moved into other countries. Forming a network of illegal smuggling and other underworldly activities. At home, he made lists of dark elves, people trading with dark elves, locations of mansions. Everything. Maybe someday his children’s children could take off the chains. Imagine his surprise when one of his shadows told him that the Emperor is dead and the Empire was in a civil war.

The Fading Light of V'landriel (Closed for Soft Reboot)

<Snipped quote by Legion02>

Sure thing. And actually, what I was looking for was one that would be the one remaining independent nation and have fought an on-off guerrilla war with the dark elves for the past 60 years since the Subjugation. If that works for you, then absolutely.

@Mihndar

I will admit, that was not the idea I had mind. I also want to confess that I've never written such a thing so far. However, I certainly want to give it a shot! Feels like a good challenge. Are there any more specifics that need to be discussed?

The Fading Light of V'landriel (Closed for Soft Reboot)

@Mihndar - I read you still want/need a human subservient nation to your dark elves. I've had a human nation in mind in fact. Is the important role still open?

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

The fight was turning out dire for both sides. On the ground, fighting against fell winds both the ice and fire dragons perished amid hail and cinder. The flames were fed and smothered again and again. Smoke drifted up into the maelstrom. Turning it thick and even darker than the storm had made it. Thesan couldn’t see his own sister anymore. He only saw her unique breath ripping through the enemy. Joined with flashes of red and frozen blue. If he had time, he would’ve worried. But he couldn’t, for a very angry god was catching up with him.

Lira, below, was dispatching her foes one by one. Her beam ripped through scales and flesh. Another ice dragon fell before her. With pride, she stood on its skull. Cracking beneath her weight. The Verzakian dragons she just saved made a bow worthy of a queen and proceeded to help their own kin. Lira couldn’t see it but the fighting on the ground was being won and even though she couldn’t see it, she did know it. It was getting harder and harder to find more ice dragons to kill. High above her, she saw the flashes that could’ve only come from the false god and her own brother doing battle. She did have the time to worry.

Thesan could only trust that his sister would do what she must. He knew he would. The hydra god was getting too close. It would catch him sooner rather than later. If it had to happen, then he preferred it to be on his own terms. So when Drakairos reached out for his wing, Thesan rolled over and let the claws dig into his chest. His scales, the strongest dragon scales in existence, shattered instantly. Letting the god’s claws dig in deep into him. Blood immediately poured out of the wound and caught fire as it touched the air. Thesan’s body reacted to the pain and hurt. He coughed up blood and spat it towards Drakairos’ frozen head. Still, for a dragon in the literal clutches of a god he looked rather happy to be there. “I got you now.” He said with a sly grin before let out a deafening roar that echoed off the pass’ mountainous walls.

Dragons from the ground folded open their wings and were quickly dragged into the storm. Those in the air began to breathe their flames in random directions. Soon the whole storm turned into a tempest of fire. The clouds were glowing orange and a fierce fire tornado raged down upon the ground. The fire was so all-consuming you could hear the air being sucked in as the oxygen was consumed by the flame. From below even Lira joined her flame with it. In the middle of the firestorm was Drakairos clutching a bleeding, broken but satisfied Thesan. He looked enamored at the creation of his kin raging all around him now. A hundred flames joined together. Shame he couldn’t join but a sacrifice was needed to keep the Hydra God distracted.

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

@Lmpkio - I was going to post today. However it would seem that the Fear Spire event is ending soon as well. I'd prefer to wrap all my posts up in one and the Worshippers Arc post would come in after the Fear Spire. So I'd ask for at least a day or two more if that's okay with you?

Battle for Titania

@Wildman13 - I've got a question in terms of magic. The fantasy nation seems to be allowed a very powerful wonder, however what's the status on tamed mythical creatures and spellcasters?

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

Okay people! We're reaching the end of Act I of the Worshippers Arc right now. To keep it short: there is a united tribal army. If anyone wants their god to be worshipped amongst the warriors, feel free to say so! I'll do my best to incorporate that in the following posts! I hope everyone's liking their arc so far!

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

Every god had a place in the world. The three-headed god of weather had his clouds and the goddess of magic walked amongst those she blessed. Valen’s place was among and between the humans. Traveling from tribe to tribe as he taught them one art or another. Now again he led his immortal donkey through the thick, ancients forests to where he knew there were more humans. After many lonely nights he finally got close as he saw the smoke rise up from a campfire. “We’re nearly there, friend.” He muttered to his donkey. Who of course did not understand him. The obedient packing animal just stopped and began to eat off the forest floor for a moment. Before it was pulled back into walking pace by Valen. He’d been traveling for several weeks now. Strangely enough the number of human tribes around seemed to have shrunk significantly.

Slowly, peacefully, he walked up towards the camp. Still, two men grabbed their spears and approached him. “Halt! Who are you!” they commanded. Valen stopped. He was no stranger of the weariness of men. Strangers brought uncertainty and Valen was more than just a stranger. He slowly raised his hands, revealing the tools he carried inside his heavy cloak. From beyond a tent an elder appeared, who hit both of the warriors against the leg with her cane. “Idiots. You think those spears will do much against a god.” She then turned to Valen. “You haven’t aged a day, my lord.”

A small smile escaped from Valen’s lip. “I’d say the same but I’d be lying.” He looked around for a moment. The number of people was suspiciously low. As if it hadn’t grown since his last visit. “Where is your husband?” he asked the elder.

Her face instantly soured. “Taken by fire madmen. They call themselves worshippers of Ragnagedon, the god of fire.” She explained. “They came just a few days ago. We managed to escape but.. well a price a was paid.” Valen felt the mood sour in the village as the tale was told. The sense of loss ran deep.

He started working that evening after he had filled his stomach. Within the small tent he set up he began to draw his plans. Paper and papyrus were filled with various ideas. Most were thrown out. When curious children picked them up and unfurled them they could only see confusing lines and weird scribblings. Eventually, the god burst forth from his tent with his toolbelt. It was time to build. A bit further outside the village stood several large stones. As the rays of dawn graced the rocks, Valen began to measure them with his fingers and their shadows. Curious villagers slowly approached him. First, they just watched him as he was knocking on stone and seemingly began a conversation with one. It took several hours and the sun stood high in the skies when he finally exclaimed: “Yes! This one!”

The villagers came closer. “What are you doing?” They asked, just as he took his hammer and chisel. The question stopped him in his tracks.

“You’ve told me about your loss.” He began his explanation as he sat down. Putting away his tools again. “I’m sorry, I won’t bring your loved ones back. Toying with life and death like that is a dangerous endeavor. No matter what powers you’re given, be it magic or divinity, those who passed should remain at rest. That being said, their memories can be eternal. As can their stories but I am afraid human memory can be a feeble thing. Forgetting is a human thing, one you shouldn’t be faulted for but that does not mean you’re not allowed to combat it. What I want to do is make an aid for your memory. Something that will help you remember whenever you see it. So even when time slips and memories fade, they can be summoned once more. Here, around this rock.”

“How would a rock help us remember? Why not that rock?” another villager asked as he pointed towards another rock.

Valen smiled. Humans, such inquisitive creatures. “Because it is my intention to shape this rock into something unique.”

The villagers talked amongst themselves for several minutes as Valen patiently waited, playing around with his divine tools between his fingers. Eventually, the strongest men of the village stepped forward. “We want to help you to shape this rock.”

Valen jumped up from his seat. “Excellent. Now I would like this stone moved towards your village. It wouldn’t be seen very often up here in the hills, right? Alas, I do think this whole stone is a bit too much for you. Fret not, I have a plan.” What followed was an endeavor carried out by the entire village. Wood was chopped and the trees were used to roll the massive stone down the hill’s slope. Ropes kept it from rolling too fast. The arduous tasks meant that people were tiring quickly. A steady supply of water and food kept them on their legs. It took four days to move the stone to the village but it eventually reached it. There a pit was waiting for it already. Slowly but surely the stone pillar was raised under the supervising eye of Valen. When the stone was raised, he and a handful of villagers went to work. People began to carve figures on all sides of the stone. Figures of people holding berries, javelins, arrows and other objects. Each figure was unique. A person that had died at the madmen’s fires. As figures were carved, already fading memories sprang back to life. A few tears dropped again. Valen continued his watch over the stone. It felt nearly impossible to not be touched by their sadness but Valen always considered that a curse for any divine being. Alas, if it was a curse it was his to bear. Often times he wished he could do more for the human tribes he visited. In the past, they were happy with pots and stitched garbs. Now death was stalking the humans more often. Had his siblings given up on shepherding them? Or were their own, selfish desires rising above their duties? Valen did not know but he certainly didn’t like it.

Sunken deep in his own thoughts about the other gods, Valen never saw the elder approach behind him. “The villagers are…grateful for your gift, lord Valen. They’ve sworn they’ll add a figure for each person that died. So they may never be forgotten.”

Vallen nodded. It was what he had hoped for. That the humans would continue practice what he had taught them. “I hope only old figures will have to be carved from now on.”

---

Lira was not blind. The beams would hurt her far more than she could hurt the hydra god. With a tiny movement of her wings, she changed direction. Narrowly missing all three beams by barely an inch. Fear coursed through her heart for a second. Such power. She knew they were a god but clearly she had underestimated divine power. Still, she couldn’t just run away now. When she came down upon the earth a heavy quake traveled through the ground. Within the howling winds, a roaring explosion erupted. Vaporizing all the snow around. Eventually, the smoke cleared and within a still glowing crater stood Lira over the broken body of an ice dragon. Holding its head up. “Weak.” She muttered with disgust as she threw the head back down again.

High above them the swirling winds carried ice and snow. The darkening clouds of the storm blocked any and all sunlight. By now the battlefield was illuminated by fire and lightning. Flashes traveled through the mountainous pass. Newly arriving dragons were soon caught in the winds. Unable to fight such hurricane winds they were quickly thrown against the ground or were swallowed by the maelstrom. Flying aimlessly through the blinding darkness. This did not mean they were utterly passive about it. Angry at the wind that held them the verzakian dragons breathe their fire into it. High over the ground fire joined fire before it was swiftly extinguished again by the gale winds. Down below the dragons had a stronger chance to survive. Some had the misfortune to be caught by several ice dragon. There was little they could do against the purification. However, the winds seemed indiscriminate. Ice dragons too were swallowed up and thrown around. Some found themselves high up in the air. Where the fought a chaotic battle with the other dragons even though neither side had actual control. Down on the ground the lightning and ice mixed with the burning shrubs.

Lira and Thesan crawled up the side of the mountain. Careful as to not open their wings and be swallowed by the storm. From a higher ground, they observed the battlefield. It was pandemonium. Great pillars of smoke and fire we ripped apart by the air. Where the whirlwind created a maelstrom of fire and ice. Rain fell down, joined with ice, fire and the occasional bolt of lightning. All the while the gale winds were failing to suffocate the angry, desperate or triumphant roars and screams of both sides. In the middle of it was Drakairos like a furious orchestra conductor. “We need to do something.” Lira noted as she saw the Verzakian dragons get killed or be victorious. “Agreed. You help our kin! I will take the hydra god!” Lira nodded as she quickly descended the mountain again. With fiery breathe she grabbed once ice dragon that thought he had won and was purifying a weakened Verzakian dragon. Before he knew it though, the ice dragon’s jaw was forced to stay open as he looked down Lira’s great maw. A great beam of fire began to melt his innards. Within a moment his corpse collapsed.

Thesan opened his wings and was quickly swallowed by the storm. Hoping the chaos of the winds would keep him unpredictable, he made no attempt to control his hurling movement. Instead, he shot his beam of fire at Drakairos every time he could. “I’m here, false god!” he screamed in between beams. “I’m here you three-headed beast! You wouldn’t dare face me in a fair fight, would you!? No matter! My kin are coming for their king! Soon this whole storm will be made of fire!” he taunted.

---

The soggy mud had preserved the tracks perfectly. The fire raiders were kneeling next to the trail that looked more like a river of footsteps. Now further up north, they felt a chilling wind here. Every other day a cold rain tried to cool them down. Every time they had to burn wet logs in an attempt to stay warm. Most of the times they were successful but those times became less frequent now. Fir had long dreaded this. The fading of their flame. He had looked into the eyes of his people and he began to saw the hollowness behind them. These men and women held no purpose if their fire would die out. What would follow after that would be the end of everything he worked for.

Alas, if there was a god of fate it would appear that it was on his side now. The trails marched down south. “They passed us.” Esif noted as she prodded a trail. Comparing it to her own footsteps. “They’re loaded heavier than we are. They also far outnumber us.” From all people that could’ve lost their flames, Fir’s youngest Hand was not one of them. “I propose an ambush.” She followed up. In the last year she had grown into quite a scout. Knowing the terrain and reading the land. Fir trusted her judgment.

“Indeed. Esif, take your men and find me this…band. I want to know where they are going within three nights.” Fir commanded with his usual tone of severity.

Esif carried out his command. Small groups of her people, a handful to each group, began to canvas the area. They stalked the thick, suffocating forests and mist-filled fields in a search to find their prey. Eventually, she found something. A group of men, about an equal amount as her own group, running from a bear. “You’d think they could take that thing.” Jass commented with a smug smile as they observed the spectacle from a distance. “They can.” Esif said with a cold voice. The men were packed better than she and her people. With bronze spears and even swords. Strange black and red scales were sown against their fur clothing. With three strong men they could take the bear on probably. So why didn’t they? It didn’t matter as the bear stopped in its tracks, sniffed in the air and turned around. “Oh crap.” Esif said as she immediately realized what was happening. “Run!”

The bear began to chase the scouts now. As they wore heavy furs, the bear was quickly catching up with them and when it would, the bear would have no trouble tearing apart their backs. Some scouts huddled together with spears outstretched. To no avail. The bear plowed straight through them. Tearing the face off of one man. Esif, in the meantime, ran towards the enemy. Who was still running away. Behind her she heard the bear mauling her people. “Lord Ragnagedon. Grand my vengeance. Grant me power. Grant my vengeance. Grant me power. Grant me fire!” She repeated like a wicked prayer. Begging for the endless burning and death of others. Soon she was upon one enemy scout who barely understood what was happening as Esif jumped up from a fallen log and threw him against the ground with all her weight. A second later one of her daggers was in his neck. Blood spat forth and pooled on to the already damp ground. Esif let her knife go. She grabbed the bronze spear laying next to him and turned around with it. Right in time for the jumping bear. The lumbering beast fell on the spear. Howling in pain as its own weight pushed it deeper. “Die! Die! Die!” Esif screamed as bear-blood poured from the open wound onto her. With her other hand she grabbed the knife from behind her and began to stab the bear even more. Eventually ripping its belly. Guts fell out of the wound. With a painful howl he finally dropped dead. Right on top of Esif. Who nearly got crushed.

But she wasn’t about to just give up. With her knife and all her strength, she managed to push the bear off of her. The limp beast fell down next to her as she finally hung limp over a corpse. Exhausted from the endeavor.

“Get up.” A bronze tip gleamed in the sunlight over her. Several others also pointed their spears at her. “Again, get up.” One of the warriors commanded. “You’ve committed heresy. Come with us.” Esif just let dropped her head back. Just her luck.

---

Ragnagedon made it in Verzak just in time. He felt himself grow weaker with every wingbeat. The creation of the Arch-Dragons had certainly sapped him. As did his fight with Dirka. But it would seem he had less strength left than anticipated. Supremely annoyed at that notion, he managed to land in his cave. As his feet touched the hot rock beneath him, he collapsed in blue flames. Revealing his true form. Weak and even limping, he walked up towards the bath of lava he had walked out of previously. Exhausted he walked into it and closed his eyes. Willing to face his hated dreams again as he recovered his powers.

Outside Verzak changed with its master. The great spires could no longer block the skies. Nor did the earth constantly quake anymore. Still, the great rivers of molten rock flowed and the eternal flames burned. Even though the spires could no longer block out the sun, great pillars of smoke still rose up high into the air. To be seen from miles away. Verzak had become as peaceful as it could ever be.